


Kaleidoscopic Grangers

by AdmiralPegasus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic Hermione Granger, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Blind Character, Blind Harry Potter, Character Reinterpretation, F/F, FREQUENTLY UPDATED, Found Family, Found Family Over Blood Family, Gen, Ginniadne, Harry Potter was Adopted by Other(s), Hermione Granger & Harry Potter are Siblings, Lesbian Ariadne, MTF Harry Potter, Non Binary Luna Lovegood, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Girl Harry Potter, Trans Harry Potter, Werewolf Ron Weasley, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 160
Words: 457,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdmiralPegasus/pseuds/AdmiralPegasus
Summary: If blindness wasn’t enough for Ariadne Granger to deal with upon attending Hogwarts, being the transgender Girl Who Lived didn’t help matters.Blind trans girl Harry Potter fic to spite JK Rowling’s TERF ass. Starts before Ariadne has even figured out she’s a girl and before she is rescued from the Dursleys.Since this fic is gonna be quite long, I’m adding a key here. Note, some things might lack context if you skip.Chapters 1-6: Pre-Philosopher’s Stone.Chapters 7-33: Philosopher’s Stone. Minimal plot divergence.Chapters 34-75: Chamber of Secrets. Moderate plot divergence.Chapters 76-109: Prisoner of Azkaban. Major plot divergence.Chapters 110-148: Goblet of Fire. Major plot divergence.Chapters 149-Current: Order of the Phoenix.
Relationships: Ariadne Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 1408
Kudos: 1234





	1. Harmony at the Park

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic takes some significant inspiration from Pharetra’s Raven’s Colours, little idea stealing. Given that fic got officially abandoned, I hope Pharetra doesn’t mind - but if she does, she’s welcome to let me know and I’ll take this down. Some similar stuff happening so far, but we’ll divert from that pretty heckin’ quick after a few chapters. If I’m making oversights or writing Harry’s blindness incorrectly/badly, please let me know! TW for child abuse, mentioned and in part shown.

Harry stumbled on the curb. It wasn’t unusual, he could never tell where it was. Picking himself back up, he stood carefully and concentrated on continuing along the path. The colours weren’t very strong here, but every now and then filaments clung to the path and the hedges he could hear. It was enough to mark the way for him to find the park.

What was unusual was the time - Uncle Vernon didn’t normally have Harry out of the house this early; the neighbours might see him. But today the Dursleys had visitors, and didn’t want their “blind freak” of a ward in the house. Normally visitors were in the evening, when there were fewer people out. Harry didn’t resent being told to go out. If anything, he liked the occasional ability to leave the house without the tyrannical eyes of his relatives on him. But it wasn’t easy to navigate even if the fresh air was a nice change. He couldn’t see with his eyes, other than a vague sense of light and dark - which wasn’t particularly useful when he spent most of his time in the cupboard under the stairs - but he could ‘see’ colours sometimes. Not with his eyes though, it was hard to explain. Number 4 Privet Drive was saturated in them, to the point he could nearly run up the stairs if he concentrated enough. If Dudley wouldn’t immediately push him back down again, that was. Most places weren’t though. Sometimes there were filaments flitting about, clinging to objects. 

Sometimes they were in people too. Not many, certainly not the Dursleys. If anything, the Dursleys were aggressively grey. Most people on the street were neutral. He had his own colours, sort of purple and red. Once in a while he’d see someone else with colours, but he’d never gotten to talk to them.

He kept walking, making sure each step was secure as the sound of birds surrounded him. Eventually, his uneasy gait found him at the park he so often waited at - it was a little easier to ‘see’ than most places, with a few colours in some places. There was a seat he could always sense well, and he would usually sit there and listen to the birds and the leaves of the trees. Rounding the corner, however, what he saw was new. It wasn’t that someone was sitting on the bench, that wasn’t out of the ordinary at this hour. It was what the person looked like to him - a swirl of red and blue, with golden flecks sparkling within. Also nearby were two other people - mostly grey but with those same tiny golden flecks - standing near what Harry believed to be the swingset.

“Oh leave her, there’s no harm in letting her read. We both know she’s more interested in math than the swings,” said a voice - probably a man, Harry thought - belonging to one of them. “With all the books she carries around, frankly she probably doesn’t need much more exercise than the walk here!” Whoever it was chuckled.

“I guess so, Dennie. But we came here to relax, and she always insists on reading!” said the other flecked figure, who Harry thought might be a woman. The parents of the person sitting at the bench? Harry resolved to ignore them and instead see if he could find somewhere else to sit. He wasn’t supposed to speak to strangers. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, as he meandered around. If memory served him correctly, there was another bench to the right, and he hesitantly began stepping nearer to it, hands groping slightly - he didn’t want to draw attention though.

Gravity inverted as he was suddenly reminded of the small platform the bench in question stood on - by walking into it. He slammed down onto the stone slab, his arms flailing. One of his elbows caught the brick edge and pain erupted through his left arm as it grazed and he gasped. All three of the figures reacted - the one sitting on the bench seemed to look up abruptly, and he heard her book close. The two greyer ones started over with cries of alarm, panic filling Harry’s mind.

“Oh my word, are you okay there?” the man asked, much closer than Harry had realized.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled quickly, struggling to stand as what he believed to be the man’s arm stretched toward him. He wasn’t supposed to touch strangers either. The other figure joined them, moving as if she was looking him over.

“Hermione dear, would you go grab the plasters from my bag? He’s got a cut or two. What’s your name, dear?”

“H-harry,” he replied shakily. The sparkling girl stood and ran over to what must have been the woman’s bag, then came over to Harry, holding her arm out, presumably with plasters which the older woman took.

“What happened to your  _ eyes _ ??” came the incredulous plea for knowledge from Hermione, inciting a sigh from her father.

“That was rude, Hermione. Sorry about that, Harry was it?” Hermione mumbled an apology as Harry nodded. “I imagine you didn’t know the step was there?” the father asked, kindly.

“No sir. I’m sorry, I’ll go.” Harry started up, teetering off balance as the woman held his arm.

“No no, that’s okay. Um, if you don’t mind me asking, did you forget your cane? I don’t see a seeing-eye dog or anything.” Harry opened his mouth in confusion before the man spoke again. “Know what, forget I asked, that was rude of me.” Something tapped Harry’s arm.

“I’m just going to put a band-aid over this graze, okay? It’s bleeding quite a bit and you wouldn’t want to make it worse.” Harry nodded mutely, thinking of other things.

“Cane?” he finally asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, a probing cane to tell if things are in your way. Did they not give you one??” The man sounded confused at Harry’s confusion. Harry shrunk back slightly, thinking he’d said something wrong.

“Who?” There was a pause.

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said carefully.

“All done!” said the woman, gently taking her arm from Harry’s.

“Tha-thank you ma’am,” Harry mumbled, turning back to the bench and tentatively poking for the ledge with his foot. Finding it, he stepped up and set to finding the bench. After it seemed Harry wasn’t continuing the conversation, the adults backed away again, and Hermione seemed to have gone back to her bench. He gently rubbed the elbow, realizing with a shock that Uncle Vernon would probably be able to see whatever it was and know he’d spoken to strangers. Picking at the sides in mild panic, he quickly came to the conclusion that removing it would be inconvenient. He’d just have to cover it with his hand. If only he’d worn something with long sleeves, he thought.

He was disrupted from his concerns by the approach of a red and gold swirl - the girl from earlier had come over, her shoes clicking on the concrete slab.

“Hey um, sorry for earlier. Your eyes are actually pretty cool like that,” she said, becoming enthusiastic. “My name’s Hermione, what’s yours?”

“I-it’s Har-harry. Harry Potter,” he replied, looking down.

“Mind if I sit? I finished my book.” Harry felt for the edge of the bench to make sure he didn’t fall off and scooched over, wordlessly. He felt the reverberations as Hermione sat down unceremoniously. “It really wasn’t that challenging, maths isn’t hard. What’s your favourite subject?” Harry shrugged.

“Don’t have one,” he answered, slightly evading the subject as he rocked gently on the spot.

“Huh. I’ve always enjoyed math, but history and english are pretty fun too,” Hermione rambled on. Harry took a moment to observe her colours more closely now that she was sitting next to him. They weren’t as vibrant as his own could be sometimes, but they flashed wildly through red and blue - the golden flecks were more like rivers, bordering the colours and branching off into pools of green and orange.

“I’m being awkward aren’t I? Mum says I do that a lot.” the girl asked, as Harry realized the awkward silence. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” Harry didn’t know what to say. “Wh-what-wh-what-what do my eyes look like?” he eventually asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You-you-you said my eyes look cool. Do they look d-different?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah. They’re kind of all white, like milk. Your face is a little red around them too, did something happen to them?” Harry could hear Hermione was glad for the engagement, but the final question sent a chill down his spine.

“Not supposed to talk about it.”

“Oh. Um. What colour did they used to be?” she was clearly not as glad at that answer and Harry cringed at his own clumsy protection of the secret Aunt Petunia had demanded he keep.

“They used to be green,” Harry said, remembering his reflection from a long time ago - it had been at least three years now, and his only memories of it were as a toddler. “Aunt Petunia says they look like my mother’s. Well, did.”

“Is your mum nice? Where is she?” Hermione it seemed was overflowing with questions for the strange child she was met with.

“I-she-I don’t know. She’s... not around anymore. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon take care of me now.”

“And are they nice?”

Harry looked away in simmering panic, at least as much as someone blind and capable of seeing strange colours in a 360° arc could. Aunt Petunia had told him not to lie. But Uncle Vernon would beat him if he told the truth to the interrogative child. Instead, he opted for silence.

“Oh.” Harry could hear that Hermione had figured it out. He didn’t know what was worse; her knowing just from silence, or that someone knew now. If Uncle Vernon found out… “What year are you in?” she asked, in a brighter tone.

“Huh?”

“What year are you in? At school?”

“Oh. Well Dudley’s in his first year, but I stay home.” Harry didn’t know where to toe the line, but more silence was only going to make her more suspicious.

“Oh, you’re homeschooled? What’s that like?”

“Uh…”

“How do you take notes? Being blind can’t make that easy.”

“Uh…”

\--

The two talked for a while, Hermione eventually realizing that the topic wasn’t one Harry was willing to speak on. The two were both the same age, 6, and Hermione went to a different school than Dudley did. Hermione’s parents were dentists, and they lived a long walk away. They eventually played hide and seek, with Harry always finding Hermione immediately. Alas, where Hermione stuck out like a sore thumb to Harry wherever she was, Harry’s blindness made it hard for him to hide in the first place, and the two tired of the game. She ended up reading some of her math book to Harry after he expressed interest.

“Hermione, it’s getting late, we’re off! Come on,” her father called as her mother gathered a bag.

“Oh. Sorry Harry, I’ve got to go. Actually, you live near here right? You said it can be hard for you to get around, would you like us to help you?”

“Um,” Harry thought for a moment. He’d have to guide them to Privet Drive, or at least tell them the way. But he couldn’t tell them where he lived - just the thought of Uncle Vernon seeing someone guiding him home was enough to send involuntary shudders down his spine. Then again, he didn’t exactly enjoy the callouses on his elbows, knees and palms he’d acquired from constantly tripping over things on the way. “Yes please. I can tell you the way.”

“Okay! I’ll ask my mum.” Hermione jogged off. Hearing their voices, Harry stood gingerly and rubbed his arms for warmth. After a few seconds, as Harry carefully made his way off the bench’s foundation. The glittery girl swooped back over, the greyer parents following. “Should I hold your hand, or..?” she asked, seeming unsure of what was appropriate.

“Yes, please,” Harry said, offering his own, which she took.

Harry didn’t know the names of the streets, which led to some problems at a complicated intersection where he really only knew the direction. Regardless, the way had more flecks of colour along it than the rest of Surrey, so following it wasn’t so hard. Hermione marvelled at how well Harry could tell cars were coming. Harry meanwhile thought Hermione must have had fluff in her ears not to know. Eventually, Harry slowed down a bit, knowing it was still a tad too light for the Dursleys to want him home yet, as Hermione and he walked ahead of her parents. Despite his apparently keen hearing, Harry couldn’t make out what they were saying. He did catch a few words though. “Skinny... clearly underfed... bad teeth… did you see the bruise on his collarbone,” and the like. It terrified Harry to no end what Uncle Vernon might do if he found out, and he tried to put it out of his mind.

“Careful of the curb,” Hermione warned, as they stepped down, crossing a road. “We should hang out again some time, you seem nice. Pity you don’t go to school though, it’d make it so much easier.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Harry said, whimsically. They were close to Privet Drive, he could hear the signature sounds of the damaged sprinkler on the corner - sometimes he’d accidentally walk through its spray, not knowing it was there, and end up soaked. “I’m good from here, thanks,” he announced, loud enough so that the parents could hear.

“You’re sure?” asked the mother.

“Yes ma’am. I know the way from here,” he pointed in the general direction of the sprinkler. “I know the bumps.” A car pulled out of the driveway of number 4, and turned down the main road. Harry couldn’t see the car, but he could at least see the brightness of the headlights burning into what remained of his sight, throwing errant colours into his real vision.

“If you’re sure then, dear,” Mrs. Granger said, coming over. “I do hope we see you again,” Harry could only nod at that.

“Oh well. Goodbye Harry, it was nice meeting you!” Hermione said. Again, Harry could only nod, hoping Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia hadn’t heard her say that.

“Another time, young man,” Mr. Granger said, walking past. Hermione’s distinctive colours flitted away, as Harry was left in the near silence of what was now most definitely night. Breathing deeply, he walked the familiarly bumpy path back to number 4, remembering to cover the plaster as he walked up the gravel driveway.

“Awfully prompt, boy,” Vernon growled as Harry crossed the threshold. “Were you hiding behind the flowers again? Eavesdropping on my business meetings?”

“No sir!” Harry protested, shuddering as Vernon’s footsteps grew closer and the grey mass that signified his presence drew nearer. Hoping to avoid an arbitrary scolding, he started to make his way toward the cupboard - he was glad to be able to navigate by colours here.

“The fuck is that on your arm, boy?!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Start of something fun, I hope! Again, I absolutely must credit Pharetra with the idea of a blind magic-sense Harry Potter. I’ve based his stammering on my own, if anyone was curious. If anyone is confused by the fact that I’ve tagged this as having Harry Potter as a trans girl but there’s little evidence of this so far, worry not, it’s coming. Might be a few chapters until we get the wee lass though - I have well-laid plans!!! Had to keep reminding myself she hasn’t figured herself out yet and kept calling Harry “she”. Don’t worry, we’ll get to “her” in good time. I’ve got concrete plans all the way into their second year at Hogwarts - I slipped up so many times writing this and referred to Harry by she/her and by what her name’s going to be.  
> As I said, if I’m doing a bad job of writing a blind character, let me know! At the very least I can amend the story and improve it!  
> Updates should come pretty quickly, I’m a fast writer, assuming uni doesn’t give me too much work - should have Chapter 2 up in a week or two I’m guessing.


	2. A Knock at the Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, fast writer! Mwahahahahaha! Sending the sad away in just a mo’. We’re gonna get to the fluff real soon, worry not. As before, TW for child abuse mentioned.  
> Oh yeah, I forgot to mention last time; this is based on the movies, not the books - it’s easier to rewatch the movies for reference, I ain’t digging through the 13 old moving boxes full of books for our ancient copies. The first movie is set in 2001, so this is currently set in 1996.

Harry stared at the ceiling of the cupboard. He couldn’t see much of it, the colours tended to fall after a while and didn’t stick to the bottoms of things. He liked to think of it as his own personal night sky. Flecks of colour clung to it for a bit, like stars all colours of the rainbow. Didn’t have a sun or a moon though. Regardless, he didn’t know what time it was anyway. Uncle Vernon had given him a clock that ticked constantly in the corner. He’d snickered the whole time he was hanging it on the wall - obviously, Harry could not read it. If it hadn’t had glass over its face he might have been able to feel for the hands’ positions, but even then he didn’t know what the positions meant. Nor for that matter did he know that Uncle Vernon had even set it to the right time.

He sighed, rolling over and sitting up, then immediately regretting it as hunger set his head throbbing and real vision buzzing with alien colours. He’d been in the cupboard all day? He thought so anyway. Dudley had been quiet for a long time, and then gotten back up again, so he assumed he’d been in there all night and the same time at least again. And he thought he could hear Petunia clattering about the kitchen, so perhaps it was a mealtime. His fingers gingerly met the coarse blanket he had, more akin to a bag that had been cut up, and tangled themselves within it. He didn’t tend to play with the toys Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had given him, second hand from Dudley - they had definitely deliberately given him the smallest toys that were most easily lost. And most easily stood on in the darkness that was Harry’s actual vision. It had taken time, but after vowing he’d never stand on another tin soldier one more time, he’d set about gathering every soldier he could find and putting them in a drawer. The drawer. Occasionally one or two would fall out of the oversized clothes that also went in that drawer. Yeah, that vow hadn’t exactly been ironclad. The soldiers probably were though. His feet were certain of it.

His reverie of tactile information from the blanket was interrupted by a sound. A rare sound to him. A knock on the door. Not his cupboard door, nobody who lived here would be polite enough to knock. At the front door. He heard footsteps moving past the cupboard - Vernon’s. He’d learnt to differentiate the Dursleys’ footsteps before he’d even been blinded. Another knock.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” Vernon bellowed as Harry shrunk into his blanket. The door opened. “Oh- um, can I help you?” A voice unknown to Harry responded.

“Hello there, mister..?” they led, gently.

“Dursley. Vernon Dursley,” came the gruff reply.

“Mister Dursley. We were wondering if a young man called Harry lived here? Harry Potter?” Harry swore he could feel Vernon’s arm tense.

“Did he do something, eh?” Vernon asked.

“No, not at all. We’d just like to come in and have a word with him, if that’s all right.”

“He’s uh, he’s not home right now. Probably off chasing cats or something.” Harry held his breath.

“That’s unfortunate, we need to speak with him at some point. Would you mind if we came in, waited for him to come back and all that?” another voice said.

“Er- yes, yes, come in. Petunia dear, we have guests,” he called back into the house.

“At this hour? We’ve barely started dinner. Oh all right.” Harry heard Petunia come into the hallway, petulant as always. “Can I get you two anything? Tea, coffee?”

As the strangers followed Vernon into the living room someone closed the door, cutting off Harry’s ability to hear what was happening. No doubt deliberately so. The muffled voices mocked him through the walls, as his famished mind struggled with the idea that people had come to talk to  _ him _ .

People had come to talk to him. Why would they want to talk to him? Who sent them? Did he do something bad?

Of the swirl of thoughts he found himself unwittingly falling into, only two things remained constant; one, that he needed to be quiet. Uncle Vernon wouldn’t react well if he had revealed himself before these unknown people left. He sat as still as possible, so as to not trigger the squeals of the rusty springs in the bed. Second, that last night had been the only time he’d left the house in over a month, by his understanding of time - it wasn’t as if he could read a calendar. Had he broken something on the way to the park? Not to his knowledge. The Grangers must have sent these people. Why would they send someone here? How? They hadn’t seen where he lived as far as he knew. Unless they’d doubled back?

The door opened again. He went rigid, holding his breath.

“And up there’s my bedrooms!” called the excitable voice of Dudley as his characteristic stomping resounded through the floor.

“Bedrooms, you say? You get two?! Lucky you,” said one of the strangers. Dudley was running up the stairs and Harry could feel the dislodged dust tickling his face. Fighting the fact he’d already held his breath and was quickly running out, he kept listening. He believed it was a pair of men, their shoes didn’t sound like Aunt Petunia’s did. He couldn’t make out much, but after Dudley had gleefully shown the two his dual bedrooms they didn’t come downstairs immediately, they were discussing something. He could hear something scratching, a pen maybe?

“Mr Dursley doesn’t deny that Potter lives here, but the son claims to have two of three bedrooms.”

“Odd, I know. Mr Dursley? Could you come up here please?” the other called.

“Give me just a moment,” came the disgruntled-sounding response as Vernon’s footsteps shuffled around a bit before coming back to the hallway. His footsteps were further apart than Dudley’s or Petunia’s. “Forgot your coffee, Mr. Jones.”

“Ah, thank you, if you don’t mind just popping that on the baluster for me?”

“‘course. Is there a problem?”

“Not as such, we were just curious - young Dudley says these are both his bedrooms, is that correct?”

“Right you are, he’s a good lad. Lots of things though, needs the space!” Vernon said with pride.

“Of course. We’re a little confused however, where is Harry’s bedroom? I don’t believe I saw a room downstairs and if all 3 up here are occupied, that one being yours and Mrs. Dursley’s of course, that doesn’t leave one for young master Potter.” Harry’s attempts to remain still increased tenfold as Vernon ascended the stair.

“er-Ah, Harry… Harry doesn’t like beds for some reason. Didn’t like the room before he let Dudley have it, tends to sleep in the lounge or, hell, on the stairs sometimes!” Vernon let out an obviously faked chuckle. “He’s a strange lad.”

“Riiight.” Harry could tell the man was suspicious. “Well, it’s getting on a bit, gonna have to come back tomorrow to speak with Harry if that’s okay with you Mr. Dursley?”

“Should be all right, I’ll make sure the boy stays home tomorrow. Always running off, that one.” Footsteps began to come down the stairs, heavier this time as Vernon came down. More dust. More and more.

“AA-CHOOOO!” the sound escaped Harry’s face before he had even the slightest chance of stopping it.

Silence.

_ Oh no _ .

The quieter footsteps continued down.

“Mr. Dursley,” said the first, his voice dripping with ice, “why is there a bolt on that cupboard?” Without bothering to listen to Vernon’s strangled attempts to come up with an excuse, the man came over to the cupboard and unbolted it.

No longer beholden to silence, Harry shot under the covers as fast as he could, squealing springs filling the air with cacophony before the door opened slightly and part of a grey figure poked in.

“Dear god. Watkins, stay out here would you?” it whispered. “Harry? Is that you in there?” Harry couldn’t move.

“I’m going to come in, is that okay?” He forced his neck to bend, nodding, paradoxically both hoping for him to see and not to; both for him to come in and for him to leave and let Uncle Vernon get the punishment over with. “Thanks.” The figure crouched in, sitting down on the floor beside the bed - he seemed to have trouble just finding the space to. “My name’s Terry, Terry Jones. Is this your bedroom, Harry?”

Harry forced himself to lean back up.

“Yes, sir,” he whimpered.

“And how long have you been in your bedroom?”

“Don’t know, sir. Since last night, I think.” His stomach growled angrily again, at the most inopportune moment possible.

“Hungry?” Harry nodded. “Here, I should have something for you to eat.” The man moved about, and Harry heard him rifling through his pockets, producing and opening what felt like a muesli bar which he pressed into Harry’s hand. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Last night, sir. Harmony gave me something, it was nice,” he replied through a mouthful of… whatever this was? It had the texture of very soft bread, with an almost gooey center - but unlike the stale bread he’d had for breakfast the day before, it was sweet. Not unlike what Hermione had given him, for that matter.

“Hermione, the little girl? She was very nice. What about before that, before you went to the park?”

Harry shrunk into the covers again, but made sure the bar remained in his hand. He could hear Vernon pacing near the front door.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble for going to the park. I just need to know how long it’s been since you had a meal is all. No-one’s angry with you.” Harry begged to differ, hearing Vernon’s heavy breathing even as far as he was from the door and remembering the dull ache still in his leg from when Vernon had hit him, but he answered.

“Had some toast yesterday, for breakfast,” Harry mumbled.

“Okay, good to know. I’m just going to turn on this light, is that okay?” Harry nodded, and there was a click. “I’m told you’re blind, Harry. When did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not supposed to talk about it.”

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it when you’re ready. I must ask, what did the doctors give you?”

“No doctors.”

“Not even at the hospital?”

“Hospital?” Harry heard Terry take a ragged breath as he leaned back out the door. 

“Watkins, has Rosemary got anyone right now?” he asked

“No, not that I know of,” Watkins replied quietly.

“She does now, get her on the phone,” he swung back. “Are all of your things in here too, Harry?” 

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, slightly confused.

“Would you mind telling me what you’d like to take with you and what you don’t mind leaving? I can get a bag if we need to,” he asked, starting to get up. The other person had gone outside, Harry could hear the wind from the open door, and they were talking.

“Take with me?” Now Harry was  _ really _ confused. Was he going somewhere?

“We’re going to go now, but you’re going to come with us, yeah? We’ll get you something warm to eat and a nice place to sleep, okay?” Harry sat up eagerly, dizziness threatening to throw him back down as he took another bite of the bar.

“Okay,” he said, slightly louder. Thinking, he wrapped his blanket around him and stood. Terry got out of his way as he stepped over to his drawer and pulled out his clothes - a few baggy shirts and a pair of track pants about 4 sizes too big for him, plus a few pairs of underwear. His socks, he was wearing.

“That’s all? You’re sure?” Harry could hear that the man was shocked, and he wondered if it would be the wrong answer, but nodded all the same. “Fair enough. Come along then young man.” Terry led him up and out of the cupboard. He pulled closer to Terry as they went past what he knew to be the figure of Uncle Vernon, who started spluttering.

“Harry will not be returning to this residence tonight. He will be seen by a doctor, and placed with a temporary foster before more permanent arrangements can be made. Is that clear? Good,” Terry said, and miraculously, Vernon moved back.  _ Someone had stood up to Uncle Vernon _ , was all that Harry could think about in that moment as Terry guided him to what must have been a car. The seat was comfortable, and Terry gently helped Harry buckle his seatbelt.

“Comfy?” Terry asked, as the other grey person - Watkins - sat in the driver’s seat. Harry nodded, humming in agreement as he resumed fiddling with the corners of his rough blanket.

“Thanks Doctor.” Something beeped. “Rosemary’s just setting up now, and the doctor’s on his way. Traffic’s murder though, he might be late,” Watkins said, as Terry got in one of the front seats and the engine came to life. Harry felt the car set off, as he left the Dursley household behind for what he hadn’t quite realized would be the last time, mouth and grateful belly full of what Terry told him was a chocolate fudge bar.

Harry liked chocolate fudge bars, he decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Impatient for the wee lass to figure herself out and be a girl? So am I, but alas we gotta wait. Plans are in motion, this stuff is really just the setup. We’ll get to it! And if this is any indication, it might only take a few weeks! And I’m talking with my lovely sibling Deathmunchkin (who helps edit these!) about some little things to keep it coming between chapters, so watch this space. My uni holidays are coming up real soon, so I’ll have even more time to work on this. See y’all again real soon.


	3. Found Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers come visiting and have a proposition for Harry. You know what I'm talking about if you've read the tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One guess what my favourite trope is lmao  
> You’ve seen the tags, you’ve seen the title. You know where this is going, let’s get this party started for real! This chapter be pure fluff. Slightly longer chapter than previous chapters, lots to do! Shouldn’t have any more significant mention of abuse, but just in case, there might be some residual elements in future chapters, so I’ll keep the TW. TW for child abuse, should only be mentioned past this point.

“Harry, lunchtime!” came the familiar voice calling from down the hall, cutting through the seventh song on the album . It had been about three weeks since he’d been rescued from the Dursleys, and it was starting to sink in that he’d never have to go back there. Unfamiliarity had opened into warmth and plentiful food. The house which had previously been intimidatingly spacious was now welcoming, his bed soft and his guardian gentle.

Rosemary was a kind old woman who’d been running emergency foster jobs for a few decades now - she’d seen her fair share of hurt kids, but Harry was her first blind one. Because the house had few colours, if any, he hadn’t seen fit to mention that sense.

“Coming, Rosey!” Harry called back cheerfully, feeling for and pausing the CD player and picking up his cane. The doctor had ordered it the night he was taken here, but it hadn’t arrived until a few days later. He was supposed to use it to sweep the space in front of him for anything he might walk into, and while he wasn’t used to the device yet it had been useful. It was nice to not have to rely on memory and the occasional errant colour. Oddly enough, since he’d arrived there’d been a bit more colour in the room. Did they come from him, he wondered?

Gently sweeping the cane in front of him, he made his way down the hall to the dining room, the smell of roast tomato and bacon filling his nose. He knew there wasn’t anything in the way, or at least there probably wasn’t, but he thought it best to get into the practice of using the probing cane. On the occasions when they’d gone to the park - not the same park as before, but similar - it had been instrumental in preventing further grazes and collisions. Low hanging branches were their own problem to solve though.

“Hey there, kiddo. Enjoying those CDs are ya?” Harry nodded eagerly with a squeak of agreement - upon discovering that Harry had neither a favourite musician nor known of any, Rosemary had dug a small CD player out of the garage and put it in his room, leaving him a number of CDs of hers to play. After teaching him how to use the device and making folded patterns out of tape that she stuck to the covers so Harry could tell which one was which, she had left him to figure out what he enjoyed. The louder, more heavy stuff he found unpleasant, but the gentler music was good. Some of the early work of a musician Rosemary said was called David Bowie was good - like the song he’d been listening to when she had called him, but there were a few songs on the album he skipped. The second was his favourite, the nonsensical lyrics made him giggle, closely followed by the gentle third song.

“There you go, get that down ya,” Rosemary said, putting a plate in front of him. “I know you liked bacon last time, so maybe you’ll like that - bacon and roast tomato sandwich. Plenty of butter and a bit of pepper on the tomato. There’s enough for seconds if you’re still hungry, or for a snack later.”

“Thanks Rosey!” It didn’t take long for Harry to gulp down the sandwich - he’d had so many new flavours these past few weeks. He felt like he was living like a king! Nobody shouted at him, he got fed several times a day and it was good food too! The bed was softer than perhaps even Dudley’s had been.

The phone rang, pulling Harry out of his gleeful contemplation as he jumped in fright.

“Be right back, dear, if you’re still hungry I’ve put seconds on the plate.” Rosemary left to the living room and picked up the phone. It was quiet for a bit, as murmuring echoed from the telephone and Harry eagerly chewed on more sandwich.

“Oh that’d be great! I’ve heard good things about little Hermione, I’m sure he’d love to see them. Well, not so much see, but you know what I mean. It’s a bit short notice, but hey, short notice is what I do,” Rosemary chuckled. Cogs churned in Harry’s head - was Hermione coming to see him? Another pause.

“2:30 it is! I’ll let Harry know, thanks for that Terry,” she said, before putting the phone back. “Harry! We’re having visitors in a couple of hours, the Grangers want to come say hi!” At this confirmation, what was a hesitant smile became resolute on Harry’s face. “Apparently they’ve wanted to come over for a little while now but they got caught up with work.” Ever since Rosemary had told him how it had been the Grangers who had gotten child protective services involved and were why he’d been rescued from the Dursleys that day he’d been immensely grateful to them. On one hand, had he not sneezed he would have been in for the worst beating of his life once Terry had left, but on the other it had swiftly removed him from what promised to be an utterly miserable life.

“I get to see Harmony?” he quickly asked. He’d been getting the name wrong consistently, but Rosemary hadn’t the heart to correct him.

“Yup! Mrs. Granger also says they have something to offer you, but I’ll let that be a surprise. Oop- you’ve got some sauce on your shirt, better go change out of that.” Harry immediately tried to figure out where it was, quickly getting more tomato sauce stuck to his hand.

He licked it off. Oh how livid Petunia would have been, he realized with continuing glee.

“Off ya pop, silly bub,” Rosemary tapped him on the shoulder gently as he giggled and started making his way back to his room. As he got down the hall he heard her get out the vacuum cleaner and start it. He closed the door and felt for the handles of the chest of drawers. Brushing his fingers through the appropriate drawer, he picked one whose texture he liked - he didn’t remember how Rosemary had described it visually, but it felt nice. Nowadays, Harry’s clothes fitted him, instead of being at least three sizes too large, and he had far more to choose from. He vaguely recalled Rosemary teasingly pointing out that some of the shirts he had chosen from what she had for the children who came and went from her care had been girls’ shirts, but he didn’t care - they were comfortable and warm, and to him that was all that mattered. He pulled the stained shirt off, carefully making sure it made its way into the washing basket before replacing it.

\--

Harry sat on the sofa, tapping his right hand against his left knuckle. The clock on the wall had chimed twice since they’d finished lunch, so if Rosey had been right about how soon the Grangers would arrive, their arrival was imminent. She’d mentioned 2:30, but unfortunately, the clock only chimed on the hour. He’d tried counting seconds, but he’d lost count immediately. He listened intently to the sound of cars outside, disappointed with each one as it failed to turn into the driveway and reveal the visitors. Every now and then he swore he could hear one slowing down, but those hadn’t been it either.

Another one took on the characteristic whine of slowing down, a bit stronger this time.

Gravel crunched beneath wheels and Harry froze. A car was in the driveway.

Harry straightened in his seat as Rosemary put her knitting aside.

_ Knock knock knock _ . Rosey got up and quickly went over, as Harry floundered trying to find his cane as quickly as possible without losing it and immediately losing it on the floor somewhere. As he heard the door open, he made a decision.  _ Screw the cane _ . He knew approximately where the hall was, he’d navigated the house okay before it had arrived, and that was before it had become a tiny bit more colourful.

“Hey there guys, come in, come in! Hey Hermione, how ya doing?” Harry swung himself out of the living room, hanging outward into the hallway and was greeted by, among the three grey figures, the smaller familiar oscillating blues and reds of Hermione Granger, golden rivers swirling through her.

“Harmony!” he exclaimed, at which Hermione - whose name was not Harmony - burst into giggles.

“Harry, lad! I don’t think we got the opportunity to properly introduce ourselves last time we met. I’m Dennis, and this is Valerie, we’re Hermione’s parents. I hear you’ve been doing well here?” Dennis said, extending a hand. It took a second, but Harry did hear it, and eventually found his hand as well as Valerie’s.

“Yes, sir. It’s nice here, I’ve been le-le-lear-learning a lot,” Harry replied. “Never had ice-cream before, it’s nice.” Dennis chuckled.

“I’ll be sure to remember that. Hermione’s been ever so worried, haven’t you dear?”

“Yeah! I wanted them to go get you away from those people but then I thought what if you weren’t home and they hurt you after they left, or if they weren’t able to get you away or what if there was a fight or what if the people scared you or-” Hermione was cut off as Harry homed in on her vibrant colours and pulled her into a hug.

“Thank you,” was all he said, muttered into her shoulder before the shocked girl relaxed into it.

“Oh - uh - you’re welcome. Also, it’s Hermione, not Harmony. Can see why you got them mixed up though, it’s not a common name,” Hermione said, quietly.

“Sorry Harm- Hermione.” He was still pronouncing it wrong, putting too much emphasis on the O, but it was better than nothing.

“I see your clothes fit you a lot better than they used to, no more rolled up baggy jeans. Comfy?” Valerie asked, kneeling down and - as far as Harry could tell - looking at his face. “Teeth could do with some work, but I’m sure you’ll come right in no time. Aunt and Uncle never took you to a dentist, I’m guessing. Dennis and I are dentists, we work with peoples’ teeth, make them better.”

“It’s fascinating!” Hermione said, “There’s so much more to know about teeth than I realized!”

“I’m sure it is. Harry dear, why don’t I go get your cane and you can show Hermione around, while I talk with Mr. and Mrs. Granger for a bit?” Rosemary said, moving into the living room and passing Harry his cane.

“Okay! This here’s the-the living room, but I guess Rosey wants it so we’ll come back later or something. Down here’s the bathroom, and over here’s my room. Rosey’s room’s down the hall, but I don’t-I don’t-I don’t think she’d like us going in there. Harry led Hermione to his room, where he sat down on the bed. 

“Can I open the curtains?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, uh, sure,” Harry replied, remembering suddenly that Hermione wasn’t blind - he’d just left the curtains closed since he’d arrived unless Rosemary had opened them at some point. Hermione pulled the curtains open, and sat down on the bed as well.

“Oh, um. I don’t want to be mean, but it’s Herm-I-one, not Herm-iO-ne.”

“Hermione?”

“Yeah, you got it!” Hermione clapped.

\--

“So you never got to learn anything?? Not even math?” Hermione was horrified.

“No, no-nothing. Dudley went-we-went to school though, I heard stuff from him. He said it was boring,” Harry said, eliciting a huff from Hermione.

“He’s clearly not paying enough attention. From what you’ve told me about him, he doesn’t sound very nice anyway, who cares what he thinks. You’ll get to go to school too now! You’ll have to catch up but you’ll love it. It’s all so interesting!” Hermione paused for a bit. “Maybe we could go to school together, if you wanted. I could help you catch up.” Harry frowned and turned to her, as there was a knock on the doorframe and he jumped a bit.

“Hey Harry, Hermione, can we come in? Mr. and Mrs. Granger have something to ask you,” Rosemary said. Harry nodded, still confused by what Hermione had said as Dennis and Valerie came in and sat on the floor in front of the two.

“Hey there Harry. Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we’ll let you two get back to catching up once we’re done,” Valerie said. “You know how this place is a temporary shelter, yeah? And do you know what that means?” Harry nodded, at least to the first.

“Not per-ma-nent? Don’t know what that means either, sorry.”

“Okay, so that basically means you’re not going to be staying here forever.” Harry stiffened up. “No no, don’t worry, you’ll never have to go back to the bad place either. This is what’s called an ‘emergency foster home,’ basically Rosemary takes care of kids who were in real bad situations and had to be taken away on short notice. This is where you’re taken care of before somewhere else is sorted out, does that make sense?”

“Yes, Mrs. Granger. Valerie,” Harry said, remembering the name.

“So, keeping that in mind, we came to ask if-” Valerie was cut off as Hermione piped up.

“If you wanted to come live with us!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’d be like my brother!” Valerie and Dennis laughed slightly.

“Yes, if you wanted us to be your family. Hermione would be your sister, and we’d be your new mum and dad. Don’t have to decide now, but we thought we’d make the offer,” Valerie clarified.

Harry thought. If he couldn’t stay here forever, and he had to go somewhere else, he at least liked Hermione. He hadn’t talked with Valerie and Dennis much, but they seemed nice, and they’d said they took care of people’s teeth. Good people took care of people, so then they must be good people. Hermione was intense, but she was very friendly to him - Harry had never had a friend like that. Harry had never had a sister.

“We could go to school together,” he mumbled, mulling it over.

“We’d have to make sure you’re not going to the same school as that godawful Dudley I’ve heard about, but Hermione’s said she doesn’t know of a Dudley at her school so it should be fine,” Valerie said.

“So I could… I could come live with you? And go to school with Hermione? Per-man-ent? Ly? Permanently?” he asked, hesitantly figuring out the word.

“Yeah, permanently. Does it sound good to you?” Dennis asked, as Hermione bounced a bit in excitement beside Harry.

“Yes. Yes, that sounds good!”

\--

The Grangers came to visit a few more times that week, during which Rosemary and Terry promised they were just figuring out paperwork. Often the parents would drop Hermione off, or Hermione would come over after school and tell Harry about the work she’d been doing. This time, Terry had accompanied them, and Hermione was sitting bobbing her feet at the end of the bed as Harry fiddled with the CD rack as the adults had some lunch, finding some he hadn’t listened to yet.

“What’s your favourite one? You never said,” Hermione asked.

“Oh, um. One sec,” Harry said, moving his hands back to the top of the stack, where he thought the correct album was. Tracing the tape on its surface confirmed it, and he passed the CD over to the girl. “It’s on there, the second one. The third one’s good too though.” Hermione erupted into giggles as she took it, flipping it over. “What?”

“Was that deliberate?!” Hermione asked, struggling for breath as she laughed.

“Was what deliberate?” Hermione stopped, quiet for a moment.

“Wait wait, didn’t Miss Rosemary tell you the names?”

“No, why?”

“The first three songs on this album are  _ Space Oddity _ , which is the name of the album,  _ Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed _ , and then, the third is called  _ Letter to Hermione _ !” Hermione once again erupted into giggles, this time joined by the young boy, neither hearing the footsteps coming down the hall.

“Hey guys,” Terry popped in, as Harry damn near jumped out of his skin, “could you two come over to the living room please? Finally figured out your paperwork!” The two hurried over, pausing only for Harry to grab his cane and navigate around a number of bags Terry had brought for his use - bags now full of what clothes Harry had chosen, and a number of his toys and things.

“There we are!” Terry said, as the two entered the room and sat down on the couch. “Was a bloody hassle to find your birth certificate, young Harry, but we eventually found it with some private hospital called Saint Mungo’s, but we got it. Here we are.” He pulled a piece of paper out. “Harry James Potter, born to James Potter and Lily Potter on the 31st of July, 1990.”

“Hah, you’re gonna be my little brother!” Hermione taunted, possibly poking her tongue out at him. “Should be in the same year at school though.”

“Quite right, Hermione. Looks like the Dursleys never even had legal guardianship of you, interesting. We might want to look into that,” Terry said, curious.

“Uncle Vernon said I was left on the doorstep after my parents died in a car crash,”

“Not exactly the proper channels. Anyway, circumstances aside, all the paperwork’s been signed but we need your signature, Harry.”

“My signature? But I can’t see?” Harry said, confused.

“It’s okay, we can use a thumbprint in this case. Basically I’ll have you press your thumb in some ink and then you’ll press it in the signature field, I just need to sign as well to confirm I witnessed it.”

“Oh, okay.” It took a bit as Terry read what Harry was signing to him, making sure he understood it and what it entailed - Harry would be adopted by the Grangers, and legally be considered their child. Rosemary helped guide Harry’s hand to the little ink pad, and then onto the paper. He heard Terry sign as well, and the Grangers applauded this newest addition to their family.

It didn’t take long for them to finish packing Harry’s things after he’d washed his hands - while he’d gained a number of belongings, toys and clothes mostly, it wasn’t much. He left the house with neither the oversized hand-me-down clothes from Dudley nor the rough makeshift blanket he’d arrived with - in their place were his new clothes, and a soft throw blanket Rosemary had bought him. She’d let him keep some of the CDs, just his favourites though. Harry climbed into the back seat of the car after Hermione, stowing the bag in the footwell and resting his feet on it. The car was bigger than the one Terry and Watkins had taken him to Rosemary with, had plentiful flecks of colour adorning its interior (mostly on the right side) and smelled of what he thought must be mint - or at least, Rosemary’s toothpaste had apparently been mint and it smelled similar.

“All buckled in back there?” Valerie asked, from the driver’s seat.

“Yes Mrs. Granger,” Harry replied. “Mum,” he corrected himself, a smile growing on his face as the car left Rosemary’s house - as he left it as Harry James Granger.

\--

Gently hanging his head out of the window, Harry was amazed by the seeming frequency of his colours as they drove. They clung to paths, fences, hedges and even bathed some houses in such concentration he could see the different panes in windows.

“Do you like the wind?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, it’s nice. There’s a lot of colours too, I can’t sense them when the window’s closed,” Harry replied idly.

“Colours? I thought you were blind?” Hermione sounded more than a little confused by that.

“I can’t see them, it’s not my eyes. I dunno, it’s hard to explain. It’s like… in my mind. I can kinda sense that house over there, and that one. You’ve got colours too, I saw them when we first met. Not everyone does.”

“Ooooo… What colour am I?” Hermione was eager to learn more, Harry guessed.

“You’re kinda blue and purple with yellow squiggles. They’re not as colourful, but they’ve got little bits of yellow in them. Most people don’t have any,” he replied, nodding toward Dennis and Valerie.

“Wait so can you see me doing this?” Harry heard movement, but couldn’t see whatever it was.

“No, it’s not quite the same - it’s like a blob in the middle of you. Actually, the inside of the car has them too, I think people with colours kinda leave them all over the place.”

“Oh. That’s cool though, can you use them to get around? Do you have your own?” Harry looked down at himself, looking at his own ‘core.’

“Yeah, I’m kinda like purple and red with green swirly bits.” He didn’t really know how to explain the bits that, had he seen a television properly before going blind, would have looked like static.

“Here we are, Harry. Home sweet home,” Dennis said, as Valerie turned the car into a concrete driveway and Harry looked in amazement out of the window. The Granger house was bathed in psychedelic purple, blue and gold, flecks of all colours wafting about as the car slowed to a stop. It was three floors, pretty small with the top floor probably partially attic, and separated from the houses on either side, with hedges absorbing some of the walls. A chimney struck out of the steep roof, and the smell of flowers on the hedges wafted through the air. Harry opened the door and hopped down, only relying very slightly on his cane to tell where he was going. He plucked his bag out of the car and closed the car door again, hoisting it onto his shoulder and following behind Mr. Granger as he went over to open the door. His dad, he reminded himself. The man opened the door and ushered Harry inside, who was greeted with just as many - if not more - vibrant reds, blues and golds. Definitely Hermione’s colours, he realized it had mostly been his own colours at the Dursleys, so he considered his theory on them being ‘shed’ by people with colours to be true.

“Right then. Lotta stairs unfortunately but we’ve made sure you won’t have to use ‘em too much. Your bedroom’s down here, used to be Hermione’s. Got the bathroom on your right, toilet beside it.” Harry poked his head in and probed around with his cane to be sure. The colours were really coming in handy. “Hers is the second floor landing, and there’s a second bathroom there too. Mine and mum’s room is up on the third floor, but you don’t need to go up there, ‘kay?” Dennis said, guiding Harry around. “Through here’s the living room.”

Valerie and Hermione finished the tour, ending by bringing Harry to his new room. While it was about the same size as the room at Rosemary’s place, it was downright cavernous by Harry’s standards. He had his own, big room, and it was permanent.

A new house to live in, where he didn’t have to hide in a cupboard all day.

A new family, who loved him and would treat him well.

A new life to enjoy for Harry Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song he’s listening to at the start is Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud. I hadn’t actually remembered Letter to Hermione was in there, but as soon as I saw it I knew I had to include it. Don’t think he knows what it’s about though.  
> Hoo boy this chapter got long - almost as long as both Chapters 1 and 2 combined!  
> Disclaimer: I live in New Zealand and don’t know shit about the English school system. Given I read that the term at Hogwarts starts in September and both Hermione and canon!Harry were in the same year, I’m assuming that tracks. Ours starts in February because our summer is between December and February, so yeah.  
> A reminder that these are based on the films, not the books - the movies take place in the 2000s.  
> And yes, we’re gonna get to the trans part soon! Hold on in there folks, she’s coming. Next chapter, I promise.


	4. A Fresh-ish Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Granger explores the new school he goes to, his life with the Grangers and some questions burning in his mind. It’s not all sunshine and roses, but it’s a hell of a lot better. Some new truths are discovered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s gonna have a number of time-skips and is mostly general - we’re basically scrolling through their life until we get to the good bits. Mix of happy and sad in this one.  
> UPDATE: I realized that because the school year works differently in England, Dudley wouldn’t be in his second year at school in Chapter 1, he’d be in his first - that’s been updated.  
> TW: Child abuse (mentioned) and bullying including ableist slurs (r word, blindness being subject of bullying) (shown)

**September, 1996**

A few months came and went, with Harry’s new parents organizing tutors to come and help him get up to speed. This wasn’t without its ups and downs, with the boy entirely unfamiliar with the concept of teaching. In order to take notes, he’d learnt some rudimentary braille, and despite the inability of the Grangers to really afford the horrendously expensive braille textbooks, Hermione had happily sacrificed the majority of her Lego for the purpose - using 3x6 tiles to create a box of letters for him. He messed up every now and then, but the makeshift Lego notes had been helpful for maths in particular and so Mrs. Granger had gone and bought the required tiles in bulk for him and spent an afternoon putting together more letters with him.

While it had certainly helped, it hadn’t left him entirely prepared for the new environment of school - on top of the lack of previous education, it wasn’t exactly practical to bring Lego to school, and was met with dislike the first time he tried. For the time being, the teacher aide who helped him wrote notes for him and Dennis had transcribed them into the tiles. It wasn’t long before it was suggested that Harry bring a tape recorder, with which to record lessons. Some teachers had been put out with the idea of being recorded, but after the principal had had to step in a number of times they relented. This too was limited and occasionally mistaken for music, but easier to use for homework. Homework was its own challenge, with exhausted parents taking turns to help after they got home from work.

He and Hermione were in the same class - by design or not, Harry didn’t know, but it helped to have his sister there to explain things. In their class, they were the only two with colours - only three other kids at the school had them, one 5 year old and two nine year olds - their parents did too. None wanted anything to do with them, but thankfully it seemed their presences had help spread colour around the grounds. It wasn’t enough to walk without needing the cane, but it was enough to tell where he was in most places.

After months of healthy eating, Harry was well on the mend. He had so much more energy! The Grangers, being dentists, had been a little more strict on treats than Rosemary had been, but he didn’t blame them for it - it was good for him, and it was kinda Rosemary’s job to be really nice. Thankfully, ice cream and chocolate fudge bars weren’t entirely off the table. They’d also made sure he got into the routine of brushing his teeth properly, and being dentists had guaranteed he got the care he needed.

It didn’t take long before the teasing started. Hermione didn’t seem to notice the jeers thrown at them, but to Harry they reminded him all too much of a certain old cousin he’d only recently escaped the taunting of. It hadn’t gotten physical yet, but that didn’t stop Harry from instinctively expecting it to. But he’d had worse thrown at him over the years, literally and figuratively, he could only be called “buh-buh-buh-buh-bat boy” so many times before he just laughed at it. He did however quickly gather from what was called at his sister that Dudley’s lack of interest in learning was more common than her intense curiosity.  _ Who cares what they think _ , he thought to himself, echoing Hermione’s words on the abusive cousin. All in all, he didn’t let it ruin the life he’d been so glad to acquire. Hermione’s seventh birthday passed that month, and while she didn’t invite any friends, Harry was ecstatic to have been to his first birthday party even if it was only the family. And any occasion where their mum and dad not only allowed but encouraged cake was sure to be a good one indeed.

\--

**December, 1996**

Christmas Day too was perhaps Harry’s favourite day ever, better than even Hermione’s birthday. The weeks leading up to it were filled with jolly music and gingerbread, and the day itself was its own treat. It wasn’t just Hermione who got gifts, but he did too! It was perhaps significantly more restrained than the absurd showering of gifts Dudley had been given (Harry shuddered briefly at the memory of Dudley’s shrieking that they weren’t big enough), but it was significantly more thoughtful. Harry had, on that day, received more heartfelt gifts than any meager allowances he’d been given by the Dursleys over his entire life with them. Among them had been audiobooks, new music and a plethora of new clothes. Since his measurements had changed dramatically now he’d been fed properly the clothes he’d worn at Rosemary’s didn’t fit him anymore, to his chagrin. They had been a little more comfortable than the new ones - not that he didn’t appreciate the new ones - and he realized in bemusement that it had been the girls’ shirts that had been more comfortable. Maybe he should ask about that, he thought.

\--

**February, 1997**

Despite Harry’s hopes, the bullying against Hermione and himself didn’t stop after Christmas. If anything, it only got worse, with Harry’s laughter at things like “bat boy” being replaced with sullen silence at things like “the nerd’s blind retard pet.” “Trying to record our secrets” and “too dumb for 2+2” followed the pair, even though Harry consistently did better in math than them - to be fair, he supposed they’d only accuse Hermione of cheating for him if he defended himself. Hermione got too much flak from the other kids for him to give them more ammunition.

Eventually, in early March, the day Harry had dreaded finally came; the bullying stopped being psychological. It started small - trippings that they pretended were by accident, but after a while the pretence was dropped and the jeers accompanied it. A bolder one even pushed him down a few times. But unlike when Harry had first come to the school, the teachers didn’t take his side anymore. Once, a kid called Brayden demanded Harry’s lunch money - at his panicked protestations that he didn’t have any, he’d been pushed to the ground and humiliated as he groped in the darkness for his cane - that had been taken by the bigger boy. At least this time a teacher stepped in, but nothing happened afterward. Brayden walked free and proud, and was only more careful to avoid the adults noticing.

The teachers never helped. It was always “what did you do to provoke him,” and “you can’t let them get to you,” with no action taken. Harry and Hermione sat quietly as some people came in to make a presentation about bullying, rattling off advice the two knew didn’t work. Harry quickly grew numb to the platitudes, jeers and semi-frequent shoves - he’d known worse, so much worse. Dudley had thrown him off the landing up the stairs once, and of course, Vernon and Petunia had done nothing. At least the teachers weren’t encouraging the bullies like his relatives had. He knew though that Hermione was affected more by it. She always said she was fine, but unless Harry’s ears were lying to him, she cried herself to sleep most nights. His room was, after all, directly beneath hers.

\--

**June, 1997**

They’d been sitting on Harry’s bed listening to the audiobook of  _ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy _ when it happened. Hermione had been oddly quiet all afternoon; Harry had hoped the story would help, and he wasn’t yet sure if it had or not. All he knew was that now, his sister was curled up in a ball on his bed, wrapped in a blanket, sobbing. He’d paused the audiobook and wasn’t sure what to do.

He had his theories. While Brayden and his gang of prepubescent narcissists never really affected Harry, Hermione was their favourite target. He didn’t know what to do either, part of him wanted to go and get their parents but another believed it might only make Hermione close up again, so he’d closed the door. Maybe this was good for her?

Hermione finally sat up, still crying but now into her hands instead of the bed so far as Harry could tell. Her colours were… different today. More erratic, sharp and spiky, lashing out at floating flecks like magnets. If anything though, it didn’t damage the flecks but instead empowered them. Gently feeling for her shoulder, he put his hand there in an attempt to comfort her. The colours in her centre spiked towards his hand, before receding as - presumably - she realized it was him.

“Wh-wh-wha-wh-wh-wha-what-what’s wrong, Hermione?” he asked, cursing his stammer. Hermione sniffed as he heard her raise her head.

“It’s- it’s nothing,” she said quietly. Harry didn’t want to contradict her, but he also knew she was lying. He simply shook his head as she spluttered again and pulled him closer into a tight hug. Her colours weren’t as jagged anymore, but they were still flickering and flashing. “Why is everyone so mean?” she whimpered.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, gently rubbing her back. She pulled away again, sniffing.

“Ugh, I’m such a baby - they’re worse to you and you’re not crying!” she exclaimed, as he heard her slapping herself on the temples and he pulled her hand away at the noise.

“You’re not a baby,” he insisted.

“But-”

“You’re  _ not _ a baby. You’re not.”

“I-it-it’s just,” Hermione slouched, staring down at her hands - hands Harry was holding, if not for comfort then to stop her from hitting herself. It was a habit he was determined to help her break. “I, I’ve never had friends. Not like everyone else does. They all just hate me, they always have.”

“You’ve got me, and I don’t hate you,” Harry said, hoping to bring a light, if a small one, into the darkness of that truth. He heard her exhale briefly. He wasn’t certain, but he knew that was normally associated with a smile, so he let himself believe that his sister had smiled at that.

“Before you, I mean. I never had a friend before you. Some kids let me talk, but they never  _ listened _ . They never cared. Then they left after a while. Not like you.” Harry had always focused on what Hermione had done for him - it had never occurred to him that his rescue from the Dursleys hadn’t just helped him. Before he could really think on that however, Hermione once again fell into tears. “How do you  _ handle it _ ?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I - I guess. I guess I just, I’ve had worse. I mean, you rescued me from worse,” he said, unsure of what he was saying - he didn’t know what saying he’d had worse would do, but it was the truth. He decided to elaborate, hoping it would give perspective rather than sounding mean. “I’ve been thrown off the stairs before. My cousin sprayed bleach in my eyes when I was little. But you saved me from more of that, Hermione. You haven’t had that, and that’s good. Just because I can handle it doesn’t mean that’s a good thing. You’re not being a baby.” Another thought hit him. “You know why they’re so mean? You’re cleverer than them, so you’re better than them at something - they don’t like that, so they try to hurt you with it. Being clever isn’t a bad thing, but they want you to feel like it is.”

“You’re right, I guess.” Harry wasn’t sure what happened next. Hermione didn’t move, he knew that much. She was still bundled up in the blanket, and both her hands remained in his. But without his input, and definitely without Hermione’s, the CD player clicked, and the banjo riff of the theme song started up again. What was strangest was that he could have sworn he’d ‘seen’ Hermione’s colours do it.

\--

**31st July, 1997**

It had been over a year since Harry had joined the family, and over time his room had taken on his signature red and purple colour scheme. The two had almost finished their second years of school - his first in Harry’s case, but in the second years’ class - and Harry had decided he didn’t like tests. In better news, it was his seventh birthday today. It had entirely slipped his mind that he even got one, until he was ambushed at the breakfast table with well wishes from the family. He still had to go to school though. The kids had gotten home a few hours ago, and Harry was sorting his laundry back into its drawers while he listened back to the day’s notes.

Mrs. Bindell droned on about nouns, bolstering Harry’s memory as he hummed to himself. His uniform, now folded, got put inside, and he bent back down to get the next clothes from the basket.

What his fingers brushed into wasn’t familiar. It felt like a jumper, but it was softer than any of his. Pulling it up, it was shaped like one, but the buttons were on the wrong side as far as he could tell. Checking, he found he was right - the tag was on the right side. It was Hermione’s, he realized, as he felt the shape of the school emblem sewn into its front just like his own. Why was it in his washing? His dad must have misplaced it getting their clothes off the line, he supposed. Stepping over to his bedside table, he took up the cane he’d stood against it and started toward the door to bring it up to his sister.

Something stopped him though, he wasn’t sure what.

He knew it was a bad idea, but he also remembered how comfortable the first clothes Rosemary had let him choose from had been.

Just once couldn’t hurt, right?

Putting the cane down on his bed, he slid his right arm into the sleeve, then the left, pulling the jumper on as the soft fabric welcomed him. The buttons took some fumbling, but he got them. It felt good. It felt  _ right _ , he didn’t know how to explain it even to himself.

It didn’t take long for shame to kick in. It was his sister’s jumper, he shouldn’t be wearing it. He hurriedly took it off, putting it down on the bed and holding his face in his hands for a moment or two. 

It was okay; she didn’t have to know. Picking up the jumper and cane again, he carefully made his way upstairs to give it back.

Of course, because it was his birthday, on top of being veritably showered with gifts he even got a cake that evening! He’d been told not to share what his wish had been at blowing out the candles, but he wasn’t going to anyway. He didn’t know what they’d think of it if he did, and he certainly didn’t know if his wish was possible. No, it would remain private.

\--

**November, 1997**

Once again, Hermione sat beside Harry on his bed, but this time the book being read was read by Hermione. The weather had elected for dreary rain rather than snow, and it tapped at the window as she painted images of an imaginary forest blanketed in snow, of a lion, a witch and a wardrobe.

His hair had grown out some since it had last been cut, and it tickled at his eyebrows and shoulders as he sat, listening intently. He was also sure he was taller, hanging branches he’d previously remained blissfully unaware of now threatened to add even more scars to his forehead to match the lightning bolt he’d been reminded was present.

School had started up again, both of them now in their third year classes, and the Christmas holidays were fast approaching. He looked forward to a repeat of the previous year’s festivities and the encouraged consumption of unhealthy foods. Last year, their dad had made a trifle and it had been perhaps the richest thing Harry’d ever eaten. He was determined to have a whole slice this time, he’d only been able to finish half of it last time.

Over the last few days, Hermione had catapulted through C.S. Lewis’  _ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe _ . She’d read it a few times before, scoured the school library for books she hadn’t read yet, read  _ those _ and then come back for seconds. As Hermione read out the descriptions of the Pevensie children, kings and queens, dressed beautifully, Harry found himself twisting the fabric of his track pants in jealousy of them. Abruptly, Hermione stopped.

“ _ That’s _ where that keeps going,” she said, closing the book and as Harry’s spine turned to ice, moved over to his closet, which he realized with a start must have been hanging open.

“Uh- I -uh,” he started, as he heard Hermione pull the offending jumper out from under a stack of other clothes.

“How come you’ve been borrowing this?” she asked, presumably holding it up.

“I- I uh. I’m sorry, I-” Harry’s brain crashed in on itself as his sister’s imagined sternness bore into his head, tumbling through anguish. He had known it was wrong when he’d first tried it on, he’d known it was wrong when he stole it from her laundry for alternating weeks, he’d known it was wrong when he stashed it away, otherwise he wouldn’t have hidden it.

“Hey, hey, hey, you don’t have to be sorry, I’ve known you’ve been doing this for ages, I just wanna know why,” Hermione said, bobbing over and taking his shoulder.

“Yo-you knew?”

“To be honest, you weren’t good at hiding it. And you had a pattern, I mean come on,” she giggled. “So why is it my little brother’s been stealing my jumpers?”

“I-” Harry tried to think it through for a second. “I don’t know, it’s just.. it feels better. More right, I guess. It was the same with my old shirts, the ones I got from Rosemary.”

“Oh yeah, they were girls’ shirts right?”

“And then it’s like,” Harry paused, unsure if he should continue. “It’s like, the girls at school get to be pretty and cute, I don’t. I can’t see them but…” he trailed off, thinking. “And like, Susan and Lucy, they sound really pretty and I wish I could be like them and…” His hand found his hair, fingers tangling into it.

“Harry… do you want to be a girl?” came the gentle, massive, complicated question from the lips of Harry’s sister. The question at which Harry’s life crumbled around, yet while it built a new foundation upon the answer.

“I… I think so,” she replied, remembering her birthday wish. “Yes.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaargh my babies! I was going to write the actual scene where Hermione and Harry get set upon by bullies on the way home, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I’m too soft!  
> My little nods to my own childhood continue in the form of the Hitchhiker’s Guide audiobooks - I had 4 discs of the old BBC radio play of it, but I never found out what happened on the 4th because my mother overwrote them with, funnily enough, Stephen Fry’s Harry Potter audiobooks. I’m told I quickly developed an extraordinarily similar accent to his, despite having never been to England xD I can’t for the life of me find the exact same radio plays I had, but like the movie they used Journey of the Sorcerer by the Eagles as the theme; that’s the music I’m talking about.  
> The amount of times I kept calling Harry she before the reveal, dear gods. Fluff incoming next chapter!


	5. Princesses Among Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione helps Harry search for a new name, with the prime target being the school library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Time for young Harry to come into her own and flourish once more. No trigger warnings for this chapter, it’s solid grade A fluff.

**December, 1997**

“ _ You got your mother in a whirl! She’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl! _ ” came the joyful but honestly rather poor singing from Harry and Hermione. “ _ Hey babe, your hair’s all right! Hey babe, let’s go out tonight! _ ” They weren’t in sync, not with one another or the CD player, but they were having fun and that was what counted. Thanks to the glittering blue, red and yellow painting the room, Harry could ‘see’ relatively well and for perhaps the first time in her life, she was dancing. They weren’t good at that either, a mess of limbs all askew, but again skill didn’t matter. With the door to Hermione’s room closed and the curtains drawn, Harry was wearing some of Hermione’s old clothes - a uniform skirt that didn’t fit her older sister anymore, some of her long socks and one of her t-shirts. She couldn’t see herself, but Hermione said she looked nice and that was good enough for her.

“ _ Rebel rebel! You torn your dress! Rebel rebel, your face is a mess! _ ” Harry span, feeling the airflow shift around her legs as the skirt twirled. She fell to the bed, dizzy and giggling as Hermione tried to catch her. Winded by her attempts to dance and sing at once, she stopped trying to sing and wiggled back into a sitting position.

“You like this song, huh?” Hermione asked, turning it down a small bit to talk. Harry blushed as a smile filled her face and the line she liked so very much came up again.

“ _ She’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl _ ,” Harry murmured whimsically. “Maybe one day I can go dancing like that. As me.” Hermione smiled, or so she heard her signature exhalation of happiness as she plopped down beside her.

“One day, Harry. One day,” she replied.

“Dun-dunno if I want to be called ‘Harry’ then though.”

“Oh! Do you want to change your name?” Hermione asked, renewed excitement ringing through her words.

“Yeah, I just - I don’t know what I want to be called though, I don’t want to copy someone in class or something, that’d be weird,” she said, thinking. “But I know I don’t like ‘Harry’.” Hermione though, from how she was bouncing up and down on the bed, had clearly had an idea.

“Mum and dad got  _ my _ name from a Greek princess, the daughter of King Menelaus of Sparta and Helen of Troy. Maybe we should look for another Greek princess with a name you like, that way we can have matching names!” Harry wasn’t surprised that she remembered the details. “We should get a book out of the library on Greek myths tomorrow and take a look!” At this suggestion, Harry’s mind was set alight with excitement.

“We’d be like twins!” she said, positively beaming.

“Yeah!” Hermione paused. “You’d be a princess,” she said, knowingly. Unable to contain her excitement any longer, Harry wrapped her arms around herself with a tiny squeal of joy as  _ Rebel Rebel _ concluded and the piano opening of  _ Rock ‘n’ Roll With Me _ started up.

\--

The next day, Harry spent the entire day veritably chewing her fingernails right down in anticipation. Given how often she heard Hermione tapping on her desk impatiently, she was looking forward to it too. When the lunchtime bell filled their ears with shrieking, both were out of their seats immediately, to the surprise of other students. The two siblings had always been the sort to stay behind and ask questions - occasionally only to be met with the snarky instruction to leave the teachers alone to their lunch. But today, they had a single destination; the school library. The two almost ran there, slowing down only in the knowledge that Harry would trip if they didn’t. The two hurriedly put their bags into the lockers provided - they weren’t allowed to take them in, for some reason - and rushed into the building. It didn’t take long for Hermione, who had memorized the Dewey Decimal System, to find the relevant literature. She’d probably already read them, Harry supposed. After maybe twenty minutes, while Harry listened to her rambling on about different themes and history, Hermione produced two books - one for each of them to get out, as there was a limit of one - one on Greek history, and one on Greek myth. After being reminded to make sure they were returned after the Christmas holidays, the two stowed the treasured books in their bags and departed to their day, and Harry remained entirely distracted for the rest of class, wondering what names awaited her in those tomes.

\--

“I don’t know why these aren’t in alphabetical order, but whatever. Let’s see… Semele? Daughter of Cadmus, mother of the god Dionysus - oh, destroyed by Zeus. Bit mean of him. Don’t know that you’d want to be called Scylla, I think I’ll avoid the monsters for now?” Hermione asked, as Harry listened intently, cross legged on Hermione’s bed.

“Yeah, no monsters please,” Harry giggled.

“Okay, no monsters. Maia? One of the seven daughters of Atlas, turned into a star in the Pleiades constellation?” Harry was dubious about that one - she may have liked the idea of stars, but she’d never actually seen them so far as she could remember. “Phaedra? Daughter of Minos, wife of Theseus - oh dear, caused the death of her kid. Still, not a bad name, what do you think?” Harry thought.

“Maybe, we’ll see what else there is first.”

“Persephone? Beautiful goddess of fertility and Queen of the Underworld?”

“What’s fertility?”

“Doesn’t say, but she’s pretty though!”

“It’s a pretty name, definitely on the list.” Hermione, who righteously objected to the folding of pages, bookmarked it with a piece of scrap paper.

“Penelope? Bit generic I think. Niobe - oh, Niobe’s sad.” She flipped through the pages, tutting. “A lot more boys than girls in here. Pass over the other book would you?” Finding it, she held it out for Hermione.

“Mnemosyne? Nah, I can spell it, but I don’t think everyone else could.”

“Why, how’s it spelled?”

“M-N-E-M-O-S-Y-N-E”

“Oh dear. Yeah-yeah maybe not.”

“Yeah. Hestia? Could be good, you could keep your old initials. Goddess of the hearth, sister of Zeus?”

“Ooo, I like that one. Hestia Granger, that can go-go on the list too,” Harry said, sounding it out. “To-to-top-top-top of the list so far though.”

“Ay, nice. I like it, sounds pretty. Let’s see what else there is. Daphne? Again, little generic. N’aww, hello Cerberus. Astraea, goddess of justice?” She paused, flipping through pages. “Ooo, I think you’ll like this one,” Hermione said.

“What is it?”

“Ariadne; helped Theseus slay the Minotaur in the Labyrinth,  _ also _ a princess like Hermione, granted immortality by Zeus, wife of Dionysus, actually a pretty popular figure. Also, sounds similar to your old name,  _ and _ ends the same as mine!” Harry’s mind lit up at that one. Hestia had been nice, but aside from also starting with an H there wasn’t the resemblance to her old name, unlike Ariadne. And she had to admit, she liked the twinning of the -ne end. It was there with Persephone too, but Persephone had felt a bit off. Like the jumper, skirt and blouse she was right now wearing, Ariadne felt right.

“Ariadne Granger. I love it,” Ariadne said. “Just gotta think of a middle name now. I could just change James to Jane?”

“I feel like Jane is a bit close to my middle name, Jean and Jane, I mean…” Hermione said, almost protectively. “James was your dad’s name, right?” It took Ariadne a second to remember what had been on her birth certificate.

“Yeah, I think so, why?”

“Why not just swap parents, take your mum’s name instead? Ariadne… Lily I think it was, Granger? Ariadne Lily Granger.” It felt a bit clunky to Ariadne, but to be fair, Hermione’s suggestion had merit.

\--

**18th of December, 1997**

The girls had planned it for the better part of two weeks, and the night had finally come. Ariadne ate her dinner slowly, picking at it with little concern for the taste. Her heart was in her throat, her stomach was doing somersaults and she could have sworn her hands were shaking. Nevertheless, she got through it, waiting for Hermione to initiate the terrifying conversation as she gulped down the last of the orange juice in her glass.

“Dennie, that was excellent. Mind getting those plates for me, love? I only have so many hands.” Valerie asked, standing up and picking up some of the cutlery.

“Sure thing babe-” Dennis said, before Hermione interrupted.

“Actually, Mum, Dad, would you mind sticking around for a second? I think Harry has something he’d like to say,” Hermione announced, seeming to turn over to Ariadne. The spotlight was on her, and the butterflies in her stomach graduated to a flock of pterodactyls. She heard their parents sit down and put the plates, cups and cutlery down again.

“Sure, no problem. What is it Harry?” Dennis said. Ariadne pursed her lips and took a deep breath. Her speech was hesitant and measured, she didn’t want to stammer here. She spoke slowly.

“Do you remember the clothes I was wearing when I first came here? The tops spec-if-ic-all-y? When I said that they were more comfortable, I didn’t mean just phys-ic-all-y.” She pushed through the words slowly and deliberately, knowing that failing to do so would result in repetitions. “They were more comfortable because they were girls’ shirts.”

She heard her mother exhale a breath she must have been holding.

“I- I’m… I’m…” she couldn’t say it. The word wouldn’t come, that word Hermione had found. She felt her sister’s arm take hers.

“It’s okay, do you want me to say it?” Ariadne nodded, closing her eyes but sensing no less. “Okay, I’ll say it. Harry is transgender. She was born a boy, but has since found that she feels better as a girl. Is that all good?” Hermione asked, once again gently squeezing Ariadne’s forearm. Once again, she nodded.

“That’s- that’s wonderful! That’s - wow,” Valerie exclaimed. “I wondered what the two of you were tiptoeing around so much for, is- is there something you’d rather be called than Harry?” Ariadne nodded, smiling now that her secret was out and accepted by her parents.

“Ariadne. Hermione said you got her name from a Greek princess, s-so-os-so we went to the library and found another one. A-and we switched my middle name from my old dad to my mum - Lily.” Relief flooded over Ariadne as the topic shifted to the name she’d come to love hearing, once whispered by Hermione behind closed doors, now spoken aloud in freedom.

“Ariadne Lily Granger? That’s beautiful. Whaddaya know Val, we got another daughter after all. Our two little princesses,” Dennis said, clapping.

“Anyway, we’ll leave you to it. Let’s go get you changed, Ariadne,” Hermione said, standing and starting to lead off. At their departure, Ariadne heard what she was sure was meant to be quiet, but she had better ears than that.

“Oh dear, we’re gonna have to replace some Christmas presents, aren’t we?” Dennis laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, this one. Boy, the number of times I kept calling her Ariadne before it was time was inhuman, even in the first chapter! No more wrapping my brain around new names and pronouns, we’ve got our gal.


	6. Lady Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne’s life continues, and eventually, her parents let her go to school as a girl. New uniform, new experiences, new bathrooms, and sadly, new bullies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, but alas I must divert from the fluff for but a mo’. Much like chapter 4, we’ll have some time skips bringing us up from 1998 to late 2000. Next chapter, we’re getting to the Good Shit.  
> TW: Bullying, transphobia, deadnaming, assault, trauma, child abuse.

**August, 1998**

The better part of a year had passed since that stressful night. Ariadne had never been happier, at home at least. Allowed to wear what she wished, their parents had even bought her new clothes - Christmas had been more meager in comparison, but they had assured her it was because of the timing and that many of their intended gifts had been inappropriate following the revelation that they had a daughter, not a son. It had been more than made up for on July 31st, as once again, her birthday came - her 8th. More gifts had awaited her that day than she thought she’d ever seen for Dudley, but unlike her old terror of a cousin, her gifts had thought behind them. Among them had been shirts, socks, girls’ jeans, and even a dress or two. A lego braille card gushed of how beautiful their “youngest princess” was and how far she’d come in so short a time. Hermione had used some of her pocket money to buy her a set of hairclips, each adorned with different tiny shapes - a butterfly, a flower and others became Ariadne’s go-to accessories. She noticed that even her own colours had changed - while they’d been strong before, now there was a confidence to it that she couldn’t explain. It fluctuated with mood, but she took comfort in the fact that this change brought strength to what the sisters had been calling her ‘core.’

Alas, however, her parents hadn’t allowed her to go to school as a girl yet. Much as her rebellious side urged her to collaborate with Hermione for uniforms and to sneak them there, she knew that the name on the roll wouldn’t be hers, and the teachers would yell at her. So every weekday, she’d gritted her teeth and taken the old name, becoming delayed in her reaction to it with each passing month. The teachers already hated her hair, and had pointedly suggested that boys’ hair should be shorter at parent-teacher interviews. But, for now, she didn’t have to endure it - the school year was over for the time being, and while she knew it’d be the same once September came, she relished its absence. She’d never thought she’d like not being at school, even with the bullying that had predated her long hair. Hermione had taken to calling her Ari at school, if only because it was rarely noticed by others. But Ariadne always heard the lack of an H and felt the tiniest bubble of joy at it. 

She was lying on her bed, not tired but also not particularly energetic that day. The CD gently played music, but not David Bowie this time. Instead, a recorded live performance of  _ Gallows Pole _ by Led Zeppelin was bursting from the speakers as she gently tapped her heel on the blankets and murmured along. As the song reached the convict’s sister, and the drums were unleashed, there was a knock at her door. Reluctantly swinging herself up and finding the pause button, she opened the door to the vague shapes of her parents.

“Hey ‘Adne, mind if we pop in for a bit? Got something to talk to you about,” Dennis asked. Ariadne stepped back in response, pointing them in as they shuffled through and sat down on the bed. “So. This, stuff with you being a girl. It’s obvious that you’re having a bad time hiding it at school, yeah?” Ariadne nodded, head hanging. “Well, we talked to some of the staff, and if you feel safe, we’re willing to let you go. As you, I mean. As Ariadne.” Ariadne’s brain erupted into activity as she instinctively looked up, inhaling sharply.

Safe wasn’t exactly the word she’d use for school in the first place. Brayden had left the school at the end of term, but some of his younger cronies were still about. She was certain that this development would only give the taunting and jabs more ammunition, but to be honest they weren’t exactly accommodating to begin with. Nasty kids would always find more reasons to be nasty. She’d had it for being blind, small, and all manner of things both imaginary and real. Being a girl now was just one more thing on the pile. Hiding it had sucked the life from the last year. Time for Harry to finally disappear for real, for Ariadne to take his place.

“Y-yes, yes please,” she said, as she nodded vigorously.

“All right then, we’ll let your teachers know. Hermione needs new uniforms anyway, so we might as well get you some too.”

\--

Ariadne had been to the uniform shop before, but never in a dress. It was one of her birthday gifts, and she was told it was light blue with pink flowers - their mum had made it. She could feel the shapes of the flowers sewn on, and that of the vine they snaked along. Her heart thumped in her ears as she stepped over the threshold, where she had previously been unable to go as herself.

“Okay, you shouldn’t need any new socks, but ‘Adne will,” Valerie said. “We’ll get you 5 pairs so you each have a week’s worth before we do laundry.” Ariadne heard one of them pick up a number of pairs and put them in a basket. “All right, basic stuff first - Hermione, would you show Ariadne where the changing rooms are so she can try these on?” She heard coathangers clack into her sister’s hands.

“Okay, this way Ari!” Ariadne carefully swept her way through the store - she’d been caught out before, tripping over some shoes in another store and hurting herself. People weren’t tidy in these sorts of stores. When they got there, Hermione pressed the clothes into her hands - a skirt and blouse - and she closed the door. They weren’t unlike Hermione’s old ones, but unfortunately those hadn’t fit her either anymore and had on occasion been damaged. She was glad not to have to wear a tie anymore, she’d never been able to get the hang of them, she realized as she tugged the dress off over her shoulders and pulled up the skirt. Once dressed, she stepped back out for the family to see.

“Oh, that’ll be a concern. Maybe some shorts to go under that too eh?” Valerie said, clicking through a rack and handing something to Ariadne.

“What’s a concern?” she asked.

“Ah, I’ll say front of your dress and leave it there, you go put those shorts on under the skirt and we’ll see if that fixes the problem.” Ariadne put 2 and 2 together, shocked that the problem was so visible. Cursing everyone else’s ability to see, she put the sports shorts on and stepped back out again.

“Much better.”

“We all wear shorts underneath anyway, it’s warmer that way,” Hermione said, making Ariadne feel less out of place for it.

“All right, let’s get you out of that and we’ll get you those, a jumper or two and a hat. Oh, and best get you a beanie too. Plenty comfortable?” Dennis said, as Ariadne bounced on the spot in response and headed back into the changing room. With her dress back on and the uniforms back on the hangers, she followed them around as they grabbed what was left and headed to the till, both hers and Hermione’s new uniforms in hand. The woman who ran the shop scanned them, Hermione imitating the beeps as she always did to the hushing of her parents. Ariadne heard her reluctantly go back to her more quiet practice of tapping her hand to the beeps, but every now and then she heard her defiantly smack her lips to the sound.

“Say, I haven’t seen her before, is she new to the… school…” the cashier said, trailing off as Ariadne heard her lean forward. “Thought he was a boy, what’s he wearing a dress for?” Ariadne shrunk back behind her mum as she could downright  _ feel _ the tension in the air.

“Not a boy,” she said simply, finding herself unable to process more as Hermione froze.

“Hmph, if you say so. That’ll be £58.70, would you like your receipt?” Valerie paid wordlessly, taking her change and pulling the kids away firmly.

“Well that was mortifying, you okay there Ariadne?” Dennis said, turning and taking her shoulder. She nodded, still under a cloud of muteness.

“All right, well, let’s go get you some new shoes for school eh?”

\--

**September, 1998**

The day had come. Ariadne shoveled down her breakfast so fast she almost felt sick, and put on her new uniform. While she didn’t have a mirror and couldn’t see it even if she did, but she gleefully twirled a bit and ran her hands down her sides. The soft texture of the jumper she’d only worn as cast-offs from Hermione before, now of her own greeted her. She put on her gloves and took up her cane, ready to go. She’d briefly been baffled by the lack of pockets on her clothes, and had had to put her lesson recorder in her bag instead, alongside her water bottle and lunch. Thinking twice, she put it in a plastic bag in case condensation from the bottle got on it. Swinging it onto her back, she strode out the door, newfound confidence ringing silently in the footsteps of her new shoes.

Instead of the usual walk, their parents had elected to drop them off today. Ariadne’s cane jutted out from the car door as she stepped down, looking for the curb as Hermione jumped out of the right side. Dennis and Valerie wished them a good day, giving them each a hug before driving off again to work. Eventually, after milling about in wait for class for some time, the bell shrieked in their ears and they sat down at their seats.

The teacher, whose grey aura like most didn’t convey who they were to Ariadne, sat down at their desk and after a brief introduction started calling the roll, asking the kids to tell the class something interesting about themselves. Ariadne, knowing her default answer to that sat and waited.

“Adam Young?” the teacher called. An unfamiliar voice, Ariadne noted. Adam responded, saying that his grandmother had escaped 1940s Germany. Ariadne was familiar with the answer, it was the answer Adam gave every year. She was ready to be internally scathing of the monotony, but to be fair, she thought, she wasn’t any better.

“Ariadne Granger?” Ariadne shot up in her seat in shock. She hadn’t considered that her new name would put her earlier in the roll.

“Uh-I, I-I-I’m blind,” she replied, a sensation not unlike brainfreeze creeping up her entire body. Once she’d gotten the strangled response out, she knew she couldn’t say any more. Luckily, the teacher didn’t pick on her to explain like they had Adam, and she was mercifully disregarded in favour of the next student. Around her though, she heard whispers. Whispers that didn’t exactly fill her with confidence.

“Granger? Blind Granger?” A stifled giggle responded.

“Oh we all knew Harry was a sissy,” they said. “Didn’t think he’d be so obvious about it though!” laughter erupted with attempts to suppress it as immediate as it had been. It had already been intercepted by the teacher, who stood.

“You two at the back. Something to share?”

“No miss…”

“Good. Your names? You can go next.”

As the mocking kids floundered, a pool of warmth flourished in her heart. Her name was on the roll. Her real name. Sure, some would treat her badly for it, but they’d been treating her badly since she arrived. It was better than them treating “Harry” badly, but she had to admit, the immediate stealthy rebuke stung as if it were more personal.

\--

Ariadne was quiet for the rest of the day, although that wasn’t abnormal. Wherever she went, she knew people recognized her - after all, there wasn’t another blind kid whose last name was Granger around, and she didn’t know what else she’d expected. She had good enough ears to hear the whispers, but whispers quickly became open conversations, and after only a few days became open taunts and jeers once more. It was a cycle Ariadne was very used to by now, it had gone the same way with her blindness. What she wasn’t expecting was how quickly the teachers would abandon protecting her; some didn’t even step in right from the beginning. They probably shared the sentiment, Ariadne had realized with a jolt. It would hardly shake her world though - they hadn’t had her faith to begin with, as they’d slowly turned a blind eye to the original bullying in her first year at the school. On the way home, she felt bittersweet, glad to be herself, walking down the road as Ariadne Granger, but at the same time, she knew it would attract hate.

\--

**February, 1999**

It was lunchtime, and the sisters were sitting in the courtyard. They both hated the field for the soggy grass and uneven ground, least of all sitting on it, so they sat in bewilderment at those who sat amongst the damp grass from the dry, flat concrete. Ariadne’s bottle stood empty in her bag, as she finished her sandwich.

“So  _ could _ you make a space station powered by hamster wheels?” Ariadne asked. The two had been on the topic for a small while, discussing the physics of it - Hermione had taken an interest in orbital physics of late.

“I mean, yeah, it’s not impossible. It’s just… dumb!” she giggled. “You’d need _so many_ _hamsters_!” Ariadne put her lunchbox away.

“Hey I need-I need to pee, do you mind?” Ariadne said, pointing. She realized she was pointing the wrong way and swung around.

“Sure, one sec.” It had become standard practice for Hermione to make sure Ariadne was safe in the bathroom - Ariadne had protested, but both Hermione and their parents had put their feet down. Hermione crammed down the remains of her sandwich and, mouth full, the two made their way over to the girls’ side bathroom. Hermione came in too, obviously not into the stall but hung about around the sinks. Ariadne completed her business and got back up, leaving the stall to go wash her hands.

As she found the tap, she heard another couple stalls open and two more students do the same. One of them stifled a laugh, right before gravity upended itself - her chin slammed into the sink as she fell, and her cane got tugged from her hands as it clattered into a corner.

“Hey - woah!” Hermione exclaimed before she too was shoved. “What are you- what?!” If she’d been paying more attention, Ariadne would have noticed that both her own and Hermione’s cores were frantic and shifting, but her attention was focused more on standing up. Just as she got to her knees, a foot hooked under her and flipped her back down.

“Not supposed to use the girl’s room,  _ HARRY _ ,” one of the girls snarled as Hermione tried to get up. “Boys aren’t allowed.” She could feel her breath coming short and laboured, tears escaping her eyes as she reached over to where she thought her cane was.

“Aww, blindey needs his stick? Hey Abby, catch!” Ariadne heard the cane getting thrown and frantically swung her arms in the air to catch it, before Abby threw it back again and the two tossed it between them for a bit, cackling at her feeble attempts to re-acquire the device.

“Hey, what’s in here?” Ariadne’s face went numb as she was pulled up by the bag, raking her hands through the air trying to grab at her assailant. “What’s this, your little recorder? Wonder how much it likes water,” the girl said as she rifled through the bag and pulled it out.

She couldn’t speak, instead a strangled cry escaped her lips as she heard a tap begin to run and the ziploc bag open. She tried to get to it, but she was held in place as she heard the plastic case get tossed as well. She wasn’t sure if Hermione was stuck too or if she’d completely shut down, but either way she was on her own. Despair filled her as she heard the recorder get dropped into a filled sink.

“Oh you want your little recorder? You can have it!” one of them exclaimed, throwing it at her stomach. “And you can have your fucking stick, blindey boy,” she continued, whacking her over the knuckles with it.

Ariadne’s ears rang. She was at #4 Privet Drive, marvelling at the colours when Dudley threw her off the second floor landing, crashing to the ground. Petunia was yelling at her and slapping her for burning breakfast even though she couldn’t see in the first place. Vernon was raging at the revelation that she’d gotten a plaster from a stranger. Dudley was spraying bleach in her eyes because he’d gotten bored and didn’t want to do chores.

She felt like she’d be sick, but it didn’t feel the same. All she knew is that she went rigid without any such bidding to her spine, and before she knew it, a shriek escaped her lips, the room was suddenly so awash with her colours that she could sense the outline of Hermione huddled and rocking violently in the corner, and a thunderous  _ CRASH  _ surrounded her, bits of something exploding across the room and scratching her face. The bigger girls screamed too, and Hermione fell into a ball on the ground.

She knew that sound to be glass shattering.

The mirrors had exploded. She felt the two run from the room, without a word to the terrorized sisters, as Hermione continued to wobble. Ariadne, whose spine no longer demanded straightness, found her way over to her sister and simply held her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. It took several minutes of comforting to get Hermione to even mumble anything, one word sentences at best. Ariadne almost forgot her own experience with her concern for her sister, she’d never shut down this badly before. It took the rest of lunch for her to jump at the shrieking bell and force out a sentence.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

\--

**July 31st 1999**

Ariadne’s 9th birthday had brought with it a safe elation that hadn’t existed at school in years. On top of that, it wasn’t a school day, and she’d slept in until damn near 11. She’d even been allowed to choose what was for dinner (she’d chosen chinese takeaways, as she hadn’t had them in a while) and after, the family had sung for her and brought cake. Once again, wishes were made over the candles, but Ariadne knew that it didn’t make a difference. Presents had been fewer than previous years, but more expensive this time - among them had been a nice dress which Ariadne had been overjoyed to discover had pockets within which to store nice-textured rocks and snacks, and a chess set. But no ordinary chess set was this, instead of coloured tiles it had inset and extruded ones, with pins to keep the pieces in place. Hermione too had been ecstatic to teach Ariadne how to play, somehow losing against her in their first real game. Ariadne suspected she may have been going easy, but Hermione had protested otherwise. She was told that the dress was black with white spots, and she loved the way the poofy pleats eternally shifted with her movement.

\--

**August, 2000**

Their penultimate school year was coming to a close, Hermione’s 11th birthday was coming up, and now Ariadne and she were among the elder kids themselves - while they got hassled by other kids in their year, no more was the harassment from bigger ones. Age wise, at least, Ariadne, despite her excellent treatment by the Grangers, would always be a bit small for her age.

In their report cards, Hermione and Ariadne had received exceptional marks consistently - Ariadne only hindered by her reliance on recordings and aides. In fact, the two were almost always top of their class, and had each gotten certificate after certificate for their performance. Ariadne had even tentatively joined the chess club, and while she’d had to fight to get her blind chessboard allowed, she’d learnt well since then, even besting some of the long-term members. They didn’t  _ like _ her, per-se, but they tolerated her better than most others did. One of the kids in the club had been the younger boy with colours, who bragged about having better chess sets at home, but every time Ariadne had tried to ask him about it he’d gotten all secretive. She’d immediately presumed him a liar and resolved to verify his moves where possible whenever she played against him. His colours were smooth gradients between blue and green, with no multicoloured bits drifting within.

At Prizegiving that year, Hermione and herself had gotten awards for their school work, Ariadne particularly for “overcoming great difficulty to complete classwork to a standard well above his- sorry, her peers.” She sneered at the obvious pandering.  _ Let them pat themselves on the back for being  _ oh so _ accommodating _ , she thought sarcastically.  _ As if half of them weren’t my biggest obstacles _ . Ariadne was even surprised to find herself called up as part of a certificate given to a member of the chess club, apparently he’d beaten another school’s champion or something. Ariadne hadn’t heard about it until now.

The two departed for the summer holidays with a sense of accomplishment, having overcome some serious difficulties and done so well - they’d even been in the G.A.T.E. classes for their entire year.

\--

**September 19th, 2000**

Hermione’s 11th birthday had finally come, and the family were scrambling about trying to find their dad’s keys. Ariadne, not exactly able to contribute, was sitting on the stairs in the hall while Hermione ran past to the kitchen to check for a third time.

“Are you sure they’re not under anything on the table? Check in the newspaper!” Valerie called from the bathroom. They were intending to go to the zoo for the day, it being a Saturday anyway.

_ Knock knock knock _ came a gentle, measured tap at the front door.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Hermione is meant to be exhibiting echolalia and stimming in the shop - I’m trying to write her as low support (a term I use as an alternative to the more harmful ‘high functioning’ label) autistic, but I don’t want to do so badly, so if I’m doing badly PLEASE tell me because I don’t want to slip into ableism by accident. Ariadne too to an extent but that might just be my self-insert instincts kicking in with her, she goes nonverbal there for a bit.  
> This was the hardest chapter I’ve written so far, didn’t want to hurt my babies!  
> Also no, Hermione isn’t going easy on Ariadne, she just sucks at chess. She’s not an expert at everything… yet. But she will study strategies to eventually beat her little sister!!


	7. Another Knock, Another Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knock at the door turns out not only to irrevocably change Hermione’s life, but Ariadne’s too - and not just because they’re apparently witches. Immediately after the end of Chapter 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!  
> TW: Abuse (mentioned briefly)

**September 19th, 2000**

Hermione’s 11th birthday had finally come, and the family were scrambling about trying to find their dad’s keys. Ariadne, not exactly able to contribute, was sitting on the stairs in the hall while Hermione ran past to the kitchen to check for a third time.

“Are you sure they’re not under anything on the table? Check in the newspaper!” Valerie called from the bathroom. They were intending to go to the zoo for the day, it being a Saturday anyway.

_ Knock knock knock _ came a gentle, measured tap at the front door.

“I’ll get it!” Dennis called, coming past Ariadne as he bustled from the lounge, ruffling her hair as he did. The door opened with a gentle creak and Ariadne straightened as she sensed what was beyond it. Whoever it was glowed with dazzling bottle green, golds and blues, almost shining through her father’s gold speckled greyness.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Granger, I presume?” came a woman’s voice, a heavy Scottish accent filling the air. It wasn’t just the woman who was filled with mesmerizing colours, but some of the things she was carrying too - something long and thin in her sleeve glowed gently, and what looked like Ariadne had heard glasses described as twinkled in the darkness. “My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and we need to have a discussion about your daughter Hermione - it’s her 11th birthday today I understand. May I come in?”

“Um. What do you mean ‘have a discussion about’? Can it wait?”

“That would take time to explain and would best be done in the presence of the rest of the family - and best not where prying ears may hear. I’m afraid it can’t wait, but it’s just about school, nothing bad I assure you,” McGonagall replied. “May I?”

“Uh- sure, come in. Valerie! We’ve got a visitor, says she has things about Hermione’s school to talk to us and her about, it can’t wait.” He shuffled backwards to let McGonagall in, closing the door behind the woman.

“I’m sure your keys will turn up somewhere. Hermione, living room please,” Valerie replied, calling to the kitchen from the adjacent bathroom. The glittering visitor seemed almost startled when the bushy-haired child swung around into the living room through the hall, turning confusedly on the spot before dismissing whatever it was. The lady and Dennis went over to the living room, Ariadne in tow with her cane. They all sat down as introductions were made.

“Valerie, Valerie Granger, pleased to meet you Minerva. This here’s Ariadne, Hermione’s sister, and Hermione herself. You said you had things to discuss?”

“Indeed, yes. I’ll be frank, this will seem absurd, impossible and downright insane to even the most open-minded individual. Hermione is, to put this as delicately as possible, a witch capable of magic.” Dennis erupted into laughter, as did Valerie - but Hermione was quiet and still.

“All right, that’s enough of that. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as magic,” Valerie started, cut off by McGonagall pulling out the wand that had been in her sleeve. She pointed it at the unlit fireplace.

“ _ Incendio _ ,” she said, and to Ariadne’s amazement, red comets sparked from the tip of the wand and lit the fireplace, as the entire family drew back in a mixture of fear and awe.

“Heh- uh- how- how did you do that?” Valerie asked.

“A fairly simple spell,  _ incendio _ .  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” Minerva continued, pointing it toward something on the table - a glass or something, so far as Ariadne could tell. Hermione gasped as it levitated, and Ariadne could see a stream of warbling yellow energy gripping it like a spindly arm with tentacle-like fingers. “Your daughter is capable of these very things and more, with training. I am here to inform you that Hermione is invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, starting in September of next year - and I would warn you, an untrained witch can become a danger to herself quite by accident if it is allowed to develop too far. Hermione dear. Has anything strange ever happened around you, anything you couldn’t explain, but that you somehow knew was you?”

“Haah- I- uh- I mean… sometimes?” Hermione began.

“She turn-turned on my CD player w-with her mind once,” Ariadne offered, still enthralled by the display of colours.

“I couldn’t do it again though,” Hermione quickly pointed out.

“Most expressions of developing magic are entirely involuntary, it is most likely you did it without meaning to. This wand I am holding is a channel, your own will allow you to focus and control your magic.”

“I get my own wand?!” Hermione gasped.

“Yes dear, oh and Mr. Granger, feel free to check that glass for wires. I see you eyeing it over there,” she replied. Their father obliged, passing his hands around the object, before grabbing it and pulling - it resisted, and Ariadne watched the arm warp to pull it back. Once satisfied, Dennis stepped backward.

“I- I need a drink if this is gonna be happening. Magic, okay. Magic,” he muttered.

“Worry not Mr. Granger, you’re not the first to be surprised. While magical ability is more common to the point of near universality among the children of magical parents, non-magical parents occasionally have magical children,” McGonagall assured him.

“So why have we never heard of this? Looks like it’d be damn useful,” Valerie said.

“Unfortunately, not all non-magical individuals are so reasonable - relations between our proverbial worlds have hardly been smooth, so for the safety of both the magical world remains in hiding as per the Statute of Secrecy. I think you three should read this,” Minerva said, pulling out what sounded like a letter and handing it over. The other three huddled around each other, reading it out.

Ariadne thought for a moment. Both her and Hermione were in the same year, and Hermione was getting this letter because it was her 11th - maybe…

“Am-am-a-am-am I -am I a witch too? I can see magic.” she asked, hesitantly. 

“You- you can what?” McGonagall asked, shocked.

“I’m blind, but I can kinda see colours all over the place, not with my eyes though, it’s weird. You have them, Hermione has them, and I do too. Mum and Dad have little bits but nowhere near as much. And I can see the arm thing holding the glass,” Ariadne said, glad to show her proverbial working. “If those are magic, and I have colours too, then I might be a witch too?”

“I- I’d have a note to tell me if there was another magical child born to the family, but if you can see magic…”

“Arm thing?” Hermione asked, quizzically.

“Professor, if I may, Ariadne here was adopted, rescued from a dangerous situation - perhaps however you knew Hermione had… magic didn’t pick her up because of that?” Valerie asked.

“Entirely plausible - Ariadne, same question; has anything unexplained happened around you?”

“I mean I- my colours- I blew up a bunch of mirrors once when I was scared.” They’d been vague on the details of exactly what had happened in the bathroom, but the revelation that their daughters had been assaulted had led to some more protective parents and some severe punishments for the older girls involved.

“That was you?! The school said that was because the fittings were too small and the weather changing had warped the wood!” Dennis exclaimed.

“These colours, you say you can see them in people sometimes? And that you can see the spell I’m casting?” Ariadne nodded. “What happens when I do this?” The arm lowered the glass back and disappeared.

“It went away, was it supposed to?”

“Definitely capable of seeing magic if you could see the very mechanism by which the spell works - that ‘arm,’ as you called it is not in fact visible at all. But I should have been notified of another muggleborn student - Ariadne, if I might ask, when is your birthday?”

“31st of July, ma’am. I’m 11 next year.”

“If you can see your own magical core, expect a letter that day, you should be in the same year as your sister - did your parents ever mention anything like this? It may be that your parents are magical and thus it didn’t pick you up.”

“Didn’t know my parents, ma’am. They died when I was little.” McGonagall drew back, and Ariadne saw even her magic flicker.

“Your- you wouldn’t happen to know your parents’ names would you? I am one of the heads of house at Hogwarts, perhaps they were my students once. Many did die in those days, I’m afraid - there was a war among wizards,” McGonagall lamented, sighing.

“James and Lily, ma’am.” Again, her colours flickered but more violently, and she heard McGonagall fall into her seat with shock and her hands grasped at the leather armrests.

“J-James and Lily?! James and Lily  _ Potter _ ?!” she spluttered incredulously.

“Y-yes-yes ma’am… h-how-how did you know?”

“I… Ariadne… would you please lift your fringe for me?” Confused at the horrified tone of McGonagall’s voice, she complied, as the elder witch inhaled sharply at the sight of the lightning bolt scar which adorned her forehead. “I- You and I have met, but I was under the impression that you were a boy named Harry?”

“Uh, Ariadne is transgender, she was a boy for a long time but she’s a girl now. Why, do you know her?” Dennis explained, worry filling his voice.

“There’s nobody in our world that doesn’t…” McGonagall trailed off. “This will be a shock, Ariadne, but you deserve to know. I mentioned a war just now; you were the one that ended it. A dark wizard, the dark forces’ leader, whose name we do not utter, murdered your mother and father, and tried to kill you. You survived with only that scar, I don’t think even Albus knows how. The curse, the spell he used backfired upon himself and he was destroyed. You, Ariadne Granger, are Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Although I suppose Girl Who Lived is a more appropriate title.” Her voice shook in anger and confusion as the fire went out again and she trailed off.

Ariadne had no words. Her world was upended and shaken before her very senses, as this woman she did not know explained her past. She knew her entire deadname without being told, although her explanation of events contradicted the Dursleys’ account. She thought back to something Terry had said years ago.  _ It looks like the Dursleys never even had legal guardianship of you _ .

“Oh Merlin…” McGonagall murmured. “Mrs. Granger… what was that you said before about her old home?” If Ariadne had thought McGonagall angry before, she hadn’t seen anything yet. This time, her voice was dripping with fury.

“She… the closest word I can use is abused, but that doesn’t cover it. She was beaten, starved, blinded, and neglected in every respect. The bastards kept her in a cupboard. We met her by chance and called child protective services,” Valerie said, shaking. “Oh my- you said you’d met, don’t tell me you-”

“Ariadne,” McGonagall said, stepping over slowly and taking her hands in her own. “My dear Ariadne, I am so sorry. I am so much more sorry now than I have ever been. I was there the night Rubeus flew you from Godric’s Hollow to number 4 Privet Drive.” At that, Hermione gasped. “Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts and among the greatest wizards of our time, told me that the most effective protection you could possibly have was the blood of your relatives.” She took a deep breath as her words became a combination of mournfulness and vengefulness. “I told him. I _ told _ him, that the Dursleys were the worst people I’d ever seen. I knew then that what we were doing was wrong, that this would lead to only pain but I could not see the abject misery it would bring you. Ariadne, I am so,  _ so _ sorry for not doing more to stop that, and I am only glad that these lovely people found you and got you out.”

This day had become overwhelming long before Minerva had gotten to those facts. Ariadne sat, frozen, as her life clicked into sense. Sense she had never needed. She must have been rocking, since Hermione had come over and was now hugging her.

“How are we- Professor how are we to get these things?” Dennis asked, the paper flapping in his hand as he changed the subject. “Half of them aren’t even things you’d find in a halloween shop, much less a stationery store, no offense.” Professor McGonagall sniffed, standing up again.

“Not to worry, Mr. Granger; assuming you do not have plans that can’t be postponed, I will be taking you to acquire them personally - a place called Diagon Alley, hidden from non-magical eyes and where most wizarding trade in England takes place. The school funds muggleborn students’ supplies,” she said, her voice returning to normal, although Ariadne could still see her magic pulsing in fury.

“I’m sure it won’t take too long, and if it does we can always go to the zoo tomorrow,” Valerie said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll try to make sure we don’t take too long.”

“All right then. Let’s go see your wizarding world - one thing though. If Ariadne is… famous in your world? People won’t recognize her will they?” Valerie said, concerned. Minerva exhaled.

“I don’t think we’ll need to worry about that - I didn’t until I asked, and I’ve met her before. No, I don’t believe we will have problems with it. Best not to go telling everyone, Ariadne,” McGonagall said. “If nothing else, a crowd would only slow down this trip.” She shuddered - she hated crowds. Going by how Hermione had started bouncing, she was excited, and once Ariadne’s mind had pushed through the fog of what she’d just been told, she was too.

A smile split across Ariadne’s face. They weren’t just named after greek princesses. They were  _ witches _ . They were going to learn magic next school year. She was going to learn how to make fire and move things with her mind. And if their magical presence had made their house colourful, she could only imagine how kaleidoscopic Hogwarts, a school  _ full _ of magic people, would be.

“Some enthusiasm, I see. Shall we be off? We’d best give you plenty of time for your trip to the zoo, I would say,” McGonagall noted, cheer entering her voice.

“I didn’t see a car out there, we’ll take our car?” Dennis said, standing to see if he could find his keys. McGonagall chuckled.

“Something the two of you will one day learn how to do - I did not drive here, I don’t need to. I used what is called Apparation, it is not dissimilar to the concept of teleportation I believe. It’s the quickest way there and the quickest way back.”

“You can teleport?!” Hermione exclaimed, breaking her bobbing silence.

“In a roundabout sense, yes dear. Fair warning, it is a bit disorienting - many vomit their first times. I suggest you all gather your things and meet back here,” Minerva told them, sitting back down.

“Actually, we were just about ready to go anyway, we were just looking for Dennis’ keys,” Valerie said, standing.

“ _ Accio  _ keys,” Minerva said nonchalantly, as Ariadne watched another hand shoot from her wand and rocket back from within a newspaper, holding a jangling set of keys which she handed to Dennis as Hermione clapped in glee.

“All… right then, I’ll just go lock the door shall I?” said Dennis, hurrying off and returning quickly.

“Now then. If we all just join hands, I’ll have us off. You too, Ariadne,” McGonagall instructed, taking the hands of one of her parents as Ariadne wormed her fingers into Hermione’s, cane in the other. “Again, this will be a bit odd to say the least for your first times. Three. Two. One.”

There was a snap as McGonagall waved her wand in a swift motion, and the world devolved into insane psychedelic shapes around Ariadne and her stomach was thrown through a rollercoaster track.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsure if the overlapping end of last chapter and start of this one works, but hey I liked it so ye. The “arm thing” is based on how an old Playstation game I had of Goblet of Fire depicted Wingardium Leviosa.  
> Absolutely blasted through this one, especially compared to last one. Wasn’t sure if I should have McGonagall discover Ariadne, but I decided to go for it. Let’s get this show on the road!


	8. Curious...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers visit Diagon Alley for the first time, guided by Professor McGonagall - directly after Chapter 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s not really much information on Hermione’s Diagon Alley visit, so hopefully I did an all right job reconstructing it from what little canon there is.  
> I’ve been misspelling McGonagall’s name this whole time xD Note to self, 1 N.

For but a moment, Ariadne’s world swirled with insanity, every colour of the rainbow exploding around her as she was sucked into a space the size of a pinprick and spat back out again. Her stomach felt like she were a ragdoll being thrown around by a toddler, and as soon as her feet met solid ground again, she collapsed on impact. Nausea swept over her but mercifully passed. Hermione hadn’t been so lucky, as Ariadne heard her throw up. All had fallen at the unfamiliar transition save McGonagall, who seemed entirely unphased.

“Huaahahh, holy- Val! Val we just teleported! We just got freaking teleported!” Dennis exclaimed as Valerie retched.

“Eurgh. I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream if I’m honest but that felt realer than a dream, yikes. You do that often?” Valerie asked.

“One becomes accustomed to the experience, but it does put many off. If you would rather not take that again, I can arrange other means of transportation back to your home?” McGonagall waved her wand and Ariadne saw red energy wave over something near Hermione.

“We’d appreciate that, I think.”

“Mhmm,” Hermione hummed, and from the sound of it she was probably having trouble keeping what was left of her breakfast down. Ariadne took in her surroundings - it was a room, not quite the size of the living room but near it, and it was so saturated with magic that she could even tell the corners from one another, instead of the patterns in the house which were largely based on where she and Hermione most traversed. It wasn’t universal though, the table and chairs were more akin to what she was used to at home - centers glowing with muddied colours with the corners dim. She could tell the outline of a window, and a door ahead.

“Where are we?” Ariadne asked in awe.

“We are in the Leaky Cauldron, this is a side room they let people Apparate into. The inn is the main access point for Diagon Alley, which serves as a gateway between the magical and non-magical worlds,” McGonagall clarified. “If young Hermione has regained control of her digestive tract, shall we proceed?” Hermione stood slowly and paused.

“I’m good.”

“In that case, follow me.” Minerva marched out, Hermione and Ariadne eagerly following. While she was able to sense a lot in this intensely magical location, she didn’t want to get caught out and continued her use of her cane. Entering what appeared to be a main room, Ariadne was greeted by what must have been at least a dozen people drinking and laughing, every single one glittering with all the shifting colours of the rainbow. Again the walls were distinct and clear, while the contents were mostly diffused - however, despite this she could still sense almost everything from the sheer amount of magic people who must come through here. They didn’t stay long in this room, quickly turning to the right and through a back door.

“Hogwarts business, Thomas,” McGonagall said to a figure behind the bar as they passed. The courtyard was similarly magical, and not quite as large as the room they’d arrived into - the wall across from them was far more intense, and five bricks were a different colour. She watched as McGonagall turned to them, stepping around what appeared to be a stack of barrels.

“Past this wall is Diagon Alley, take particular note of which specific bricks I tap and the order.” She turned back, pulling out her wand and tapping the five bricks in a clockwise order. Ariadne elected to keep to herself the fact that she could already see the bricks. She and the rest of the family took a startled step back as the entire wall began to shift, bricks rotating and sliding away to form a large opening, beyond which was the most marvellous view Ariadne had ever had.

She could see how the street wound away from them in what was clearly a drunkard’s attempt at a straight line, buildings leaning askew and the street itself lined with unending people, and just like the inn, near all were colourful. She could see boxes, stalls, even the things carried by those people in some degree of detail. Even their clothes were often magic, and Ariadne hadn’t seen anything in this much detail since before she’d first gone blind, not so far as she could remember anyway. Specifics were a tad fuzzy, she had been 3 years old after all. She didn’t even remember what the Dursleys looked like properly anymore, she realized with satisfaction.

“Wow,” Hermione gasped, also looking out upon the street.

“If you wouldn’t mind passing me the letter, Mr. Granger? I forget exactly which books Professor Quirrell required.” There was some fumbling about as the letter was retrieved. “Ah, excellent. That should remain among Flourish and Blotts’ stock last I was informed.” McGonagall stepped over what Ariadne noticed was a small ledge at the archway, quickly followed by an enthusiastic Hermione. Ariadne was next, making sure to step over the bump. She quickly found her cane to be much more of a necessity than she’d initially thought - the colours didn’t communicate the unevenness of the floor very well. But she could sense almost everything else around her, and noted the outlines of children peering into what looked like windows. Their parents followed along, looking around, gasping and jumping at strange sights.

Ariadne and Hermione were just the same - Ariadne found that magical objects were fairly distinct in their shapes, seeing the outlines of people’s purchases. They went past a group who seemed to have purchased a broomstick, and were gushing about how it was the “fastest broom ever.” Even some of the signs were magical, including what looked like a pair of scissors animated to chop away infinitely. One or two even had open doors, and Ariadne was able to catch glimpses of what was inside - alas, the show windows were useless to her. Magical jewelry hung on shelves, some even had twirling solar systems hanging from earrings. A store which McGonagall told them was for “Quidditch” supplies, whatever that was, had several shaking spheres chained into shelves, their energies red and angry looking. Everywhere she ‘looked’ were glowing baubles and objects, someone even had what looked like a magical guitar. Obviously enchanted necklaces and earrings helped Ariadne tell exactly where people were as they parted for the imposing elder witch leading the group, some sighing in exaggerated pity at the blind girl in their midst. She set her jaw and ignored those ones.

Many seemed to actually recognize McGonagall - one person even ran up and briefly spoke with her, evidently an old pupil who’d been employed in some sort of position as an “advanced transfiguration consultant.” While proud, McGonagall told them she was busy and would be happy to catch up later.

“Here we are, Flourish and Blotts.” Ariadne heard Hermione inhale and sensed her colours start jumping up and down. From that alone, Ariadne would have known it was a bookstore even if she couldn’t see the shapes of the tomes adorning shelves, some even piled in heaps. There was a staircase to their left, and Hermione had begun waving her hands at the sight. “Ah, I see this one will do readings when told to.”

“When told to? Professor, Hermione devoured the contents of her school library then went back for seconds. And if it weren’t for her blindness, I expect Ariadne would have followed suit,” Dennis said. 

“I’m going to like these ones,” McGonagall whispered, facing away. Ariadne suspected it wasn’t meant to be heard, but she had good ears. True enough, Ariadne too was grinning in glee. Hermione had read many of those books aloud to her, and she had chosen some of them herself. Hermione had begun strolling the shelves, seeming to be tilting her head while she read the names on the spines. Ariadne followed as McGonagall went to find the required books.

“Oh no,” Hermione said after a bit.

“What?” Ariadne asked.

“I don’t know if the Dewey system will apply to most of these.”

\--

After nearly 15 minutes of trying to drag Hermione away from books like  _ An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe _ ,  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard _ and  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ , the latter of which McGonagall reminded her they’d purchased a copy of that she could resume reading when they were done, the troupe departed for a shop called Madam Malkins’, books in hand.

“Is there an exchange rate between magical and non-magical money? Can’t say I understood all that about galleons and sickles but it’d be good to look into later,” Dennis asked.

“Indeed, I believe there is. I don’t recall the exact rate between the Pound and sickles but I’m sure we can enquire at Gringotts’ about it,” McGonagall replied. “Gringotts’ is a wizarding bank, at the end of the street there,” she clarified, pointing. “Given her identity, I’d imagine young Ariadne has quite the inheritance waiting for her in the vaults.”

“I-in-inhe-inheritance?!” Ariadne exclaimed. The idea that she had her own money was nice, although it immediately took on a bittersweet taste when she realized it was because her blood parents were dead.

“Yes dear. We cannot however retrieve any of it today, I would need to speak to Albus and Rubeus about it - our groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid has the key, I believe.”

“Woah…” Ariadne said, letting that sink in. Sure, it would all be in galleons and sickles or whatever the magic money was, but it was certainly something.

“All right, here we can get your school robes. Don’t worry, as far as I’m aware we use the same sizing systems that the rest of Britain does.

“About those, Professor, we were hoping to acquire Ariadne’s school supplies as well if possible? If only for efficiency’s sake, since she’s just waiting for her letter on her birthday. We might as well,” Valerie piped up. McGonagall paused.

“I can see why that would make sense, yes. Fair enough, we’ll do both. I don’t believe Flourish and Blotts sells books accessible to blind witches and wizards, unfortunately. While we may have our strengths, I cannot promise excellent progress among our world.”

“Thought as much, braille books aren’t cheap in our system either,” Dennis said. “But I presume everything else on the list shouldn’t be a problem for her?”

“The telescope may be a bit redundant, I will have to speak to Professor Sinistra about how Ariadne will complete some of her Astronomy exams. It’s a class unfortunately dependent on visual acuity. Everything else however, I don’t see a problem with so long as she has some assistance with, say, Potions.”

“Potions? We get to make potions?” Hermione asked. Valerie laughed.

“Perhaps not the kind in muggle literature, but yes. Let’s not become distracted, you’ll have plenty of time to study later. So, Ariadne’s as well, I should have the money on me,” McGonagall said. “Oh worry not, Hogwarts and the Ministry cover this, much like a scholarship of sorts,” she clarified, at what Ariadne expected must have been a concerned look from the parents at having her spend her own money on it.

“All right then, uniforms. You guys wear robes to school?”

\--

After acquiring the uniforms, which Ariadne had found warmer than any of her primary school ones, as well as their various other supplies like cauldrons and vials, they found only one item not ticked off; the wands.

“We will be purchasing your wands from Ollivanders’, while there are other wand shops on Diagon Alley, Ollivanders’ is typically the more trusted,” McGonagall explained, as Hermione clapped excitedly. “The wand chooses the witch, but a wand that does not wish to bind itself to the wielder may cause… fireworks. For that reason, I’ll escort each of you one at a time so nobody gets hurt. Hermione, you first.” At the affirming hums of the parents, McGonagall took Hermione in, leaving Ariadne’s senses as the door closed.

“You doing okay kiddo? Some of what she told you was pretty intense,” Dennis said, after a pause. Ariadne hummed an uncertain tone, wiggling her hand. She’d been distracted from it for much of the day. On one hand, she knew the news that her blood parents had been murdered by an evil wizard should make her sad, but on the other, she’d never known them. It didn’t have the same impact as if, say, her current parents were killed by an evil wizard. The sadness was distant, as if she’d heard of a stranger being killed.

And she had to admit to herself, she was relieved. The Dursleys’ story of how her parents had died had been far less flattering, that her father had been a drunk and that the two had died in a car crash. Them having died fighting an evil wizard to save her was validating in a strange way.

Hermione didn’t take long, and came out holding a long thin box - it had a reddish glimmer to parts of it, and Hermione’s own colours were bubbling in joy.

“Ari! It’s got dragon heart string in it!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, wands have a core component - dragon heart string is but one of many materials used. Now then, if you’ll come with me young Ariadne.” McGonagall gently took her shoulder, and giving her mum her books, Ariadne set about waving her cane ahead to check for bumps.

Ollivanders’ was perhaps the most intensely magical place she’d ever been, even today. The place was mostly shelves, with boxes lining all, with a desk in front of her. A man with silvery, wafty magic slid down a ladder and stood to the table.

“And this would be Ariadne, yes?” he asked.

“Indeed. Ariadne, this is Ollivander,” McGonagall replied curtly.

“Pleased to meet you young lady. Right then, let’s see…” The man hovered into the shelves a bit, before pulling a box from it. He opened it, pulling from it a long, perfectly straight rod of light - silver was this one’s colour. He handed it to Ariadne. She held it, looking at the silver oscillate. “Well go on, give it a wave,” he said. Feeling a fool, she waved it to her right. She watched as a green and red burst of light projected in a cone from its tip, as boxes tipped from the shelves without bidding. She jumped, as her heart jumped into her mouth. She hurriedly felt for the desk and put the wand down.

“Apparently not,” Ollivander said. He puttered about for a bit before procuring another - this one was red like Hermione’s must have been. “Perhaps, this?” Ariadne took it and pointed it behind the counter a ways - a bolt of orange flitted forward and her ears filled with the cacophonous shattering of glass as she again almost threw the offending piece of wood onto the desk.

“No, no,  _ definitely _ not!”

“Mr. Ollivander, if I may. I have an idea,” McGonagall said. She leant down to Ariadne’s ear. “Would you mind if I revealed your identity to him? I have, for lack of a better term, a hunch.” Ariadne nodded. She felt McGonagall’s hand gently brush up the right of her forehead, lifting her fringe. Ollivander took a step back.

“Merlin’s beard,” he whispered.

“Perhaps…  _ that _ wand.”

“I wondered when I’d be seeing  _ you _ , Miss? Potter,” Ollivander declared, curiously.

“G-g-gra-Granger,” Ariadne said under her breath.

“Miss Granger then. Seems only yesterday that your mother and father were here buying their first wands. Let’s see…” Ollivander again retreated amongst the shelves, for longer this time. He came back, bearing a golden tinged box and a rod of golden light. This time, he did not remain behind his counter, coming out past it beside McGonagall. He gingerly handed Ariadne this wand, and as she took it in her hand, golden light began flowing through the room, mingling with her own colours and producing waves of red, purple and gold. She heard wind blow around her, as her hair flew about wildly.

“Curious…” Ollivander said. “Very curious.”

“Sir, w-what-what’s curious?” Ariadne stammered. Ollivander took the wand back briefly, putting it back in its case and handing it back.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Miss Granger. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother… gave you that scar,” Ollivander recounted, seriousness filling his voice.

“A-a-and the bad-bad wizard, did he own that wand?”

“The wand chooses the wizard, Miss Granger. It’s not always clear why. But, I think it  _ is _ clear is that we can expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things; terrible, yes. But great.” Ollivander retreated back to his desk. “Should you wish to know its details, your wand is an even eleven inches long, made from holly, and as I said, contains a phoenix feather core. I wish you the best of luck, Miss Granger; luck I do hope you shall not need.”

\--

“Before we depart, do any of you have any questions?” McGonagall asked as they began to leave the vicinity of Ollivanders’. Ariadne heard Valerie inhale to ask something, but Hermione got in first.

“Is there a library here?” Dennis facepalmed as Ariadne heard McGonagall laugh.

“I’m sure there must be. Shall we look for it before we leave?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Dennis said.

The group searched around for a while, and for once Ariadne felt useful in doing so - she could sense some signs, and given that some were in the shapes of products, perhaps there’d be a big animated book or something. About twenty minutes later, Hermione gave an excited sound as they approached the London Wizarding Public Library. Much like Flourish and Blotts, the place was filled with books but not as messily - to Hermione’s relief it was well organized, even if she had yet to memorize its system. While the girls explored, the parents took the time to speak with the professor.

Eventually, Hermione had chosen a book she wanted to get out - it had been one of over a dozen she’d expressed interest in, but this one had come out on top.

_ Hogwarts: A History _ .

To Hermione’s amusement, the Wizarding Public Library fell under the same public library system as the rest of London, and she was glad to find that her library card would suffice. The family left piled with books, cauldrons and clothes, all wrapped in brown paper, making their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Should you wish to return here, for whatever reason, the Leaky Cauldron serves as the doorway between Diagon Alley and the rest of London on Charing Cross Road.” They opened the door, passing another magical person, to a busy street.

“I’m guessing I never saw this place because of magic?” Dennis asked, looking back at it.

“Yes, it was previously visible to muggles but after the establishment of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692 it was rendered invisible to them. We will be taking some wizarding public transport back to your home - the Knight Bus.” Indeed, Ariadne could see the odd oscillating colours that marked the outside of the building. Minerva looked around quickly, before pulling her wand from her sleeve and holding it out toward the street. There was a loud  _ bang _ as purple and orange light filled Ariadne’s magic sense, and what appeared to be a disproportionately tall bus screeched to a stop.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having some fun! I looked up Flourish and Blotts to check if any of the textbooks weren’t canonically stocked and noted that Hogwarts: A History wasn’t canonically sold there - because Hermione canonically read it before school, I added a library for her. The girls can have a magical library, as a treat :) Yes, Hermione is DEFINITELY going to devour the entire literary content of the London Wizarding Public Library and bring Ariadne along for the ride.  
> I might get a little bit slower writing this now that uni is about to get back going (back at campus, yay for living in New Zealand and actually being safe), but I shall continue!


	9. New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione and Ariadne know they’re witches for a full year before Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No wonder Hermione’d studied so much, she had a whole year, unlike movie!Harry who seems to go straight from Diagon to Platform 9 ¾. Our usual time skipping chapter, scenes over time - starting about a month after the end of chapter 8!

**31st October, 2000**

“What if we get caught?!” Hermione exclaimed, her stifled laughter betraying her true thoughts on the matter.

“We won’t get caught! Come on, it’ll be fun,” Ariadne replied. “The only people who’d notice are other witches and wizards, anyone else will think we made it up. We wouldn’t be wearing the whole uniform anyway, just the cloak and hat.”

Halloween was fast approaching, and after the girls had for the first time in years demanded they go trick or treating, their parents had relented. Ariadne was enamoured with the idea of going as witches… using parts of their uniforms. Hermione, needless to say, was paranoid about the idea. The concern of accidentally summoning the Knight Bus was one Ariadne had had trouble dispelling, since she had wanted to bring their wands. However, when she’d mentioned it with their mum around, Valerie had put her foot down. “Magic stays at home or at Diagon, your wands are either in their boxes or being practiced with,” she had said. Hermione had found and washed the straightest sticks she could find among the hedges and suggested those as substitutes. Now it had come to the night though, she was worried.

“Ugh, fine,” Hermione said, donning her pointed Hogwarts hat and jogging up the stairs. Ariadne too returned to her room and dug the uniform out of the closet. She would wear the cloak, the hat and the skirt, while wearing a jacket and shirt she’d borrowed from their mum - it was a size or two too big on her, but it looked witchy on her according to Hermione. The texture of the jacket sent spikes up her nerves and she could still feel it half a minute after picking it up briefly, so after a bit of mind-wracking to remember where she’d put them, she pulled on the dragon-leather gloves they’d also bought to keep her wrists and fingers from brushing against the offending fabric. The cloak however was a much nicer texture and she found herself occasionally tangling her fingers in its folds. Doing up the straps of her shoes, she gave her long socks a final tug before once more taking up her cane and her novelty pumpkin shaped plastic bucket. It had been a brief logistic annoyance that she couldn’t bring the fake wand Hermione had made, but she only had two hands. Patting around her bed for it, she found and tugged on the conical hat - it didn’t have a brim which seemed wrong to her, but nobody could say it didn’t look real if it was.

Satisfied, she swung the bucket up onto her elbow and veritably danced from the room, humming in excitement.

\--

As the lingering dimness of the setting sun disappeared and was replaced with total darkness within Ariadne’s limited sense of light, Valerie had decided that it was time to go home. Calls of “trick or treat!” lingered ringing through her mind, and her bucket of sweets and chocolate hung heavy from her tired fingers. Occasionally she swapped hands with her cane to rest, and the swaps were becoming more frequent as they approached home, both hands now tired. They had seen only a few magical people, but none at home distributing sweets - it was however the most witches and wizards Ariadne had ever sensed outside of Diagon Alley. Wizards, it seemed, liked Halloween and according to Hermione had had some of the more elaborate costumes. Once Ariadne had briefly terrified the family by immediately admitting to a witch who pointedly asked that she had gotten her hat at Diagon Alley, having forgotten that they couldn’t tell witches and wizards from muggles by sight alone. They’d spoken briefly, and apparently the holiday was more popular among muggleborn wizards than “hoity-toity rich purebloods.” Ariadne had wondered idly if her birth parents had been “hoity-toity rich purebloods” - McGonagall hadn’t specified the quantity of her inheritance, but it sounded like it had been large. But then, if Lily had been Petunia’s sister, it was probably the case that their parents had both been muggles and so Lily at least would have been ‘half-blood,’ like the witch had described herself as. 

Ariadne had to admit, many of the words used by wizarding society to refer to non-magical people didn’t sit well with her, an odd focus on blood purity combined with demeaning non-magical people. At the very least, “muggle” didn’t sound very nice to her, even less so the word “squib” that she and Hermione had read; children without magic born to magical parents. She could see that it wasn’t that simple; she and Hermione’s parents didn’t have magic, but they had tiny flecks of it amongst them, as if the potential had been passed down but never realized in them before later manifesting in Hermione.

But tonight had been fun, so she dismissed her concerns of blood purism related bigotry among the wizarding world and brought herself back to reality. Once home, she and Hermione retired to her bedroom, where they haphazardly tossed their full buckets onto the bed and Hermione fetched her latest library book;  _ Flesh-Eating Trees of the World _ . Valerie had bemusedly noted that it was an advanced textbook for later year Herbology classes at Hogwarts, but Hermione was interested anyway. Much of it relied on prior knowledge and they skipped over various exercise sections, but they were able to follow along fairly well while downing far too many sweets for their parents’ approval. They’d been told to go easy on them and save some for later, but Ariadne had scoffed almost all of hers and subsequently felt bloated. Hermione on the other hand sounded like she was far too concerned with preventing any sticky sugar or caramel from adhering itself to the pages from her fingers and had barely touched hers.

\--

**February, 2001**

With the new year dawning and Hogwarts drawing ever nearer, Hermione had dug out two books from their study material to focus on in particular for basic magic -  _ Magical Theory _ and  _ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _ . For near a month, the two had been practicing the short list of spells permitted to students outside of school. And it was a short list indeed, with only a handful making the list. Unfortunately for Ariadne, most were visual or required sight. Hermione had said that her  _ Lumos _ spell needed some work but that she’d caught on to its base concepts fairly quickly.  _ Reparo _ had been harder. Not knowing where objects where nor how many pieces they were in had led to dozens of failed attempts, partial repairs and the occasional incorrect one. They’d been practicing on torn paper and snapped twigs mostly. Today however, Ariadne had been sharply broken from her recorded revision of English by the sound of a shattering mug in the kitchen.

She quickly grabbed her cane and found her way to the kitchen, where she found her mother and Hermione standing. Hermione had her wand out.

“Okay, is that broken enough?” Valerie asked, clearly confused.

“Yep, thanks Mum,” Hermione said.

“And you can fix it, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best. Oh hi Ariadne! Sorry if we frightened you.” Hermione turned suddenly. “Just trying  _ reparo _ on something else for a change.” Ariadne stood in the doorway, tilting her head to the side and ‘watching’ as best she could. The mug was Hermione’s, so some of its pieces were gently outlined by magic residue. Hermione stood, pointing her wand methodically as always and inhaled.

“ _ Reparo _ .” Gold and green light flowed from Hermione’s wand in Ariadne’s vision, the shattered mug briefly illuminated clearly as tendrils grabbed its parts and welded them together.

“Woah!” Valerie leant down as the light faded back into the wand, picking up the mug. “It’s like we never broke it!” Hermione, however, sounded less enthusiastic.

“It’s got seams in it, look,” she said, stepping over.

“What? I can’t see anything. You’re worrying too much Hermione, you’re doing great!” The young girl mumbled a begrudging agreement, refusing to see her work as good. “Do you want to try, ‘Adne? We must have another old glass or mug in here somewhere.” Ariadne drew back slightly.

“Uh,” she started. “I, uh…” She had yet to properly master repairing sheets of paper, let alone a whole mug. Hermione came over.

“Hey, I know you’re having trouble with that one, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” she said, taking one hand. Bowing both to peer pressure and the test of her skills, she nodded.

“Let’s try it,” Ariadne said.

“I’ll find a mug nobody’s used in ages and break it for you, okay? You go grab your wand,” Hermione replied, turning to the cupboard and reaching through it. Hesitantly, Ariadne went back to her room and found her wand in its box as there was another shattering noise. As she returned, Hermione piped up.

“It broke into more pieces than I wanted it to, sorry. I know little bits can be a hard time,” she said, tapping her knuckle anxiously.

“That’s okay.” Ariadne knelt down, feeling gently for the pieces - she didn’t want to cut herself, but she needed to at least know approximately how many pieces there were and where. This one hadn’t been used in ages, and didn’t have the residue Hermione’s subject had. Satisfied after finding three large chunks and five or six smaller ones, she stood back up and pointed her wand.

“ _ Reparo _ .” She concentrated as the green and yellow tendrils extended forward, hoping she wasn’t missing any pieces. Similarly to Hermione, she methodically stitched each piece together rather than trying to do it all at once. As the final piece locked in, both her mother and sister started clapping.

“Nicely done, Ariadne!” Valerie cheered. “It’s got some visible seams, but uh..” she tapped it against the sink a bit. “It seems solid.” Ariadne heard the tap come on and the mug get filled. “Hey, and it’s watertight! Well done!” Her heart, which had sunk upon news that the seams were visible rose once more in the knowledge that while it wasn’t perfect, it was functional. “Here, give that a feel.” Valerie pressed the newly repaired mug into Ariadne’s hands. The joins were rough to the touch, strangely as if the ceramic had been scratched and worn extensively, but they were solid.

“Ooo, well done ‘Adne!” Dennis said, stepping in from the doorway where he’d been standing. “Might use this one more often eh, field test it for you. Needed a cup of tea anyway, may I?” Ariadne gave him the mug, which he took to the bench and set the kettle to boil. “Speaking of magic though, can you please get rid of that fire in a jar, Hermione? Gives me a heart attack every time I go past your room.”

“It’s only a Bluebell Flame dad, it won’t catch anything on fire. It can’t!” Hermione protested.

“The flammability of it isn’t the problem, I don’t want to walk past an actual fire in there and think it’s your jar! Your grandparents are coming over in a couple days anyway, I ain’t explaining that their granddaughters are witches to them. It was hard enough convincing them to stop being assholes over Ariadne being trans, I tell them you’re witches and they’ll want to crucify you. Statute of Secrecy, remember, like that Professor said. It’s very pretty, but don’t leave fires in jars around.” Ariadne winced at the reminder of their grandparents. Their grandfather on Dennis’ side had refused to stop calling her by her deadname for well over a year, so she was wary of them to start with.

“But I’m trying to make them last longer! The book says a good length is a week-” Hermione continued.

“No buts, Hermione, get rid of the fire jar. If you absolutely must, once your grandparents have been you can make another one and put it on the mantle where we can keep an eye on it. No, what was it, blue bell fires in your bedroom.”

\--

**July 31st, 2001**

“ _ What kind of magic spell to use? Slime and snails? Or puppy dogs’ tails? Thunder or lightning? _ ” Ariadne cheerfully sang as Hermione giggled. It was after school on her 11th birthday, as well as the fourth time they’d rewatched Jim Henson’s  _ Labyrinth _ . After several watches with Hermione explaining what was happening on screen, Ariadne kind of knew what was happening - although Hermione had been utterly unable to explain the furry red creatures which had been removing their own heads and limbs until the third attempt for she was laughing so much. As the music got quieter to what Ariadne remembered was Sarah drawing on the labyrinth floor - and a goblin calling her mother an aardvark as he removed it - there was a tapping noise Ariadne didn’t remember.

“What was that?” Hermione asked. Not part of the movie then. Ariadne turned her head a bit as it happened again, louder this time. “Oh!” Hermione gasped and shot up from the couch. “It’s an owl!” Hermione ran over to the window and opened it as their mum spluttered. Unlike most animals, Ariadne could see a small bit of magic to this one, mostly around its head. A magical owl knocking on the window on her birthday meant only one thing.

Her Hogwarts letter. The owl chirruped happily as Hermione took its delivery and gave it a gentle scratch on the head before it lifted back off out of the window.

“To Ariadne Granger!” Hermione announced. “Should I read it for you?”

“Yes please!” Ariadne replied, sitting up straight. Hermione tore open the envelope and unfolded it.

“Ahem.  _ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederacy of Wizards. _ ” Hermione read out. “ _ Dear Ms. Granger. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on the first of September. Yours sincerely, _ signed _ Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress _ .”

\--

That weekend, Ariadne and Hermione took the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley, armed with £50 granted to Ariadne for her birthday - Stepping off the nauseatingly violent purple bus and into the Leaky Cauldron, the two made their now familiar way to the back door, sweeping it for bags and moved chairs ahead of her. Closing the door behind them, Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped the five bricks in succession. The wall rumbled open as always, revealing the familiar Diagon Alley. It wasn’t a place Ariadne enjoyed quite as much as she had the first time, overwhelmed with the promises of magic. Now, it was familiar enough to simply be another street, if bright with colours and easier to navigate. And among such things were the presence of far too many people for Ariadne or Hermione’s liking, and they walked quickly down the street toward their goal; Gringotts’. They were familiar with the process of converting Pounds into Galleons, which were approximately 5 pounds generally. The exchange rates varied a lot.

Stepping over the crooked columned threshold, the two quickly found their way into the queue for the right counter. Ariadne liked Gringotts, it was filled with strange magic linking various objects and strange symbols between them. Almost like an internet network of computers, all points in the web save for very few were linked in some way to what appeared to be a giant chandelier above them.

The goblins who worked there were interesting too. While they had noticed that many of the witches and wizards treated and spoke of the goblins somewhat poorly to say the least, the girls liked them. The goblins must not have been used to such polite treatment rather than veiled platitudes and insults, since many they’d never met would often greet them by name, and on occasion they’d chatted with one on his break - Talmek had quickly caught on to the more tolerant attitude of the two witches and their parents, and explained that goblins were both legally and socially considered lesser than wizards among magical human society, with a far from cordial history. Added to what Ariadne had heard of the epidemic of blood purist rhetoric among wizards, she was starting to be glad she had come from a non-magical background. It wasn’t as if non-magical culture was free of such things itself, but the wizarding world had some catching up to do - both had been horrified to learn that the Ministry’s Goblin Liaison Office fell under the jurisdiction of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They had been interested to learn of the cultural differences between goblins and wizards from a source not written by a 15th century bigoted human, and how due to being a largely craft-based society, goblin concepts of ownership were based on creation, not purchase. Goblins had not taken the effective role of accountants for wizards by choice, they had been commissioned to mint currency due to their skill and then pressed into the role. Inevitably, the wizards had then branded them greedy and hungry for wealth, an image goblins resented.

As the queue reached them, it was the familiar goblin Talmek who sat there. Goblin magic was a strange sight for Ariadne, as it was more refined and controlled than human magic. Their colours would ever shift from hue to hue based on their activity and usage, and it was fascinating to watch them levitate objects in visually much the same way as McGonagall had lifted the glass on their table but without the need for a wand.

“Ah, Mses Granger, how lovely to see you two again. No parents today I see?”

“Hey Talmek! Mum and dad are busy, but they said we could come on our own. It was Ariadne’s birthday the other day so we’ve come to do some shopping with her birthday money!” Hermione said, tapping her knuckle in anxiety as Ariadne fiddled with the handle of her cane.

“Oh excellent, happy birthday young lady. You must come by next year if you can fit it in with Hogwarts, I’ll make you something. But anyway, one must retain some image of professionalism, I assume you’re here to convert your money from British Pounds to Galleons?”

“Y-yes sir, I bel-believe that’s fifty pou-pounds,” Ariadne replied, smiling as she pulled out the notes and placed them on the table. They’d often spoken with Talmek more casually, but never while he was working and she felt that they were holding up the line.

“Fifty pounds…” Talmek said to himself, tracing shapes onto a tablet in front of him and stashing away the notes, magic extending forth in green. “As of current exchange rates, that’d be nine galleons, fourteen sickles and twelve knuts,” he said, filling a pouch and handing it back. “As always, good to see you two. Next please!”

“Thanks Talmek!” the two called back as they shuffled away from the counter to make way for the huffing wizard behind them. They had a singular goal, as they had since arriving. They’d realized not long after McGonagall’s arrival that she had been entirely literal when she’d said that wizards used owls for letter delivery, and while Ariadne could not read, she and Hermione both agreed that they should get the family one as soon as possible for the purposes of communicating with their parents from Hogwarts, and their parents had agreed to it. Eeylops’ Owl Emporium wasn’t far, and they shortly found themselves speaking with a staff member on the subject. In the end, the pair chose what Ariadne was told was a white barn owl with brown markings. She couldn’t see his colourings, but she could see a magical aura to him. With Hermione carefully carrying the cage, and the expenses for the owl himself and the items for his care coming to most of the money Ariadne had (including a small amount of sickles and knuts left over from previous pocket money), the two made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron and out to Charing Cross. Covertly, Ariadne held out her wand to summon the Knight Bus, and they were off. They’d already named the owl before they got back - they had both liked the idea of continuing their greek myth namesakes, and had chosen Hermes - the messenger of the Olympian gods.

In the months to come, Valerie had often accused Ariadne of “spoiling that bird rotten,” noting how frequently he would go to Ariadne over anyone else. It was true, Ariadne fed Hermes a little more than had been perhaps recommended. And it was more often treats than normal food.  _ All right _ , she admitted to herself,  _ I’m spoiling the damn bird, so what? He’s a good bird and he’s been pretty reliable so far _ . He hadn’t been employed for letter delivery much, but she and Hermione had penned a few letters to McGonagall with questions regarding Hogwarts’ accommodation of blind students. They hadn’t received much back, only that efforts would be undertaken to assist Ariadne. Then again, with the term most likely in full swing, they didn’t expect much from a busy deputy headmistress.

\--

**September 1st, 2001**

The day had come. Ariadne and Hermione had anxiously packed well over a week in advance, continually adding and removing things as they questioned whether they were so necessary so as to take up the space. Hermione had had trouble closing her trunk - she hadn’t questioned things anywhere near as much and while their books were distributed between their luggage, she’d packed far more than perhaps she needed. Hauling the trunk from her room just down the stairs to the hall had been hard enough, let alone to the car. After the significant effort of squeezing both trunks into the boot, they piled into the car - Hermes’ cage was nestled between Ariadne and Hermione, who held it as still as she could. Many of their other items that didn’t fit, such as the cauldrons, were with them in the car too, tucked into footwells.

Dennis climbed into the drivers’ seat of the people-mover and turned the key, setting it into reverse.

“Next stop: King’s Cross Station.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. I haven’t actually gone trick or treating before so catch me ducking out and not writing it xD  
> Yeah, the antisemitic way JK Rowling wrote goblins REALLY doesn’t sit well with me (I mean even HAGRID refers to them as beasts) and while I as someone who isn’t jewish can’t claim to have done well I do hope I can write a version of them that’s less problematic. As always, if I’m doing a bad job, tell me!


	10. Platform 9 ¾

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ariadne board the Hogwarts Express, and make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s get this train on track! Choo choo!

“Okay. There’s Platform Ten. There’s Platform Nine. No Nine and Three Quarters though,” Dennis said, stopping as the family trundled along, trolleys covered in trunks and packages. While Dennis seemed to doubt the existence of Platform 9 ¾, Ariadne could see that there was a lot more magic in here than in other non-magical public transport hubs she’d been to - it was definitely a location with heightened magical traffic. “Nothing about it in any of those books you read?”

“N-nnn-noth-nothing. The b- the b- th..  _ The books _ were written assuming the read-reader already knew,” Ariadne replied, pushing through a particularly bad stammer catch. Such packed spaces filled with noises and such unpredictable people set off a number of anxieties - someone ran straight past her, apologizing briefly as she jumped.

“Not about its location anyway - it was mentioned in _ Hogwarts: A History _ that it had been built as a secret addition to King’s Cross, but nothing about how,” Hermione added.

“Shame those letters didn’t come with instructions. Excuse me!” Valerie said, before calling to another grey figure. “Excuse us, but could you tell us where we might find Platform Nine and Three Quarters?” she asked of the individual, who must have been a staff member.

“Nine and Three Quarters? Sure, right next to the unicorn booth and the fairy castle,” he retorted, before shuffling off. “Nine and Three Quarters, come on. Third time this morning!” he muttered.

Ariadne’s brief panic at her mother’s flouting of the Statute of Secrecy, as well as the hostility of the grey figure, was however stifled by a pack of six coloured figures - they mostly shared a common theme of yellow and blue, with flecks of red within - walking past the column and the woman at the head of the group calling “It’s the same every year, packed with Muggles of course. Come on! Platform Nine and Three Quarters this way!” Without pause, Ariadne began to quickly follow the group, hoping her use of the trundling trolley as a surrogate cane would suffice.

“Where are you- oh come on,” Dennis spluttered as the ordinarily meek child took control. They soon stopped behind the group, who had also come to a stop.

“All right Percy, you first,” said the woman as she seemed to wave one of the children - whose colours were dominantly red and yellow - stepped forward with a trolley. Inside a cage on top was an owl, with similarly head-focused colours as Hermes did in his own perch at the front of Ariadne’s trolley. After the boy called Percy had come past his mother, to Ariadne’s confusion he picked up speed toward what Ariadne could see as a solidly magical wall… before passing straight through it and disappearing.

“I think we found the platform,” Dennis said, as Ariadne almost tried to call out and stop the boy from running into it.

“Fred, you next!” the woman called.

“He’s not Fred, I am!” came the indignant cry of one of the near identical, taller children. Their colours were both a rotating conglomeration of blue and yellow, however one rotated counter-clockwise and the other clockwise - evidently, the clockwise boy was not Fred.

“Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother,” said the clockwise Fred, who to Ariadne’s surprise sounded identical to his companion.

“Ohh, sorry George.” George stepped up finally, no owl to his nor any of the other children’s trolleys, pausing as he reached his mother.

“I’m only joking; I am Fred!” Fred exclaimed, before he too ran after Percy, the actual George following in quick succession.

“That is unnerving to watch,” Dennis said, shuddering. He stepped forward. “Excuse us, could you, uh. Could you explain to these two how this all works?” he asked, seeming to gesture toward Ariadne and Hermione. Ariadne waved half-heartedly.

“Oh! How to get onto the platform?” the woman gently chuckled. “Not to worry dears, it’s Ron’s first time to Hogwarts as well. Now all you’ve got to do, is walk straight at the wall between platforms Nine and Ten.” Ariadne stepped forward, pushing her trolley along. “Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.” She gently patted Ariadne’s shoulder, which she tried not to jump at.

“M-mmm-may-maybe not,” Ariadne said, pointing vaguely toward her eyes, which solicited a slight gasp from the woman. Ariadne turned to her parents, offering her arms. Valerie was the first to hug her.

“Ohh, we’ll miss you, princess. Both of you, come here you,” she said, pulling Hermione over as well. After a second or two, Valerie detached from them and Dennis took her place for a moment.

“You two enjoy yourselves. Learn lots! I want to hear all about what you get up to, you make sure Hermione writes, ‘Adne.” Dennis said.

“Yes, do. Love you girls, have fun! Be safe!” Valerie said, as Ariadne turned back to her trolley. Making sure the bar was pressed fully down so as to not suddenly brake on approach, she began hesitantly stepping forward. 

“Good luck,” said the remaining child simply; she hadn’t gone through and she didn’t seem to have a trolley - too young, Ariadne wondered.

She took a deep breath as the trolley and Hermes, and inevitably she herself passed through the wall. There was a sucking sound as wind blew her hair about, but her feet never left solid ground. She simply found herself, after a second or so, on the other side of a wall. Around her was solid magic, of ever shifting colours, but strange somehow. It was almost as if the platform had been folded in on itself, but yet not. As Hermione popped through, Ariadne stepped toward the platform itself, and what a platform it was. Adorned with bedazzling colours both people and surfaces alike, the locomotive itself coated with magic and the sounds of steam hissing from its valves. They had read that the Hogwarts Express had always been a steam engine, but she hadn’t quite accepted that it would be one, as if wizarding society would suddenly modernize and replace it with an electric one. As the pair made their way down the line, their luggage shortly being taken by a porter - and Ariadne remembered at the last moment to retrieve her cane from the trolley - Ariadne marvelled at the strange folded feeling the place had, while Hermione echoed the various hissing noises they passed.

“I-I-I think this place is like, squeezed in between Nine and Ten using magic. I’d imagine it all unfolds somewhere down the track, but that must have been weird to make,” Ariadne said, quickly making sure her wand was in her pocket as the train’s horn blew.

\--

Anxiety riddling the two, they’d quickly found an empty compartment in the cramped train and taken their seats. They’d closed the windows in the hallway and inside, as Ariadne hated the windflow. Hermione seemed to be enthralled by the land outside the window - in truth mostly farmland, she told Ariadne, but the two weren’t exactly the most well-travelled They’d been camping in the Forest of Dean once, but that was about the most adventurous they’d been. At the same time however, Ariadne could hear her gently waving one of her hands to the rhythmic sound of the locomotive. Ariadne wasn’t sure if it was because her sister disliked the noise or was treating it similarly to music, but so long as it didn’t bother her too much it was fine. She had to admit, the vibrations through the floor of the carriage were unpleasant to say the least, and so she had been happy to let her legs dangle off the seat, not quite long enough to reach the floor without effort.

The two were pulled from their reverie by a voice and a colourful person peering around the corner - Ariadne had wanted the door open so she could tell if people were there, as she was unable to see through the windows. Hermione however never really felt comfortable with an open door, so Ariadne was sitting between it and her sister.

“Excuse me? D’you mind? Everywhere else is full,” Ron asked forlornly. Ariadne’s mouth fell open slightly in indecision.

“Um. Go ahead,” Hermione said quietly. Ron stepped over, sitting opposite Hermione at the window side seat.

“I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.”

“I’m Ar-Ar-Aria-Ariadne, Ariadne Granger; this is my sister, Hermione,” Ariadne offered, hoping not to make Hermione overwhelm herself at the unexpected interaction.

“So.. so are you blind? Your eyes are all white, it’s wicked,” Ariadne winced at the insensitively followed, if well-intentioned question.

“I- yes, I can’t see anything.” She held up her cane, which rested on the seat beside her. “I can kinda see magic though, so that’s helpful.” Ariadne was distracted by the sound of trundling wheels to her right, as another colourful person stepped into view with what sounded like a cart.

“Anything off the trolley dears?” she asked.

“No thanks, I’m all set,” Ron replied. Ariadne dove her hand into her pocket, as did Hermione - they didn’t have much, but they’d converted their pocket money into wizarding currency before the day they left. Producing what Ariadne estimated between them to be about a galleon and a half and collating it all in Hermione’s hand, Hermione piped up.

“Say, Ron, I’m guessing you’re from a magic family, do you know what’s good on there? We don’t exactly know what… Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans are.”

“Um- you mean you want- you want me to… to pick for you?” Ron asked. “All right, umm, how much can you afford - woah. Okay. How’s about we just get some of everything, you’ve got the money. Couple of Chocolate Frogs, some of the beans, some toffee…”

“Two Chocolate Frogs? What about you, you’ve only got that squashed sandwich?” Hermione asked.

“Me? You sure?”

“Looking at those little price tags, we can afford it. That okay, Ariadne?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” she replied, smiling, happy that they seemed to be making their first wizarding friend.

\--

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans?” Ariadne asked, holding one of the three boxes Ron had selected.

“They  _ mean _ Every Flavour. There’s chocolate and peppermint, and there’s also spinach, liver and tripe,” Ron said, just as Ariadne heard Hermione gag.

“Hurgh! ...Eurgh. Whatever that was it definitely wasn’t peppermint,” Hermione lamented as Ron laughed.

“They’re all different, it’s not just gonna be one big box of horrible. George sweared he got a bogey flavoured one once!”

“Not a fan of unpredictable foods,” Ariadne said quietly, putting down the box of mystery beans.

“They’re not for everyone. Chocolate frog might be a bit unpredictable too, but not in the same way.” Ariadne tilted her head.

“How so?”

“You’ll see. Try it.” Ariadne started filing through the sweets - they’d bought a lot more than she’d realized - looking for something that might be big enough to fit the name ‘Chocolate Frog’.

“This one,” Hermione said, handing it to her. 

“These aren’t real frogs, are they?” she asked.

“Nah it’s just a spell. Besides, it’s the cards you want. Each pack’s got a famous witch or wizard. I’ve got about 500 meself.” Feeling the pentagonal box, she pulled the cord free and lifted the lid. She jumped as damn near immediately a green blob of magic leapt out of it past her face, adhering to the window, ribbuting.

“Uh- H-Hermione?” she said, as the frog climbed up and out of the window while Hermione shot backward in her seat.

“Watch it!” Ron exclaimed. “Aw, it’s rotten luck, they’ve only got one good jump in them to begin with.” Slightly mournful of the escaped chocolate, Ariadne felt for the edge of the pentagonal card and fished it out. While the centre had a magical arch in it, the actual content wasn’t visible to her so she handed it to Hermione.

“Oh, it’s Dumbledore!” she said, tilting the card.

“I’ve got about six of him,” Ron boasted, as Hermione gasped.

“Um. Is he- is he supposed to disappear?”

“Well you can’t expect him to hang around all day, can you?” Ron replied, as if it were obvious. After a brief pause, Ron picked something up from the sweet pile - the discarded but still full Bertie Bott’s box if Ariadne’s ears were true to her - and then produced something from his pocket. It was curious, for it had the colours of a person, but absolutely miniscule. It was squeaking, and from Hermione’s immediate disgusted exclamation and veritable leap back from the creature, it had to be a mouse or rat.

“This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic isn’t he?” Seeming to then see Hermione’s lightly whimpering position as she squeezed her hands, he quickly added “Oh don’t worry, he’s clean as a whistle.” Hermione seemed to relax slightly, but remained as far as she could from the offending rodent. Ron, who seemed to be mistaking Ariadne’s fascinated frown for similar revulsion, continued. “Fred gave me a spell as to turn him yellow. Wanna see?” Ariadne heard Hermione’s bushy hair rub against the seat in a silent nod. Ron produced his wand, which glimmered with the silver of a unicorn tail hair core, and cleared his throat. “Sun-” he began, being cut off by someone with purple and orange magic appearing in the doorway.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but um. Have any of you seen a toad? I’ve lost one.”

“Only a chocolate one, I’m afraid,” Hermione replied. “Do you need any help looking?”

“Nah, I’m um, I’m good. Thanks.” The boy continued along the carriage.

“Let’s see this spell then,” Hermione said, seeming to have overcome her revulsion from Scabbers and regained a sense of cockiness about magic. Ron once again cleared his throat.

“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!” he declared, pointing his wand, as a vague wave of magic spluttered from it, disintegrating as it hit the rat.

“Are you sure that’s a  _ real _ spell? It doesn’t seem to work. Of course, we’ve only tried a few simple spells ourselves, but they’ve all worked for us. For example,” Hermione said, pulling her own wand from her pocket. She took the empty chocolate frog packet and tore the lid in two. “ _ Reparo _ .” As usual, golden tendrils welded the two pieces together flawlessly before Hermione returned her wand to her bag. “It’s getting late; we should probably get changed into our robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon.” Ariadne ducked down to the floor, feeling for the zip on her backpack. “Ugh, we don’t seem to have any curtains. Okay, you, out, we can put our cloaks over the glass.” she said, ordering the boy out and fishing her cloak from her own bag.

“Glass?” Ariadne asked, horror filling her. Getting changed with other people able to see was about her worst nightmare, especially on the way to a new school. While she’d not truly seen anyone in almost a decade, she wasn’t ignorant of the fact that she didn’t exactly have the same kind of body as most other girls - bullies had been quick to remind her of that back at primary school - and was incredibly conscious of it in the moment.

“On the door, yes. Don’t worry, I’m covering it now. Come on you, out,” she said, closing the door and hanging up the cloak over it. “I’ll be here but I’m not looking, promise.”

Ariadne got changed as quickly as she could, cursing the requirement for a tie and eagerly pulled her robe around her as the slight chill began to creep over her. Clearing her throat, she vacated the room to make space for Hermione. Once her sister was done, they left time for Ron, and went back to their talking once Ron had put Scabbers back in his pocket.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch me fuck up and forget which Weasleys have which colours.  
> I imagine my Hermione has a lot more difficulty with people than canon!Hermione - given she was hanging out with Neville and possibly others and is seen studying with others in the movie. My Hermione is a bit more shy, and as such didn’t go hang out with Neville, instead staying with Ariadne. She also *really* doesn’t like rats.


	11. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne senses Hogwarts for the first time, and the girls are sorted into their houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well and truly into Philosophers’ Stone now, mwahahahaha!

The Hogwarts Express slowed to a halt, surprisingly gently given the rocky trundle it had travelled at for much of the trip. Already carrying her satchel and cane, Ariadne stepped into the doorway of the compartment as the doors opened.

“Careful, there’s a pretty big gap,” Hermione said as they stood at the door. This train station was not so inherently magical, and as such she couldn’t see it. Holding onto the door’s handrails, she tentatively stuck her cane out, looking for the edge. Finding it, she retracted the cane and carefully placed her foot there. Solid ground found, still holding the rail, she put her other foot down. Certain she wasn’t about to trip into the gap between train and platform, she let go and got out of the way. Casting her ‘vision’ around, it wasn’t the most magical place she’d ever seen, but it certainly bore the residue of hundreds of magical people walking it every year and she could see the outline of a bench ahead. Far in the distance, obscured by the shadows of what looked like they might be trees, she saw at the boundaries of Hogwarts’ grounds; a series of multicoloured magical borders -  _ Hogwarts: A History _ had mentioned the many-layered wards of Hogwarts, so she thought these might be those. As more and more children poured from the train, all glittering psychedelic colours, she heard a voice boom out from her left, accompanied by a gigantic orange and green figure.

“Right then, first years! This way please! Come on now, first years, don’t be shy! Come on, hurry up!” Gigantic wasn’t an understatement for this man - Ariadne had seen tall wizards before, but this man was a whole new level. Literally. As Ariadne spun toward the voice, the largely yellow figure of Ron jumped out of the train and followed as Ariadne probed her way toward the large figure. It didn’t help how many people kept pushing in front of her, whacking her cane to the side with hushed sorries as they stood unmoving directly in front of her. “Get out’a her way would ya?” the tall man said, and Ariadne heard the kid in front of her shuffle to the side to let her past. Ron, who seemed to have been looking around based on his not entirely vertical stance, straightened as he too stopped.

“Woah,” he gasped.

“Right then, this way to the boats, c’mon then, follow me!” the man said, turning and walking with huge strides away. At the word “boats,” Ariadne was concerned even as she eagerly followed the figure. She didn’t like boats; the only occasion she’d tried the canoes at the camp the school had run for the 10-11 year olds, the unstable shaking had nearly made her sick and had woefully disoriented her. Eventually, she’d been removed from the activity.

This time however, the boats clearly weren’t propelled by oars - if they were, they’d have no cause to be magical, and so far as she could tell there weren’t any oars to begin with. They floated at a small dock, and to Ariadne the ground ended and was replaced with void - water didn’t retain magic residue very well at all, if ever.

“Right, everyone to a boat - not tha’ one, that’s mine, no more than four to one boat! Ya just gotta turn on the lantern and the boat’ll get going. Haven’t had a capsizing in years, not to worry,” the giant figure yelled over the crowd, taking a seat. Then again, Ariadne considered, “years” wasn’t particularly impressive if, as she suspected, they were only used once a year, so she retained her probably unhealthy fear of the boats. Hermione had had far less difficulty with the canoes at camp, so she stepped in first as Ariadne watched her core bob on the wobbling boat. With Hermione’s help, she made her way, hunched over and heart hammering a chaotic drumline the entire time, into the boat and hurriedly sat down, knuckles clenched onto the flat wooden bench for support. Ronald too boarded but with far heavier footfalls than Ariadne was expecting as the boat rocked violently and she shut her eyes instinctively, even if she sensed no less in the pitch darkness of the night, and her knuckles went numb from the force she was squeezing the bench with. The final student, unknown to her with their green and red core, sat down gingerly.

“It’s okay, you’re all right. I’m gonna start the lantern, okay?” Hermione said quietly as she gently held Ariadne’s forearm. She heard her fiddle with the lantern and the magic of the boat took on a different hue, oars she presumed were invisible to everyone else were conjured and began pushing themselves. As the boat floated forward, the castle came into her senses.

The bases of great towers and halls glimmered with muddied colours above what must have been cliffs, with a winding staircase running from what looked like a dock below. Great archways and bridges adorned the structure. While the entire structure wasn’t visible, only the lower levels truly had shape, she could see the outlines of the vast towers with dots of magic scattered all over them. While she had not been able to see it,  _ Hogwarts: A History _ had contained a diagram of the castle, which Hermione had done her best to explain; to her left, she could sense what she knew, based on the towers, to be the Great Hall. However, the amount of stairs up to the castle wasn’t exactly something she enjoyed the thought of. Then again, if they were used by magic people enough, she expected she might not have as much difficulty as if they weren’t.

“Woah…” Ariadne said, gazing all around at the bobbing precession of dozens, possibly more than a hundred, magical cores floating in a wide array along the lake, marvelling at how small they were compared to the castle ahead. She was however also acutely aware of the rocking of the boat, which wasn’t helped by how Ron and the unknown kid were shifting about to get better looks. Doing her best to avoid being sick, she finally found herself able to loosen her grip on the seat, flexing her aching fingers.

\--

Much as Ariadne liked the concept of Hogwarts, she had decided she hated its architect. After dozens of trips and stumbles, they had finally made it to the castle itself only to find  _ more stairs _ . Thankfully, the huge man who’d greeted them had told them they could leave their bags in the entrance and they’d be taken to their dormitories. Upon entering the castle, Hermione’s hand flapping became more frequent, whether for anxiety or excitement - or indeed both - Ariadne did not know. Luckily, the interior stairs appeared to be far more frequently used, and Ariadne could almost forgo the use of her cane while climbing them. After having initially found herself near the back of the column of students, she and Hermione were soon closer to the middle.

Coming around a corner, Ariadne saw, obscured by balustrades, the familiar bottle green of Professor McGonagall at the top of the stairs. As the group came to a halt, she thankfully ceased her probing and stood on a stair.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” McGonagall declared as the final students stopped. “Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats you must be sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you’re here, your House will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points - any rule-breaking and you will lose points,” she continued. Ariadne and Hermione however, were distracted by a gentle croaking noise coming from near her feet as a gentle source of magic sat there. “At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup.”

“Trevor!” someone exclaimed, running forward and claiming the small magical source of noise. He sounded and looked like the boy who’d been searching for a toad on the Hogwarts Express - how it had ended up already at the castle was rather beyond the confused Ariadne. After a bloated pause, McGonagall continued.

“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily.” With that, she turned and entered the Hall, leaving them in the stairwell.

“So they’re just letting anyone in, are they?” came a conceited voice from near the front - a sickly green cored child seemed to be its origin. “What is she, blind? Must have made us late.”  _ That was quick, _ Ariadne thought. Not many reacted, with a few sighing in what sounded like dislike of the child. Two in particular however, beside the child speaking, snickered and laughed. “She’ll probably go to Hufflepuff - they don’t have any standards, not like Slytherin.”

“Leave it,” Hermione whispered as Ariadne’s fist clenched around her cane. “Who cares what he thinks?” While Ariadne agreed, right now she wanted the last word.

“Wha-wha-what-whatever your name is, I’ve heard far worse fro-from far more creative people,” she said, wincing at her stammer.

“Whatever my name is?!” she heard the boy whisper indignantly to one of his friends before stepping to the middle of the column. This was going to be fun, Ariadne thought. “It’s Malfoy. Draco. Malfoy,” he said, as if that meant something. Beside her, Ron snorted. “Ugh. As if she didn’t have enough to be sorry for - no need to ask who you are. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley. You’ll find that some wizarding families are better than others, white-eyes; you don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort,” Malfoy said as his companions once again laughed.

“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks,” Ariadne replied coldly as the door opened and McGonagall returned. She returned quietly, and Ariadne heard her tap Malfoy on the shoulder to his apparent shock as his magic flinched.

“We’re ready for you now,” McGonagall said warmly, leading the group into the Hall.

At the open doors, Ariadne took in the wonder that was the Great Hall - the very tables were lined with inherent magic, as the floor burned with golds, reds, blues and greens. Around them, small cylinders hovered - candles, Ariadne remembered from  _ Hogwarts: A History _ \- and what must have been hundreds of students sat eagerly watching. The gentle popping of braziers filled the air and at the head was another long table. Somehow finding herself near the front, Ariadne took in a stool sitting directly ahead, atop it a conical hat with a wide brim and hanging cloth.

However, what impressed her most in her spherical vision was none of these - it was the fluorescent clouds that lay above her, clinging to the ceiling.

“It really is bewitched! It looks like the night sky to me, what does it look like to you ‘Adne?” Hermione asked, clearly also running through the history book in her mind.

“It’s like…” Ariadne thought for a moment. “It’s like the clouds, but filled with rainbows.” The group came to a halt as McGonagall told them to wait where they were.

“Wait along here please. Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.” Behind her as she stood aside, the centremost individual stood - his colours were perhaps the most complex Ariadne had ever seen, with nearly every colour warbling through him in some way or another.

“I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce,” the old-sounding man began. “The first years please note, that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mister Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”

“Wh?” Hermione briefly said before quickly quietening - Ariadne frowned in concern. That wasn’t exactly your average notice.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, sitting again.

“Now when I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your Houses,” McGonagall said, holding up the conical hat. “Hermione Granger,” she called as Ariadne watched Hermione’s magic go into an anxiety overdrive and she muttered to herself. It took her a moment to unfreeze and begin hesitantly walking up - Ariadne thought that perhaps she had expected the list to be alphabetical and was thus taken off guard.

“She’s mental, that one,” Ron muttered, earning an unceremonious whack across the knees from Ariadne’s probing cane. Hermione sat on the stool provided, wiggling a little nervously, as McGonagall placed the glowing hat on her head. As she did, glowing tendrils reached down from the brim toward where Ariadne presumed Hermione’s head was.

“Ah, right then. Hmmmm, right…” someone said, Ariadne realizing with a start that it was the  _ hat _ talking. Hermione too had been taken by surprise as she watched the hat itself shudder with her jump. “Okay. Gryffindor!” it yelled. Cheers and claps filled the air from Ariadne’s right, as Hermione shot up from the stool once the hat had been removed and ran over, sitting at the corresponding table. Her colours were still erratic, but she seemed to be recovering.

“Draco Malfoy,” the elder witch called, as the stuck-up kid from earlier strode up, pushing past some of the other students. He sat in the seat, and as McGonagall lowered the hat, the tendrils took one swipe at the boy’s head and declared:

“Slytherin!”

“There’s not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin,” Ron whispered to Ariadne. Slightly miffed, Ariadne leant over.

“That’s a simplistic and factually incorrect assessment, plenty of Dark witches or wizards came from other Houses. They just weren’t as prominent,” she said, partially quoting  _ Hogwarts: A History _ . However, if Draco Malfoy was the benchline, she had to wonder. Susan Bones was called, colours purple and green, and while she walked up Ariadne took a moment to survey the staff.

Most weren’t exactly unusual - save for the large man who’d eventually introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid - except for one very strange one. While all carried magical items on their persons, particularly Dumbledore, one on the left had something magical adhered to his head. And the only place Ariadne had seen anything like the black and white flickering of whatever it was was within her own magic. As she focused on it, she was immediately distracted by an abrupt burning pain in her forehead - in the lightning bolt scar she’d almost forgotten existed. Gently gasping and raising her free hand to it, Ron leant over.

“Ariadne - what is it?”

“Nothing… nothing, I’m fine,” she said, trying to make sure her fringe remained securely over the identifiable feature. What concerned her more however was the fact that at her reaction, a teacher beside the strange man had also reacted to  _ her _ and she felt as though whoever it was was watching her.

After what seemed a long time, Bones was sorted into Hufflepuff, and gleefully made her way to the table. 

“Ronald Weasley!” McGonagall called as the cheers for Susan died down. Ron too froze, but apprehensively made his way up. As the boy sat and the hat was placed on his head, he jumped.

“Ah!  _ Another _ Weasley. I know  _ just _ what to do with you. Gryffindor!” Surprisingly, more cheers than had previously been yelled erupted from beside Ariadne - as her sense confirmed, every single Weasley she’d seen was in Gryffindor. After Ron had stood and moved away, something strange happened. McGonagall sounded as if she’d started a name but then stopped. Curiously, Ariadne watched as she moved back to Dumbledore, and whispered to him. Ariadne didn’t catch the hushed communication, but she did hear the word “amended,” said in what sounded like anger. The professor stepped back.

“Ariadne Granger,” she called. With her heartbeat throbbing through her shoulders and breathing coming heavily, Ariadne probed her way through the crowd and up the steps. The tendrils of the hat extended down as she hesitantly felt for and sat in the stool, anxiety running wild.

The hat hit her head.

“Hmmmmmm. Difficult, difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see, and far keener a mind than I’d expected from you. There’s talent, oh yes. And a thirst to prove yourself… but where to put you?” It said, as if she was confusing. “Ravenclaw is tempting you know, you could be among the finest scholars, and Ravenclaw would help you on your way to that, there’s no doubt about that… but no,” it continued, as Ariadne squeezed her hands. “No, I see a deeper truth, deeper than all those  _ seeing  _ eyes do… no, your truths take courage, more courage than most I’ve seen. Better be… Gryffindor!” the hat yelled, as Ariadne opened the eyes she hadn’t even realized she’d closed and cheers came from the Gryffindor table. Standing, she made her way as quickly as she could to the table and sat down beside her sister. At her arrival, she was greeted by Ron’s siblings at first, Percy and then the twins Fred and George. Other students also said hi, but everyone quickly quieted down when McGonagall continued.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t actually know if school camps are a thing in England, but they sure are a thing in New Zealand.  
> While the Gryffindor students clap and cheer, Ariadne does not get the standing ovation that canon!Harry got - nobody knows who she is, to the other students she’s just the dark-haired blind girl. Yes, the hat was referring to Ariadne being trans when it said her “truths take courage.” Nobody else here yet knows except for some professors and Hermione - but, canon!Harry didn’t exactly get a break, and nor will Ariadne, unfortunately. That may change. I will warn in advance that there WILL be transphobic characters in future chapters.


	12. Stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione enjoy the feast, and in the common room remember some concerning passages in Hogwarts: A History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which my brain is aggressively compensating for nearly 2 years of little to no creative writing by refusing to send motivation for anything else - guess y’all are getting my work interrupted only by class and not the rest of my life xD  
> These last couple chapters have been a little short, since I’ve been dissecting scenes from the film. Next ones will be longer, I promise.  
> REMINDER: I am basing these off the films, not the books! If for no other reason than I do not have the bloody time to go reviewing the books, and if I can distance myself from Rowling’s terfstained fingers, all the better. Any lore not found in the movies is being found through Google or made up. I control the rate at which terfstained canon dies!  
> TW: Dysphoria

As the final student - a boy named Anton who got sorted into Ravenclaw - and time had been allowed for the new students to mingle a while and be introduced, one of the teachers rang a spoon against their glass and Minerva spoke.

“Your attention please,” she called, before Professor Dumbledore stood.

“Let the feast… begin,” he said, as the magic of the tables flared into what felt almost like Ariadne’s mind was being sucked into a vacuum cleaner, projectiles shooting up from them before they once again returned to being inert. Given the smells that now filled her nose, food had arrived.

“‘Mione, mind letting me know what’s where?” Ariadne asked Hermione, who sat to her right now that some people had moved about to introduce themselves. Evidently already having bitten into something, Hermione hummed through it and swallowed.

“Hmm! Okay, well in front of you in the middle is a big bowl of corn. On the cob. You’ve got cutlery on your right and a plate of peas, meat of some description, I think that’s chicken, and mash. You’ve also got a goblet further into the table filled with…” Hermione made a slurping noise as she drank some of her own. “Bleh, pumpkin juice. Do we have water or… some other sort of juice that people actually drink?” she asked generally before someone passed her a jug and said something to her. “Ah, orange juice. He says you can drain the goblet by tapping the stand twice.” Ariadne did so and the goblet itself glowed red. Hermione reached over and poured orange juice into the goblet before continuing. “Beside the corn directly in front of me is a plate of chicken drumsticks, which sticky-fingered Ronald here is already making good progress toward eviscerating, oh and there’s a gravy pitcher by him if you would like me to fetch it. Various salads down the line, sausages, fruit, etcetera,” she finished, as Ron attempted to convey his indignation at her description of his eating through a mouthful of the aforementioned chicken drumsticks.

“Thanks Hermione,” Ariadne said, beginning to pick apart her plate of food and downing a mouthful of orange juice - luckily it wasn’t pulpy, Hermione would have hated that, she thought. Down the line to their right, it seemed some of the others were resuming their introductions.

“I’m half-and-half,” a boy called Seamus said. “Dad’s a muggle. Mam’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out!” Ariadne cast her senses back to the head table as she chewed, and once again received a spark of pain in her forehead as she glazed over the staticky clump on someone’s head.

“Um. P-Percy? Who’s that teacher with something magic on his head?” Ariadne asked, sitting rigidly and nodding toward the figure.

“Huh? Oh right, can see magic. I’m guessing that’d be Professor Quirrell, Professor Snape isn’t wearing a hat. That’s funny, I didn’t think his turban was magic. Must be a fastening charm or something, to help make sure it stays on.” That didn’t sound right to Ariadne - not once in her visits to Diagon Alley had she ever seen anything like Quirrell’s turban.

“Wh.. wha-what-what does he t-teach?” she continued.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts. Beside him is Professor Snape, he’s the Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, but everyone knows he’s been after Quirrell’s job for  _ years _ .”

Their discussion was interrupted by both Ron and Hermione, as well as any other nearby first years, recoiling and gasping in shock at perhaps the strangest sight Ariadne had ever seen. It took the form of swirling silver, almost liquid-like, in the shape of the head and shoulders of a person rising from what Ariadne could see was the outline of the chicken drumsticks. 

“Hello!” it exclaimed, turning to Ron. “How’re you? Welcome to Gryffindor.” Perplexed, Ariadne watched the spectral man look up at more shapes - more people, wearing elaborate robes and hats, some armed, some hooting with laughter - floating into the Great Hall. One was even cackling and brandishing a sword.

“Are these…” Ariadne began, leaning over to Hermione.

“Hello, Sir Nicholas. Have a nice summer?” Percy asked, as if this was normal. As Ariadne remembered a passage from  _ Hogwarts: A History _ , Nicholas rose.

“Dismal; once again, my request to join the Headless Hunt has been  _ denied _ ,” the ghost said, floating to a less intrusive space.

“I know you! You’re Nearly Headless Nick!” Ron exclaimed.

“I prefer Sir Nicholas, if you  _ don’t _ mind,” he replied, offended. Both Hermione and Ariadne had heard of this ghost, but never the “nearly headless” part.

“Nearly headless? How can you be  _ nearly _ headless?” Hermione asked, echoing Ariadne’s confusion. Nicholas sighed.

“Like this,” he said, and for the first and hopefully only time, Ariadne watched a man pull his own head off to hold it dangling from skin on the right of his neck. Ron yelled in even more shock than he’d shown when the ghost had popped out of his favourite plate, and Hermione made a sound like she might be sick. Ariadne too gasped, wishing she could either turn off or block with her hands her vision. Nick shrugged his head back onto his neck and floated away, unfazed by the interaction.

“Wait, could you see that?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, he was… eurgh. I can see them like you can, I think. All silvery and swirly. Must be because ghosts are inherently magical in their shape,” she replied thoughtfully.

\--

Percy led the now full students up the stairs, patiently allowing for Ariadne to probe the stairs - however, the further they reached into the castle, the less she needed it. It wasn’t entirely useless yet, but it was getting easier to keep pace with her peers. Although, she still wasn’t used to taking stairs at this pace and did occasionally trip. The castle hadn’t exactly been built with non-magical building codes in mind either and many of the steps were uneven. As a result, she elected to retain her burning hatred for the architect. Rounding a corner to another short flight at the top of which the hallway diverged, Percy spoke up.

“Gryffindors follow me please, thank you,” he said, as the Ravenclaw Prefect did the same for his own house-mates. Coming to a stop at their new path, he continued. “This is the most direct path to the dormitories. Oh, and keep an eye on the staircases, they like to change.” Gazing out at what appeared to be a large main stairwell chamber, Ariadne’s hatred for the architect multiplied tenfold. The damn place was  _ made _ of stairs at this rate. Their only saving grace was their distinct shape brought about by inherent magic - the magic itself however balanced it back out into insanity, as this was responsible for Percy’s comment. Several floors up, she watched as staircases rotated to different landings without warning or reason. Whoever designed this building was, as she had already suspected, a madman who took perverse joy in making students late for class and motion-sick. Also around, adhered to the walls and virtually covering every surface - but providing excellent boundaries for walls - were single-colour irregular rectangles of a wide range of sizes. Not entirely sure what these were but grateful for the orienting points in what promised to be a disorienting part of the castle, she followed Percy as he turned and continued up the stairs.

“That picture’s moving!” she heard someone say behind her. It clicked into place in her mind - she’d heard that magical images could animate and even move of their own accord between other images if given the ability, but she’d almost not believed it. She’d hoped she could maybe see the content of the paintings if only vaguely, but it turned out this was not the case.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” a kindly voice erupted from her left, startling her to her knees. She was the furthest left of the group, and all that was beside her was the paintings. They could talk too?! Now that she knew they were sentient, she felt more watched than ever before with what looked like at least a hundred paintings visible from just this location alone - and potentially more than one character to a painting, she realized - and her skin crawled with an ever-present feeling of wrongness threatening to take over her mind. Coming to a large arched painting, just as flat and unmoving as the rest were to her, they stopped.

“Password?” it asked in a woman’s voice.

“Caput Draconis,” Percy replied. After a brief pause, the painting swung forward, revealing a doorway behind it, through which Percy proceeded. “Follow me, everyone.” The room within was cozy, and so saturated with magic that Ariadne was able to - after stepping over the ledge directly past the painting - discontinue the use of her cane. Around it were several sofas, chairs and tables, with what sounded and looked like a large fireplace to one side. It had a vaguely conical shape, with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling above and a balcony above a stairway opposite the main door.

“Gather round here. Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room,” Percy said as the students filled the centre of the room. “Boys’ dormitories upstairs and down to your left, girls’, the same on your right. You’ll find all your belongings have already been brought up. The dormitories have a bathroom in the tower just downstairs from yours as first years. I’ll leave you to get comfortable in your new home away from home, and if you’ll excuse me, I need sleep just as much as any of you do, so good night all,” he explained, cordially bidding them goodnight and proceeding toward his own dormitory before the first years all eagerly resumed their mid-feast socialization.

\--

As the first years’ scoffing of puddings finally caught up with them and yawns began to fill the Common Room at what must have been close to eleven o’clock, Ariadne and Hermione were the last to stand atop the balcony between dorms, the Common Room vacant and according to Hermione, the candles burnt almost all the way down while the fire had fallen into embers. Ariadne stopped at the archway to the girls’ dormitory stairs, breathing heavily. The words of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ rang in her head and she began pacing.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

“You know, the, the stair thing. The stair spell,” she said quietly, anxiously continuing to pace as the feeling of wrongness she’d felt when she realized the paintings were watching her returned with a vengeance and her tongue started to stick in her throat.

“Oh. The spell that stops boys from going up?” In the book, they’d read that Gryffindor Tower’s girls’ dormitories prevented access of boys by way of alarms and physically ejecting them. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. You’re just as much a girl as I am.” Ariadne gazed at the warbling magic of the stairs and kept thinking.

“B-but but wh-wh-wh-wha-what-what if it’s ba-based on sex and not gender? What if the stairs decide I’m a boy?” she quavered, fiddling with her cane. She nearly felt sick with worry. Hermione took her hands.

“Hey. I’ll hold your hand the whole time. Nothing will happen. And if it does? The stairs will be wrong. You  _ are _ a girl, Ariadne, you know that. I know that. Everyone knows that,” Hermione said fervently, shaking her hands with the words. “Okay?” Ariadne hesitantly nodded, turning toward the door and taking a deep breath.

“First step,” Hermione said, as she lifted her foot and put it down on it. Nothing happened, but she could see the tendrils of magic reaching toward her and her sister. “Second step.” Again, nothing yet, but still the filaments reached ever closer. “Third step.” 

The tendril touched her magical core.

Ariadne froze, terror overcoming her as she gripped Hermione’s hand for dear life.

Nothing.

No shrieking alarm.

No ejection.

“You good?” Hermione asked. Ariadne began to relax, smiling. She couldn’t talk for now, but she grinned and bobbed on the spot. The two continued up with newfound confidence, indeed finding their belongings and Ariadne grateful for the privacy of the curtained beds, and got changed into their pajamas. For the sake of politeness to their housemates, they elected not to read aloud, instead finding their heads plummeting onto the soft pillows from a day’s exhaustion and sleep taking them.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story, in the movie Quirrell visibly has hair poking out from under his turban in the Sorting scene - he doesn’t have any head hair later because, well, Voldemort. I choose to believe that it is not a costuming failure, Voldemort has a beard in this scene because why the hell not that’s hilarious. Now I’m imagining Quirrell trying to shave Voldemort’s facial hair after he demands it and just getting so many nicks on the back of his head.  
> Does Quirrell have to regularly shave Voldemort???  
> Anyway. Onwards!


	13. Setbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so our children go about their new school. Will it live up to the tales?  
> TW: Deadnaming (non-deliberate) and mention of dysphoria

Clang

Clang

Clang

Clang

Clang

Clang

Ariadne woke groggily to the sound of a clock tower ringing - she’d been roused from her sleep by it at every chime, and at this, the seventh since they had gone to bed at eleven the night before, she sat up and yawned. Six o’clock in the morning, far earlier than she would have preferred, but the girls had agreed to get up early. Yet to work out the layout properly, they wanted to figure out both how to get to their classrooms and also how long it would take instead of risking tardiness.

She rubbed a gob of sleep from her eye and stepped into her slippers, making an effort not to disturb the other sleeping girls also in the room as she heard Hermione too roll up from her sheets on her elbows. All about her glittered the muddied colours of hundreds of years of student magic, but regardless she sighed, taking her cane. The bathroom was downstairs, so she made her way slowly down. Luckily, she found the walls of the two stalls weren’t the horrible type that didn’t go all the way down to the floor, so her paranoia of a lack of privacy was sated a bit. She didn’t like using bathrooms at school, but she couldn’t exactly hold it in for four months. Once she was done, she began making her way to the Common Room to wait for Hermione before remembering that she should probably get dressed - McGonagall would hardly be impressed if she turned up to Transfiguration in pajamas and rabbit slippers.

It was probably wise to have gotten up early - stairs slowed her down way too much, and by the time she was done Hermione was the one waiting in the common room despite Ariadne having been quicker to actually get ready. Ariadne shuddered to imagine the delays the rest of the castle’s design would cause her.

“Morning ‘Adne! Sleep well?” she asked as Ariadne tentatively made her way down the staircase.

“Hm? Yeaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAh,” she replied, yawning.

“Should brush your hair, you look like a bird’s nest.”

“You can’t talk, I may not be able to see but I’ve heard things,” Ariadne laughed, reaching down into her light handbag.

“My hair is naturally like this! You just sleep weirdly, you move more asleep than you do awake,” Hermione replied. Both knew why, Ariadne was prone to nightmares, but they found it best to just laugh it off. Ariadne groaned when she realized her hairbrush wasn’t in her bag, but rather on the bedside table.

“Ugh. Would you mind going up and getting it? It’ll take me 10 minutes just to get back here if I do, and I for one want breakfast.” Normal stairs were bad enough, let alone spiral ones.

\--

Thanks to the magic coating the walls and floor, Ariadne was able to pick up more of a pace in the halls. She didn’t really know what time it was, but it had been maybe fifteen minutes since they’d left the Great Hall after hurriedly eating breakfast. Transfiguration started at 8 and she thought it was probably around 7:30? The bell had chimed again while they were eating, so it was definitely past 7. Based on the room designated in the timetable, Hermione had been trying to make an effort to figure out the system by which the numbers were organized. To her frustration, it wasn’t easy to follow between the different wings but they seemed to be getting nearer to it. 

“Aha! Room 34, third floor!” Hermione exclaimed, accelerating.

“Ayy!” Ariadne said, optimistically probing less as she followed to the door. Hermione pushed the door open with a creak as behind her Ariadne tapped it with her cane and the two stepped inside. The room was lined with desks, two chairs to each in three columns, with a teacher’s desk at the front and what looked like might be a blackboard to the right. Nobody was inside, save for the familiar swirl of Professor McGonagall leant over the desk flipping through papers and the scratching sound a quill emanating from her side.

“Ah, Misses Granger. Your punctuality is admirable, you’re early. Feel free to take a seat while I finish my final planning notes. Unfortunately young Ariadne I have been unable so far to compile a blind-accessible set of readings so for now I will have to ask your sister to read them to you if she is comfortable with that?” McGonagall said. “I can read them to the entire class if that would be less ostracizing, however.”

“That’s all right Professor, I can handle it,” Hermione said.

“Very good. Worry not, I am working on translating my readings into what the muggles call Braille, but unfortunately this has proven a longer task than I had expected, both in the typographical translation and the creation of the tactile version. I will do my utmost to have them ready as soon as possible,” McGonagall reassured Ariadne. “Aside from that, however, your punctuality provides an opportunity to inform you that Professor Dumbledore needs to speak with the two of you, Ariadne in particular - meet me after dinner tomorrow evening,” McGonagall said as the door opened and another few students found their way in. “I believe you can figure out the reason on your own,” she said pointedly. The two girls sat down beside one another a few seats back from the front in the middle and Hermione began taking out her textbook and notebook. Ariadne pulled from her handbag the MP3 player their parents had bought her for her last year of primary school, and set it down on the table as her mind was abuzz about what the headmaster could want, before she remembered something McGonagall had said the year before. That Professor Dumbledore had been intrinsically involved in the events leading from her birth parents’ demises and her placement with the Dursleys - given her anonymous fame in this world, conclusions were drawn in her head as she attempted to bring her concentration back to Transfiguration and the principles they’d studied during the previous year.

\--

“Now, before we continue, if you would take one and pass it along please, you should read this passage; it is not from your textbook, but the information is important and regards some of the history of Transfiguration not covered but relevant to this lesson. I meanwhile will demonstrate the magic it is about - the magic utilized by Animagi,” McGonagall announced after enrapturing Ariadne and Hermione with some of the bases of Transfiguration and its history. After the papers had been passed around and Hermione had begun quietly reading it to Ariadne - making sure that the MP3 player caught it - Ariadne’s attention was torn from her sister’s voice as the entire class gasped. She wasn’t sure  _ exactly _ what had happened, but McGonagall had become absolutely miniscule. Her magic seemed almost compressed, hunched over on her desk and no taller than the better part of a foot.

“What happened, she’s tiny,” Ariadne asked Hermione,

“She- she became a cat!” came the hushed reply. “ _ She’s _ an Animagus.”

“Woah…” Ariadne breathed. After a moment of awed pause, Hermione resumed her recitation of the reading before the room was filled with clattering. Someone had just run into the room, panting and hurriedly opening the door. From the colours, Ronald Weasley had finally turned up after being the only one absent. Hermione huffed and returned to the reading.

“Made it,” Ariadne heard Ron whisper to himself as he tried to find a seat. “Imagine the look on McGonagall’s face if you were late.” The cat-form McGonagall leapt forward as her magic uncompressed, reforming into her humanoid form and marching over to him. “That was  _ bloody brilliant! _ ” Ron exclaimed as she towered over him.

“Oh thank you for that assessment Mister Weasley. Perhaps it would be more useful if I were to Transfigure you into a pocket-watch? That way you might be on time,” she chided him.

“I got lost,” he replied.

“Then perhaps a map. I trust you don’t need one to find a seat?” she said critically, returning to her desk.

\--

After Transfiguration was Potions - it was easier to find, as there were fewer classrooms in the lower levels of the castle, however the stairs were murderous after returning to Gryffindor Tower for their cauldrons. However, the two were perfectly on time and sat in the second row from the front, as their cauldrons bubbled away and Ariadne set her MP3 down. Students chatted all around, while Ariadne wondered if she’d be able to see potions.

Calunk - SLAM!

The door swung open and the colours of Professor Snape swooped in. Ariadne hurriedly pressed the record button on her MP3 and a small beep emanated through the chamber.

“There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class,” he declared dryly as he came to a stop at the front. “As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few, who possess… the predisposition… I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses… I can tell you how to  _ bottle _ fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death,” he recited. Ariadne imagined he’d planned that little speech and smiled as she faced down toward the recorder. “Then again. Maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of recollection so formidable that you feel confident enough to not… pay… attention.”

There was a pregnant pause before Hermione lightly elbowed Ariadne’s arm and she faced up. Did Snape mean her? Did he expect her, a blind girl, to take notes?

“I suggest you pay more attention, Miss Granger, your little recording device shouldn’t become a crutch to you,” he said, coldly. “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” Snape seemed to believe that Ariadne hadn’t studied. She smiled lightly.

“A sleeping potion so potent it is often referred to as the Draught of Living Death,” she recited. It was a direct quotation from their textbook, and the script helped her avoid her stutter.

“Hmph. Where, Miss Granger, would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?”

“I-I-I would-wouldn’t want to look precisely, but the stomach of a goat,” she replied, grimacing, as Hermione almost answered to the name too.

“And what is the difference between monkswood and wolfsbane?”

“There isn’t one - they are the same plant, also known as aconite.”

“Indeed. I hope you take that… studious attitude… into class with you,” Snape said, almost disappointed, as he returned to his almost certainly pre-planned speech.

\--

Lunchtime came mercifully as Potions was completed, after a long lecture about the basics of alchemical combinations and a small practical portion. This hadn’t been a potion specifically, so Ariadne hadn’t been able to test her theory as to whether she’d be able to see potions, but it had been interesting enough. The girls sat by what she was told was a basket of bananas - she could smell them enough to tell this was true, she hated bananas and the smell just as much, but nowhere else was free.

“Eye of rabbit, harp string hum. Turn this water, into rum!” Seamus said a ways down the table as he flailed his wand. He leaned forward, and sat back down again. “Eye of rabbit, harp string hum! Turn this water, into rum!” he repeated as Ariadne bit into some toast. “ _ Eye of rabbit, harp string hum! Turn this water, into rum! _ ” he said again more intensely, and this time Ariadne watched as not his wand but the boy’s magical core itself lashed out at what was briefly illuminated to be a goblet as an explosive sound filled the Hall. As she smelled smoke and waved it from her face, she heard a chirping noise from above.

“Oh! Mail’s here!” Ron said from beside her. Indeed, soon the Hall was filled with the head-centred magic of owls as the sounds of parcels being caught filled the hall. It seemed the owls weren’t being exactly courteous about their deliveries and Ariadne put her hand over her head just in case. What sounded like something very light landed beside her and Hermione picked it up.

“May I?” she asked Ron, who must have nodded because she didn’t put it down. Ariadne was distracted by, down the line, Neville taking a reddish sphere from a box.

“Hey look! Neville’s got a Remembrall!” Dean said.

“We’ve read about those!” both Ariadne and Hermione said at the same time. 

“When the smoke turns red, it means you’ve forgotten something,” Hermione offered in a helpful yet slightly boasting tone.

“The only problem is, I can’t remember what I’ve forgotten!” Neville replied.

“Wh- look at this!” Hermione said, with a piece of paper in her hand. Ariadne could see magic-filled rectangles on it, so maybe this was a newspaper? If the pictures moved in paintings, maybe they did in newspapers too. 

“Oh yeah, him! I wondered why he never got called up!” Ron said, as Ariadne watched Hermione’s magic turn shaky.

“What is it?” Ariadne asked.

“Um. Well.  _ Where Is The Boy Who Lived? _ writes the Daily Prophet.  _ Harry Potter, or the Boy Who Lived as he is known as legend to the wizarding world, is known for having defeated the dark wizard Who Must Not Be Named eleven years ago, as only a baby, before disappearing entirely. Wizarding presses all over the United Kingdom awaited with bated breath the arrival and Sorting of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived into his House at Hogwarts - Potter, who should now be attending Hogwarts at the age of eleven, has been enrolled since he was born, but according to sources within the castle, never appeared during the ceremony wherein first-year students arrive and are Sorted last night _ ,” Hermione recited, to Ariadne clearly trying to not seem suspicious. 

Ariadne however found her heartbeat in her larynx and her hands going numb. 

“ _ Some have speculated that Potter was in fact Sorted separately outside of the main ceremony for his safety, or that perhaps he was somehow born a Squib, while others ask… does Harry Potter even exist? Not a single child in our world doesn’t know his name, but not one of us has ever seen the Boy Who Lived. Is it possible that Harry Potter was in fact an invention, a figure created to protect the identity of He Who Must Not Be Named’s true killer? Regardless, it seems we are not to meet this mythic child just yet. Time will tell if he reveals himself or is revealed to the public. _ ” Ariadne winced slightly at every mention of  _ Boy _ Who Lived and the name she wished she could leave behind.

“We’d know if Harry Potter were here, wouldn’t we? That’d spread fast. Oh! Unless he’s using a fake name!” Seamus said excitedly. “He could be in this very room and we might not know!”

“Yeah! Heh, for all you know,  _ I  _ could be Harry Potter!” Ron said, nudging Ariadne.

“Ha-ha, yeah,” Ariadne forced a laugh as she felt like she might throw up.

“Oh dear,” Hermione said, possibly attempting to distract from the dangerous topic. “Someone tried to rob Gringotts! However, nothing was taken because the vault in question had been emptied the same day!”

“Huh, weird. Must have been someone powerful, those goblins know their stuff,” Ariadne replied, trying to get the conversation changed to no avail as the rest of the table and indeed the entire Hall began bustling with discussion of the Boy Who Lived’s mysterious failure to appear, not knowing that the object of their discussions was sitting by them with her hair over her fringe and a skirt about her knees. Lunchtime proved an assailment of her deadname, as she squirmed with every fear that someone might notice her body being wrong.

\--

Ariadne and Hermione collapsed onto a sofa in the Common Room. It had been a long day, but certainly an enjoyable one with the exception of lunchtime’s stress. Dinner had been filling - not as much as the Feast the night before, but definitely plenty at the buffet.

“I-I’d bet-t-t-better revise what we learned today,” Ariadne said, pulling the MP3 player from her bag and setting it beside her. “You can go back over your notes and fill in anything you missed, if you like,” she told Ron, who sat down nearby. From the lack of shuffling, Ariadne guessed he was more interested in the MP3 player than the contents of its recordings. As Hermione sat down too, Ariadne pressed play on the first file - the first part of the Transfiguration lesson, before Ron had arrived.

_ Hshshshshhssssshsshshshhsssssssssssssshshshshshhshs - brew glory - hsahshhshshshshhshshshshhshshshshsssssshshshssssssssss - basic principles of - hshhsssssssssssshsshshshshhshshssssssssssssss - Asphodel - hshshsssssshshssssssshshshshshsssssss _

Ariadne felt her face go flushed as confusion and panic filled her. Was it broken? It couldn’t be the files, she’d made several and this was a combination of all of them.

“Uhhh… Hermione…” she began.

“Um. It has a 9 on the panel, and the waveform is going nuts. I don’t see what the problem would be?”

“Oh no,” Ron began. “I forgot, you guys must not have known - muggle machines don’t work here.”

“What?!” Ariadne exclaimed.

“Yeah, my dad goes on about it all the time, he’s really into muggle stuff. Just goes haywire at Hogwarts, too much magic or something. Says it messes with the kerkitry.”

“Y-you mean circuitry?” Hermione asked as worry filled her voice and Ariadne felt her face go even redder as despair filled her.

“Something like that, yeah.” Ariadne slumped in the sofa as her hands dropped her cane and covered her tearing eyes as the player continued to spout static and occasional nonsense. Her world was falling apart. The new school was built to stop her, Snape would occasionally pick on her for her blindness, the magical press was looking for her and now even her lifeline of revision had been cruelly tugged from her grasp by the very nature of their learning.

For the first time, she wished she wasn’t magical, as her hands fell and she began to cry.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed as she hugged Ariadne. “It’s.. it’s okay. I have notes! I took plenty, I can run back over them for you. We can do that, it helps to be able to explain it to someone else anyway. You’re going to be okay ‘Adne,” she said as Ariadne cried. “I’ll go get Hermes and ask mum and dad if they can look around Diagon Alley, maybe we can get you a magical recorder?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventures and woes of Hogwarts begin! Ariadne’s gonna have a hard time until McGonagall can get the Transfiguration readings into Braille, not to mention other subjects.  
> And what will come of Dumbledore’s talk tomorrow? We shall see!


	14. Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their second day and their first flying lesson, where Ariadne turns out to have an advantage in some fields.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you’ve probably noticed, I’m now somewhat sticking to the movie. As the story goes, the divergence from canon will increase, but so far it’s not too distant.  
> TW: Dysphoria (mentioned), bullying

After another restless night interrupted both by the incessant ringing of the tower bell and Ariadne’s panic related to schoolwork which held her awake for longer than she’d like, she once again dragged herself from the bedsheets at the bell’s seventh toll with a groan and a yawn. She sat up, blinking and unconsciously gritting her teeth.

Today may not have been a fun prospect with her notetaking device out of commission, but to her relief, it wouldn’t be a day where she took notes even if she could see. Broomstick flying lessons, which while intimidating to her due to the idea of flight, were at least likely to be entirely practical and unimportant to their actual grades. She swung herself to the side and searched for her slippers with her feet. She missed several times, chills running up her legs as her feet touched the cold wooden floor, but she found them and pushed her feet into them.

Closing her heavy eyes, she took her cane and made her way past the other waking girls and and began her descent down the stairs to use the bathroom.

Sweep… there’s the edge. Step. Sweep… edge. Step. Sweep. Edge. Step. Sweep, edge, step. Sweep, edge, step. Sweep, edge, step- _no ground_. The world flew upward as her foot overshot the edge of a step on the thinner side of the spiral, possibly skipping not one but two steps and sending her tumbling over and crashing down the steps. Her arms flailed for purchase on the stone walls and floor and her legs collapsed under her.

She scraped to a stop a few feet down, hitting the brick wall as her arm grazed through her pajamas. She slowly sat as best she could in the vaguely coloured environment - the stairs were transitional, nobody spent as much time in them as they did the dorms or common room and only the entrance section of the stairs was specifically magical - and rubbed what felt like a bruise on her shoulder.

“Oww,” she groaned under her breath, half standing up and finding her footing before straightening.

Sweep… edge… step. Sweep… edge… step. Sweep… edge… step. Sweep… edge… step. Sweep… edge… step.

By the time she’d gotten all the way down, finished up and climbed the whole way back up, carefully and even slower than before, everyone was getting ready already.

“Wh- hey, you okay ‘Adne? Your hand’s all scratched, did you fall?” Hermione asked. She nodded.

“Stupid stairs,” she mumbled.

“Do you want help in the future? You can wake me up and I’ll make sure you don’t fall?” Hermione asked.

“I can do it!” Ariadne snapped as her face flushed. “I can do it on my own.” Hermione drew back as she almost stomped back over to her bed and the room went silent. She stopped. “Ugh, I’m sorry. Just… frustrated. It’s fine, I’ll just have to go slower is all.” She felt for the posts of the bed and rolled back onto the mattress, pulling the curtains closed and finding her uniform in its little nook in the head of the bed. Blessed darkness surrounded her aside from her own colours within the bed, with it the comforting knowledge that nobody could see her as her body’s wrongness assailed her on top of the stinging grazes.

\--

By the end of breakfast, she’d perked up a little. The grazes up her right side still stung a little but it was beginning to fade. She was also glad at the availability of sausages at breakfast and had immediately latched onto the simplicity of sausages and toast. Simplicity was good and she preferred repetition when it came to food. Once their hungers had been sated and gossip of Ariadne’s absent fame ran dry among the other students people began departing. Several teachers had left long before for their classes as had many of the kids and Ariadne stood, swinging her cane out in front of her as she followed her classmates to the field.

Stepping off the path and scrunching up her eyes at the feeling and sound of the grass against her shoes, she was greeted by two rows of thirteen brooms - twenty six in total. They glistened golden in her senses as they sat on the ground. Unlike her expectation, they were not all straight, and two on her left had a particularly strong bend to them. Hopefully she got one of the more regular ones. Everyone eventually found their way into two lines, Ariadne on the row to her right - she’d been a bit obvious in her preference for a broom as straight as a ruler but not many else cared. Hermione too had gone for a straighter one, right beside hers. After the class settled, Ariadne watched as a golden and green figure strode toward them, making a beeline to go between the two rows of brooms.

“Good afternoon, class,” the figure said curtly.

“Good afternoon Madam Hooch,” recited much of the class in unison - Ariadne joined midway through, not realizing this was a thing.

“Good afternoon Amanda, good afternoon,” she continued as she reached the end of the lines. She span to face them. “Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up,” she instructed as they all followed. “Stick your right hand over your broom and say ‘up’.” Ariadne flipped her cane into her left hand and aligned her hand as best she could while unable to see it and cries of ‘Up!’ began surrounding her. “Oh, Miss Granger, I’ll take that for the moment, you won’t be needing it in the air. I’ll give it back once we’re done,” Madam Hooch strode over as a few students’ brooms shot up into their hands. Ariadne carefully gave Hooch the cane and returned to the exercise.

“Up!” she said, watching as a connection formed between her core and the broom - the same was happening all around her, and her broom jumped briefly. “Up!” she repeated, it shot into her hand and she struggled to catch it. The thing was almost buzzing with excitement and she marvelled at it.

“Up. _Up!_ ” Ron pleaded with his, as his own connection struggled and the broom remained flat on the ground.

“With feel!” Hooch called.

“Up. Up. Up! Up! _Up. Up! Up!_ ” Hermione was beginning to sound frustrated. Her connection was getting there, so far stronger than Ron’s as her broom wobbled beside her. That changed, as a frustrated _UP!_ escaped Ron’s lips and the broom shot up, spinning to align with his core and from the crack that sounded, hitting him square in the forehead. He roiled back as Ariadne briefly giggled before turning to Hermione.

“You need to trust it more, your magic’s only partially connected,” she said quietly.

“O..kay? _Up!_ ” Hermione called for a final time, as the link between her and her broom solidified and it jumped into her hand.

“Now. Once you’ve got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it,” Hooch said. Ariadne tentatively swung her left leg around the back of it, hitting it once before finding it beneath her. “Grip it tight! I don’t want any of you sliding off the end.” Hooch began walking back between them. “When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady. Hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly and touch back down.” Questions filled Ariadne’s mind before she remembered the connection. She had to trust the broom. This wasn’t going to be a scientific process and though it was her instinct, she shouldn’t treat it as one. “On my whistle. Three, two…” The whistle blared across the field.

Almost in unison, everyone kicked off the ground, levitating. Ariadne initially felt ill at the brief ascension, but quickly overcame it; trusting the broom to hold her kept her connection strong. It was stable. Brief euphoria filled her, at her newfound ability to fly. Not everyone’s connection was so strong save for a couple others - including the obnoxious Malfoy child - and a few fluctuated so much that the broom itself wobbled in the air threatening to fall. She leant forward, but found that the broom reacted more to her intent than the action itself. Her feet met the ground again and a grin split her face. However, as the rest of the students touched down, there was one noticeable exception.

Neville.

His connection was almost nonexistent, and the broom wavered as he desperately leant forward. His magic itself looked like he was panicking and the line connecting him and the broom bubbled.

“Umm.. Uhmmmm,” he sounded panicked too as the broom continued to rise.

“Mister Longbottom!” Hooch exclaimed. Nobody else seemed to be able to tell why his movements were so erratic as cries of “Neville, what are you doing?” filled the air. “Mis-mis-mis-mister Long- Mister Longbottom!” Hooch called as Neville’s broom began moving of almost its own accord and he glided forward past the other students, gaining altitude the whole time.

“Down! Down!” Ariadne heard Neville attempting to order his broom down, to no avail as the thing only got higher. “Help! Help!” he cried as it accelerated upward.

“Come back down this instant!” Hooch yelled at him, as the broom’s movements began to stop being linear - it shook from side to side and he looked like he might fall off.

“He-he-he-he’s-he’s not in control, Madam Hooch! Thethethethethethe connection’s too weak!” Ariadne tried to shout over the crowd to no avail. Neville’s broom began to spin uncontrollably as it regained forward momentum.

Directly toward what, if Ariadne was extrapolating from the lower coating of magic correctly, was a wall.

There were smacking sounds as the ends of the broom slammed into the castle, alternating as he spun toward what looked like a corner. The back of the broom slammed into a wall behind it and ricocheted, now pointing downward on an almost vertical trajectory. Neville managed to pull up before he hit the ground, but then found himself barrelling uncontrollably toward the class. Hooch pulled her wand from her robe.

“Mister Longbo-” Hooch began before diving to the left. Panic also filling Ariadne and clearly the rest of the class as well, the entire class dove to the side, parting as he shot through where they’d been standing like a bullet.

He passed through an archway and out of Ariadne’s senses, but it wasn’t long before he shot back up over the short section of the building and the class stood back up. The broom went horizontal again, flying toward the field before something caught Neville - the broom shot out from under him and he stopped. Hanging from something, possibly by his jacket by the sound it made.

“Woaaah!” he called, his magic fluctuating wildly. There was a ripping sound as he jolted downward.

The robe tore and he plummeted, catching on something else before falling again and slamming into the ground with a cry.

“Is he all right?” Ariadne whispered to Hermione.

“Everyone out of the way!” Hooch yelled, the class parting once again to let her through. On her way past, she passed Ariadne her cane. More accurately, she threw it to Hermione, who handed it to her sister. She reached Neville and leant down. “Oh-ohh dear, it’s a broken wrist. Come on now, up we get,” she helped Neville up as Ariadne watched, behind her, Malfoy pick up a familiar reddish orb - Neville’s Remembrall.

“Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mister Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say Quidditch.” Hooch dictated as she escorted the injured boy away. Draco strode to the centre of the group as she escaped earshot.

“Did ya see his face? Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he’d remember to fall on his fat arse,” he said, putting as much emphasis on fat as she’d heard bullies emphasize the word blind at her. Rage beginning to boil in her, she stepped forward.

“Give-give it here, Malfoy,” she said as firmly as she could with her stammer.

“No. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” The boy stepped up as a connection formed between him and the broom he was holding, as he levitated up briefly. He swung around the group and cut through. “How about on the roof?” He ascended a ways, before coming to a stop facing them. “What’s the matter blindey? Bit beyond your reach?” he called from far above.

Ariadne exhaled sharply and mounted her broom. Not only was she still connected to the broom but her connection was far stronger than Malfoy’s was in the moment.

“‘Adne, no way! You heard what Madam Hooch said! Besides, you don’t even know how to fly!” Hermione exclaimed.

“I’m not leaving it. I’ve had enough of bullies for a lifetime,” she said, anger fueling confidence. “Hold this,” she said, handing her cane back. She knew that it probably wasn’t actually an expel-able offense anyway.

Before Hermione could protest, she willed her broom forward and it shot up exactly the way she wanted. She swung around and came to a stop ahead of Draco’s colours.

“Gi-give it here, Malfoy!” she called.

“What are you gonna do, take it? You can’t even _see_ it,” Draco spat at her, tossing the ball in the air and catching it again. Impulse taking her, she jolted forward, arm flailing toward it as Malfoy did a standing barrel roll to avoid her. “Have it your way then,” he continued. Before Ariadne could react, he’d thrown it. The Remembrall tumbled into the air and Ariadne pushed her broom into a sprint after it, rocketing past Malfoy and causing him to shake. “What the,” she heard him say as the gap between them grew.

The ball had reached the top of its parabolic curve, and she accelerated as best she could before it could begin falling properly. Reaching out, she span as her fingers found the ball and she clutched it tightly. 

In the distance, the class gasped in what sounded more like horror before it quickly became awe. She could have sworn Hermione had screamed.

As she hovered, she noticed almost directly below her the smattering of magic along the tower walls. She gently reached out into the darkness and her hand hit stone. If she’d been a foot closer, she would have slammed into it at full force. 

Shuddering at that thought, she set her broom to the task of landing. She floated down as gently as she could, not knowing quite where the almost certainly sloping ground was, descending back toward the class. It didn’t help as they began cheering, running toward her which resulted in her no longer having a stationary anchor for reference. Malfoy had already landed, slowly and almost confusedly walking toward the class as well. Her feet hit the ground a little harder than she’d have liked and she nearly fell down. Ariadne dismounted the broom and cautiously stepped forward on the brick pathway, seeing Hermione rush forward and press the cane back into her hands.

“You idiot, you almost got yourself killed! Gave me a bloody heart attack!” Hermione exclaimed as she pulled Ariadne into a hug. Grinning like a maniac, Ariadne held the Remembrall up triumphantly before her blood left her body as the colours of Professor Minerva McGonagall approached.

“Ariadne Granger!” McGonagall called. “Follow me,” she ordered. Ariadne couldn’t tell if it was anger or somehow pride in her voice, but she began toward the witch. She pocketed the Remembrall to return to Neville later and followed.

They were already well within the castle before she bemusedly realized she was still holding the broom in her left hand as she probed with her right, but at this point she couldn’t exactly return it as she struggled to keep up with the Professor.

“You, wait here,” McGonagall told her as they approached the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. They hadn’t had their first of those lessons yet, but they’d figured out the layout after classes the day before. “Professor Quirrell, if you’d excuse me, could I borrow Wood for a moment please?” she heard her ask Quirrell.

“Y-y yes - of course,” the man replied. Ariadne felt a gentle kinship with the man at his stutter, even if she was intensely curious about his headwear being such an odd kind of magic. Another figure followed McGonagall out of the classroom, presumably the aforementioned Wood.

“Granger, this is Oliver Wood,” McGonagall said. “Wood… I have found you a Seeker!” she continued, what was definitely pride entering her voice.

After having just demonstrated being able to fly on a broom and catch things, Ariadne realized this was probably to do with that sport Hooch had mentioned. Kiddish? Kredditch?

“Seek-er?” she asked, confused.

The name came back to her.

Quidditch.

“But, Professor, forgive me Miss Granger, but, she’s blind? How can she be a Seeker who can’t see?” the older boy asked, in an attempt to be sensitive but also raise the issue.

“This young lady may not possess functioning eyes, but she does possess the rare ability to sense magic as colours. I’ve just watched her pluck what I believe is a Remembrall?” Ariadne pulled it from her pocket and held it up. “Yes, a Remembrall out of the air at immense velocity on her first flight on a broomstick. I don’t see it being an impediment to her - after all, the Snitch isn’t a mundane ball.” Ariadne swore she could _see_ the pride in McGonagall’s magic.

\--

“Have you heard? Ariadne Granger is the new Gryffindor Seeker! I always knew she’d surprise us!” Ariadne heard Sir Nicholas say as he floated across the hall with another ghost in arm, pride filling Ariadne’s heart as she smiled. After a long discussion with Wood and McGonagall Ariadne had gone with Ron to the Hospital wing to return Neville’s Remembrall and the two were now returning to where Hermione had said she’d be waiting.

“Seeker?! But first years _never_ make the House teams! You must be the youngest Quidditch player in a-” Ron marvelled.

“Century, accor-crr-according to McGonagall,” Ariadne cut him off. Behind her, Fred and George approached.

“Hey, well done ‘Adne! Wood’s just told us!” George said from her right.

“Hey Fred, George,” she said, nodding to them.

“No no, that’s Fred, I’m George,” said Fred. Ariadne laughed.

“No you’re not. I can see magic, remember. You look different to me.”

“Bugger,” Fred replied. “We’ve got to get her in on it, if she says we’re the opposites then everyone’ll believe us!” Ariadne giggled.

“I take payment in pastries and sweets,” she replied with a smile as the two laughed.

“They’re on the team too - Beaters,” Ron explained.

“Our job is to make sure you don’t get bloodied up too bad,” George said, leaning into them. “Can’t make any promises o’course. Rough game, Quidditch.”

“Brutal! But, no-one’s died in years. Someone did vanish once, but they turned up again in a month or two!” Fred called as the four separated off again - Ariadne had spotted Hermione’s colours among a group of studying first-years and they turned off into the courtyard. She blanched at the idea that it was a potentially lethal sport, and her grin vanished.

“Oh go on Ariadne! Quidditch is great, best game there is! And you’ll be great too!” he said, as Hermione stood to join them. Anxiety, however, was buzzing through Ariadne’s head.

“But I’ve never even played Quidditch! What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself. It’s in your blood,” Hermione said matter-of-factly as she stopped.

“Huh?” Ariadne asked, tilting her head.

“C’mon over here. Not you Ronald,” Hermione said, tugging at Ariadne’s sleeve. As they got away from everyone else a bit, Hermione leant over.

“I did some reading about it - your birth dad? James Potter? He was Gryffindor’s Seeker too in his time. You’ll do fine - it’s in your blood.” Ariadne however wasn’t so sure. Her experience with her blood family had made her devalue such connections almost immediately upon becoming part of the Granger family.

“I never knew him though. It’s not like he was able to pass on his secrets or anything. James Potter isn’t my dad, Dad is.” The two rejoined Ron, giving him only the vaguest detail that Ariadne was adopted and her birth parents had attended Hogwarts when he asked, and began to make their way back to the Common Room - mercifully they didn’t have class again today and wanted to relax a bit before dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get why people were panicking in the film about Neville losing control but they really shouldn’t have been going “Neville, what are you doing?” quite so quickly. At that point, he was literally the only student following the instructions Hooch gave them - nobody else even MOVES in the movie.


	15. Three on Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way back to the Common Room, an unexpected stair shift puts Ariadne and her friends somewhere they don’t want to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the summary! The old one was more based on pre-Hogwarts, so this is more current. Also discovered while planning a spot where literally the entire plot is shifted so just y’all wait this thing is gonna diverge HARD eventually.  
> Not just yet though. And yes, I am planning to take this through the entire series.

“It’s wicked! You’ll do great!” Ron exclaimed as they rounded the corner and Ariadne began probing the next flight of stairs. The amount of magic around was overwhelming in the stairwell chambers, with how many paintings of varying size and colour hung on the walls. She was beginning to notice that they were sometimes linked by strands, almost like a faint glimmering spider web stretched between them. “Who  _ was  _ your dad anyway?” Ron asked.

“Uh…” Ariadne swung her head to Hermione who was right behind them. Before Hermione was burdened with the dangerous question, the magic staircase beneath her feet changed colour. “UHH.” The ground jolted and Ariadne swung her left arm out for the baluster, clinging onto her cane so it didn’t fall. Hermione made an almost nauseous sound and she too clung to the opposite baluster. Ron, however, seemed to be able to hold his balance on the shaking staircase. It began spinning away from their destination at a ponderous pace.

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to deal with this…” Ariadne complained, words slurring together in anxiety as it approached ninety degrees. With a CLUNK, the staircase shuddered to a halt on another landing. “Let’s go up here,” Ariadne said, hurriedly probing.

“Before the staircase  _ moves _ again!” Ron replied, sounding like he was nodding. Hermione too followed and Ron pushed open the door ahead of them, if only to make sure they were out of anyone’s way while they waited for the staircases to reshuffle in a way that took them where they wanted.

The sloping arched corridor within was desolate, to say the least. No magic had been used here in a long while. She could sense the vague outlines of creepy statues and the supports holding up the ceiling, but little else other than a series of red dots along it.

It smelled too. It smelled of dust and rat droppings, as Ariadne scrunched up her nose in an effort to suppress a sneeze. 

“...Does anybody feel like, we shouldn’t be here?” Ron asked. Ariadne nodded.

“Nobody’s been here in a while,” she replied.

“Huh?”

“Almost no magic.”

“We’re not  _ supposed _ to be here, this is the third floor, right hand side. It’s forbidden!” Hermione said. Ariadne jumped as the red dot nearest to them lashed out at her own magic and flared into a flame.

“Let’s go,” Ariadne said.

Something slunk in the door behind them. A yowl echoed through the abandoned corridor as they all spun to face the tiny magical pinpricks.

“It’s Filch’s cat!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Run!” Ron cried, turning and running. Hermione jogged after him while Ariadne struggled and tripped almost immediately. She stood as quickly as she could and attempted to follow Hermione’s path instead of probing it. If Hermione had been able to run there, she should be able to. Occasionally her foot kicked against what sounded as it hit the walls concerningly like bone. As they ran past, whoever got there first got the same treatment from the torches as the sound of them lighting filled the hallway.

“I see magic! Let’s hide through that door!” Ariadne yelled as she caught up to the slowing Ron and Hermione. Ron ran up to the door and began fiddling with the latch.

“It’s locked! We’re done for!” he exclaimed. Ariadne reached for her wand in unison to Hermione. They both knew the spell, but her sister got there first.

“Oh  _ move over! _ ” Hermione said, pushing past Ron. “ _ Alohomora _ .” she cast, as a wave of green illuminated the latch and unlocked it. The three tumbled in after her, Ariadne overshooting and immediately freezing.

Ariadne could feel her heartbeat in her fingers as she gasped.

The room was perfectly coated. Too perfectly. She could see individual bricks, the cracks in the floor. Even the silhouette of her own feet, which she had never seen before.

And she could also see, against the perfectly defined walls, the shadow of a large creature shifting slightly over what looked like a trapdoor, and deep within it a vague, almost pronged, magic core.

Something was wrong here, and if they shouldn’t have been in the abandoned corridor then they  _ definitely _ shouldn’t have been in this chamber.

“Alohomora?” Ron asked.

“ _ Standard Book of Spells _ , Chapter Seven,” Hermione explained as the door swung shut.

“On second thoughts…” Ariadne began, before being hushed.

“Shh!” The two were veritably hugging the door, probably listening. Ariadne stood as still as she could, hoping whatever it was she could see the shadowed silhouette of wouldn’t move. Whatever it was, it was magical itself. She reached over, trying to tap her sister on the shoulder but found she couldn’t reach.

“ _ This is the third floor, right hand side, it’s forbidden! _ ” rang through her mind, followed quickly by what Dumbledore had said not two nights before. “ _ The third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds, to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death _ .”

She couldn’t help but think that whatever the beast before her was, it was exactly what Dumbledore had been talking about. She couldn’t make out much, but she could see enough to tell it was starting to rouse at their arrival.

“Filch is gone,” Hermione announced as Ariadne stepped back.

“Probably thinks this door’s locked,” Ron said.

“It  _ was  _ locked.”

“A-and for good reason,” Ariadne said as she watched the figure yawn and rise. The silhouettes of three heads against the perfectly defined walls rose to face them as one or all began to growl - a dog’s growl but reverberating through three throats.

Memories of Ripper, Aunt Marge’s dog back at the Dursleys who had terrorized Ariadne when Marge had visited filled her mind and it became hard for her to breathe. She span on the spot, running and hurriedly opening the door again as the others screamed before following. She tumbled through the doorway, immediately tripping on the ledge and falling to her hands. Ron and Hermione got out, and tried to swing the door closed. The growling ceased only to be replaced by chaotic barking, the angry voices of three dogs attached to a single body. Ariadne scrambled to her feet with her cane still clutched in her hand and threw her weight against the door. One of the heads managed to get into the doorway as they pressed the door closed as hard as they could, the dogs’ raking teeth scraped against the wooden door as the trio pushed as hard as they could. 

It gave as the dog reared back for another charge, and slammed into the doorframe.

She heard the door lock catch and stepped back into the darkness, breathing heavily. The door slammed into its lock, shaking and banging into the darkness around them.

Hermione’s colours were spasming wildly as she virtually ran backwards, waving her hands, and Ron stepped back too. 

“What the  _ hell _ was that?!” Ron almost yelled. Hermione could only release strangled noises of confusion and fear in response and Ariadne’s mouth hung open in terror. 

“L-ll-l-l-l-l-l-l-lllll-lll-let’s get get get out of here,” Ariadne said as she finally released her jaw. Hearts pounding into their throats, they fled for the safety of Gryffindor Tower as fast as their legs could safely carry them.

\--

“What do they think they’re doing?! Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?! Ron cried as they reached the Common Room.

“You don’t use your eyes, do you? Didn’t you see what it was standing on?” Hermione said.

“ _ I wasn’t looking at its feet! I was a bit preoccupied with its heads! _ Or maybe you didn’t notice? There were three!” Ron replied indignantly.

“Even  _ I _ saw what it was standing on,” Ariadne said. “That place was solid magic.”

“It was standing on a trapdoor, which means it wasn’t there by accident,” Hermione continued as Ariadne nodded. 

“It’s guarding something,” Ariadne said. “But what would Hogwarts need to guard that badly?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to go wash my hands before dinner, before we end up with any more clever ideas to get us killed. Or worse,  _ expelled _ .”

“She needs to sort out her priorities,” Ron said as soon as she was out of earshot. Ariadne shot him a reproachful look.

“I’m with her,” she said, following.

\--

“Why would someone want to hide something so badly to abandon an entire wing of Hogwarts? Why wouldn’t they just put it in Gringotts?” Hermione asked quietly as they sat down at the table in the Great Hall.

“Y-yeah, doesn’t make sense,” Ariadne replied as the almost nauseating process of food’s arrival folded her senses. Oh how she wished she was capable of simply looking away. Her omnidirectional sense for magic had its advantages, but sometimes it could be a pain. “Wait, didn’t someone break into Gringotts the other day? And the vault had been emptied already?”

“There’s no way it’s what they were looking for under the dog, that’s way too much of a coincidence,” Hermione said. Ariadne reached forward for what, had she been correct, should have been a plate of toast, but her fingers instead met what felt like a bowl of bread rolls. It seemed they’d changed the layout since last night. Giving up on putting together a more personalized meal, she picked up her fork and started trying to figure out what was on the plate.

“Isn’t it odd though, that someone breaks into Gringotts just before the first day of term? The vault was emptied on the same day, it makes sense if they knew someone might try to steal it then to move it. Remember what  _ Hogwarts: A History _ said? ‘ _ It is often said that the castle of Hogwarts is perhaps the safest place in Britain, safer even than the vaults of Gringotts Bank _ .’” Ariadne proposed. “To empty the vault on the same day without anyone noticing means it was small, something that could have been taken here in secret,” she continued, silencing herself as Snape walked past.

“Would you leave it? It’s not our problem,” Ron said. Ariadne laughed slightly - neither she nor Hermione could let go of a mystery once they’d found it. She deciphered the plate of roast lamb, peas and carrot and began eating. While both she and Hermione had been silenced by social pressure, she was certain that just like her, Hermione’s mind was ticking away at the problem. However, she had to admit the evidence was flimsy and it was quickly becoming a dead end. After a while, she was distracted by the nagging pain in her forehead as Quirrell’s staticky turban buzzed away as he sat at the head table. What was happening there?

“That’s not a very nice place to keep a dog, now that I think about it,” Hermione said quietly. “No wonder it was angry.” Ariadne had to agree. She knew what it was like to be locked in a cupboard, and if she had been the size of that dog, that room would have been a cupboard to her.

She hoped it was at least fed well. But given its reaction, she didn’t think so.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time, most of the scenes in this part of the movie seem to be quite short and since we so far haven’t diverged far we’re sticking to it - last one was just the two flying ones strung together with an intro.


	16. Dangerous Assumptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As requested, Ariadne and Hermione meet Professor McGonagall after dinner to go speak with Professor Dumbledore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so comes the Dumbledore-bashing section. xD  
> TW: Deadnaming, misgendering, abuse (mentioned via flashback)

Ariadne’s senses finally stopped folding in on themselves at the arrivals of dessert - the students at least tended to eat a lot of dessert, so the bowls kept getting refilled and every time one was made her nearly lose whatever was in her mouth at the time. Ron yawned through a mouthful and left, unceremoniously swinging back over the bench and she heard her cane tumble down from beside her. She felt around the floor with her foot for it, eventually finding it and propping it back up beside her.

“McGonagall looks like she’s done, maybe we should go,” Hermione said. The pit in her stomach solidified. The uncertainty and worry about what Dumbledore might want had made it difficult to eat in the first place, and she had been picking at her dinner and dessert. She took in one more spoonful of melted icecream and sighed. Today had been stressful enough meeting a gigantic three-headed dog, without a mostly mysterious chat with the Headmaster to worry about.

“Ugh. You’re right,” she replied, putting the spoon down. She didn’t know whose job it was to clear up the cutlery and plates but she tried to leave hers as neat as possible for them. She took a deep breath and stood, pulling her cane up and stepping back over the bench. “Let’s go.” The two weaved through the students who were slowly leaving the Hall for bed, her cane catching feet on occasion as she moved against the thin crowd. The cane met the shallow stairs at the front as McGonagall stood to meet them in the middle.

“Good evening, Ariadne, Hermione. I’m sure the two of you would like nothing better than to get this over with, so if you would follow me please,” McGonagall said, beginning to move away. She led the two slowly out of the Hall and out toward the Middle Courtyard, where Ariadne recognized the alcove within which a great magical statue stood. Evidently, this statue played some part in the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, as McGonagall made a beeline for it. “Ariadne, I suggest you stand there, it will save us some time if we simply ride the staircase.”

“Where?” Ariadne replied. She assumed she’d meant what appeared to be a rectangular patch of magic right next to the statue, but she wasn’t sure.

“Oh, my apologies.” McGonagall stood over it. “Over here.” Making sure she didn’t walk into the statue by holding her hand out, she stood atop the panel. “I’d recommend you hold onto the wing of the griffin, we don’t want you falling down.” Ariadne reached her hand out and felt for the statue, gripping it as tightly as she could. McGonagall stood beside her, and evidently beckoned Hermione to do the same as she followed. “Caramel cobwebs,” she said, as a gentle wave of magic cascaded forth and the stair beneath her shifted hue.

Ariadne held on tight as it began rotating upward into the chamber, which she for the first time realized had a far higher ceiling than the courtyard.

“Oh! It’s like an escalator!” Hermione exclaimed in wonder.

“I suppose it is,” McGonagall replied, as if she were trying to ease her own nerves as well as theirs. A few moments later, it came to a shuddering halt before a doorway. Beyond the door, Ariadne could hear voices, but couldn’t tell what was being said. “I will accompany you.” The professor pushed open the door, striding inside with confidence as Ariadne and Hermione followed.

The room was perhaps the most overwhelmingly magical place she’d ever been. Neither Diagon Alley nor any of the bewildering classrooms she’d so far visited compared. It was comprised of three main sections, with the entrance on the lowest which was adorned with various barred cabinets, all of which emanating a veritable kaleidoscope of strange patterns and colours. Many were networked, with strands of magic weaving across the room in some spots. The second level sported a couple of columns and a wide desk, behind which the powerful magic of Albus Dumbledore stood. The theme of chaotic magic continued here, with various devices adorning the desks and a magical animal of some description perched behind him. An owl, perhaps? Also towering over the desk was the immense form of Rubeus Hagrid, a name that now she thought about it was familiar. Not from his brief introduction at their arrival, it was something else.

Behind the desk level was another section which divided into a loft above and what looked like a sitting room. The magical menagerie of colours extended to the walls as well, as magical paintings hung in a surprisingly orderly pattern.

“Ah,” came the familiar voice calling across the desk. “Harry, Miss Granger, it is agreeable to see you.” Ariadne stopped, making sure her wince at her deadname was as visible as possible before she continued. “If the two of you don’t mind taking a seat, I’d first like to ensure you’re up to date on events. Professor McGonagall tells me she gave a brief rundown when she delivered young Miss Granger’s letter last year, however you deserve a slightly more detailed version,” Dumbledore said, standing and leaning on the side of his desk. “Your parents, Lily and James Potter were members of an organization involved in the war with Voldemort, The Order of the Phoenix. It was a sort of elite task force, but not strictly associated with the authorities. But in fairness, vigilante groups made up the majority of fighters. During the escalation of the war, Lily became pregnant - with you.” Ariadne tilted her head.

“Voldemort?” she asked.

“Ah. The Dark Wizard more commonly called He Who Must Not Be Named, or titles to that effect. I’ve always found the lingering taboo of his name rather bizarre. When Lily discovered she was pregnant, the Order came to the unanimous decision to take the pair off the front line and put them under protection - as prominent fighters in the war, their lives were at risk should they settle down without protection.” Dumbledore sighed.

“There was, however, a prophecy about your birth, Harry. That a boy born upon the thirty-first of July, born to those who had thrice defied him would bring about Voldemort’s final defeat. Both James and Lily had been involved in battles where Voldemort had graced the field personally, and when you were born a week early on the day in question, we knew our defences had to be increased; Voldemort knew of the prophecy too and would surely seek you out.” The old man stood up straight, turning to them more directly.

“Our defences of your parents and yourself held for a time, over a year. Eventually however, our secrets were betrayed by a traitor, and on the 31st of October the next year Voldemort himself breached the wards and paid a visit to Godric’s Hollow. By all evidence, James and Lily fought valiantly to defend you, Harry -”

“Ariadne,” she suddenly replied, cutting off the headmaster.

“I’m sorry?”

“My name... is Ariadne!” she nearly yelled, gritting her teeth. Faculty deadnaming her wasn’t new, it had run rife at primary school, but she had hoped for a more progressive headmaster.

“Harry was the name your parents gave you, I don’t see what’s so wrong about using it? You were named after-”

“I was  _ named _ after a Greek princess. I don’t care wh-wh-what my birth parents called me, I never knew them and Harry Potter is not my name. My name is Ariadne Granger, Harry Potter is some-someone else. And your prophecy’s wrong anyway, I’m not a boy,” she raised her voice indignantly at the mortifying platitude. “Stop calling me Harry.” She heard Hermione’s hands twisting the fabric of her robe in anxiety and her magic fluctuating. Dumbledore sighed.

“Very well,  _ Ariadne _ . By all evidence, James and Lily fought valiantly to defend you, but were cut down by Voldemort’s advance. You, however, survived despite the impossibility of your survival. Because of Lily’s sacrifice, she created a ward over you, which caused Voldemort’s curse to backfire upon himself. The love of your mother prevented your death,” he continued. “Upon our discovery of this, I was able to reinforce the wards placed upon you by your mother, wards based on your blood.” Ariadne’s spine began to run cold as she realized where he might be going with this. “Rubeus here was asked to bring you, therefore, immediately to the home of your closest remaining relatives, where those wards would best be reinforced. Make no mistake, much as Lord Voldemort had evidently perished, a thought I personally consider folly, his followers remained and in many cases remain at large to this day. Dark forces work even at this moment to kill the one who killed their master - you. Those wards serve to protect you as best can be done, which is why it is imperative that you return as soon as possible to the household of the Dursleys - the wards are maintained by living with family, so long as you can call that place home.”

Ariadne froze. The layout of the house burned into her mind once more, a house no doubt now devoid of magic to guide her. Dudley’s cruel cackle filled her ears as he sprayed bleach in her eyes, as Uncle Vernon yelled in her ear as he punched her in the gut for having a plaster. As Aunt Petunia berated her for her blindness, as if it were her fault. As Ripper chased her up a tree she couldn’t even see.

She was broken from the horror by a crash as Hermione stood up so quickly her chair fell back - her magic was chaotic and spiking, and Ariadne idly realized she hadn’t pushed it deliberately.

“You can’t just send her back there! She wasn’t even treated like a human being, I saw the results of what happened to her! When we first met her she was covered in bruises and scars, she was scared of people finding out she didn’t go to school and had never met anyone else her age other than her cousin! She had four broken ribs, and she’d never even been taken to a doctor let alone a hospital! She rolls around in bed every night with nightmares about them and you want to send her back?!” Hermione shrieked.

“The wards must be maintained by living with her blood, with her family in order for her to have protection-”

“I-ifififif-fi-if that were true I wouldn’t have needed protection  _ FROM _ them,” Ariadne snarled, cursing her stammer as half the words slurred together.

“Their actions have been abominable, but they were a necessary-” Dumbledore spluttered as Ariadne’s heartbeat in her ears almost overcame his voice.

“ _ Look me in the eyes and tell me it was worth my sight _ ,” she said coldly, pointing. “My eyes weren’t white when I arrived at that house, but they were when I left. You say I have to be with my family but I already live with my family. The family who rescued me,” she explained, somehow managing not to stammer.

“I too must protest this horrifying proposal!” McGonagall added. “I looked into the case of Ariadne’s removal from the Dursley household. She was kept in a cupboard and starved for even the slightest transgression against their tyranny, and as a result of the Grangers’ notification she was removed for her safety - Vernon Dursley in particular has been under house arrest for a number of years, and his sentence was extended upon the removal of Dudley Dursley from their household not two years later after his parents turned their viciousness upon him once their favourite  _ punching bag _ had been taken away!” Ariadne was surprised to hear that Vernon was under house arrest - she’d not heard of that, nor had she heard of what had happened to Dudley.

She had never expected to feel sorry for the boy who had blinded her, but in this moment she did.

To her right, Rubeus was crying.

“You gave ‘er to those great prunes and they did that to ‘er?!” he yelled through his tears at the Professor, taking everyone aback with the ferocity of the large man’s voice. “It’s an outrage! A scandal!”

Ariadne felt sick.

Dumbledore drew a ragged breath and almost growled.

“The wizarding world is searching for Harry Potter, should they find you those wards will be essential. Because of years of neglect, their status is-” Dumbledore waved his wand over Ariadne as a cone of emerald washed over her. Dumbledore jolted and stepped back.

He did it again. Again, he seemed to almost jump at what he found.

“Professor McGonagall, would you mind confirming these results?” he asked, in the most bewildered tone Ariadne had ever heard. McGonagall repeated the same process.

“It would seem the wards are perfectly functional, Professor Dumbledore,” she said curtly. “In fact, they are stronger now than they were when they were first established.”

“But that is impossible…” Dumbledore muttered.

“Sir, you said before that Ariadne’s mother’s love was what was protected her, yes?” Hermione asked.

“That is correct, and domestic proximity to one’s blood relatives reinforces this kind of ward.”

“Love. Not blood, love. As far as we’re concerned, Ariadne is my sister. We’re her family,”

“Of  _ course _ ,” McGonagall said. “She’s protected because where she calls home is the home of her family. Blood doesn’t matter, the wards are based on the principle of familial love. Not blood ties. And because her family has supported her so, both in her rescue and her transition - did I get that right, transition, yes? - and because she is able to siphon a sort of bonus from Hogwarts as her sister also attends, the wards are exceptionally powerful.” Ariadne nodded at the terminology as her mind was aflame with thoughts. While it had never been her true opinion, she’d never been able to shake the tiny voice in the back of her head that said she didn’t belong with the Grangers, that she wasn’t their family. With this confirmation that she was most definitely their family, that voice had finally been quelled.

Dumbledore stood for a moment, breathing. His magic was almost ticking away, working at something. He slowly strode back to the chair at his desk, sitting down.

“If that… issue… has been resolved, then I believe Rubeus has something for you,” he said, slipping back into the shell of professionality. Rubeus stepped forward, still sniffing as the sound of his great hands reaching into his coat filled the room.

“Right, er, it’s only little. Aha!” he produced something that bore only the faintest glimmer of magic, small but thin. “The key to the Potter vault at Gringotts. Still waiting for ye,” he handed the key over, dropping it into Ariadne’s palm. “Quite the fortune you’ve got there young lass. Don’t spend it all in one place,” he said with happiness filling his voice again. “You’ll have to go to Gringotts in Diagon Alley, that’s in London. Be mindful of the goblins, they’re strange beasts.”

“Hardly,” Hermione interrupted him. “They’re perfectly fine once you get to know them. We’ve been, beasts isn’t exactly a charitable description given they’re people.”

“Oh. Right. Just go in there and tell them you’d like to make a withdrawal from your vault.” Rubeus almost seemed taken aback by that. Ariadne carefully pocketed the key. “Oh and uh.” The gigantic man pulled Ariadne into a hug, which had he been squeezing she was certain would kill her, if she didn’t smother in his coat. “I’m so sorry. I was the one took you there, it should never have happened. Never.”  _ That _ was where the name was familiar from, McGonagall had mentioned him. He sniffed again. “Merlin you were tiny. No bigger than a bowtruckle, you were. It was like you didn’t even know what had happened, nary a scratch on ya but that thunderbolt on your forehead.” He put her down and ruffled her hair, which she swore had started to stick up from static.

“It’s late, I’ll escort you to your dormitory. Good evening, headmaster,” McGonagall said, almost seeming hostile in her bidding of goodnight to Dumbledore. Hermione’s core remained a bit chaotic and anxious for the rest of the evening, as Ariadne struggled to wrestle her stomach and heartbeat back into compliancy. Despite the horrifying things Dumbledore had suggested, she was safe, and after an extended hug from a non-verbal Hermione, she rolled under her covers to await their third day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As her stomach growled, she wished she’d eaten more at dinner, but resigned herself to the hunger either way.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It never sat well with me that Harry Potter, a character defined by fighting a blood purist… is protected for most of his life by his blood. I mean come on. Found family over blood family, fuck yeah.


	17. Nasty Little Buggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne gets her first session of basic Quidditch training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s have something nice happen to Ariadne for once, eh?

The school week droned on as Ariadne did her best to retain the learning without notes or recordings. Potions once again, as well as their first Defence Against the Dark Arts and Astronomy lessons - while she hadn’t gotten an opportunity to ask Quirrell about the odd magic on his head, which had given her a splitting headache by the end of the class, she liked the unassuming professor. Astronomy, however, was a nightmare for different reasons. A class attended well after dark at the top of the tallest tower as yawns filled the room, Professor Sinistra seemed to hold no pity for Ariadne’s blindness, huffing at her lack of her own telescope and her lateness caused by the sheer number of stairs she’d had to climb. Unlike McGonagall, she was making no efforts to convert her materials into Braille. Ariadne knew that at this rate she would fail Astronomy simply because she was prevented from participating and made sure to speak to McGonagall about it; McGonagall however was making good progress toward accessible documentation, and had made a proof-of-concept sheet that Ariadne had read back to her - it had a few spelling errors, more due to improper spacing than anything else, and McGonagall had taken her feedback with grace. She did lament however that it had taken her over an hour just to create the sheet which consisted of only a few sentences, and that the creation of more would be a long and arduous process.

Finally, however, the weekend arrived and Ariadne welcomed the opportunity to relax. She was glad to know that the rampant speculation among wizarding media about the no-show of Harry Potter had largely died down, and was no longer dominating the Hall. Instead, students gossipped about their classmates, talked about the assignments they had due and sporting events at lunch - apparently the Holyhead Harpies had beaten the Appleby Arrows by a sizeable margin at Quidditch, and Ariadne had to admit that the tales of their strategies was interesting. If she was to do well as Gryffindor’s Seeker, she needed to know these things. She kept note of one thing in particular - catching the Snitch, which she was told was her job, was not an automatic win if the team was too far behind.

“It never really happens in school games though; catching the Snitch gets you 150 points, it’s really rare to be so far behind that it isn’t an instant win,” Ron said through a mouthful of bread, sauce and sausage. Almost on cue, Ariadne sensed the approach of a familiar figure - Oliver Wood.

“Hey Ariadne! Was wondering, are you free today?” he asked cheerfully.

“Yeah, can’t really study very well right now so, yeah. What did you need?” she asked, smiling before abruptly realizing she wasn’t actually looking at him and turning.

“Nothing too much, I thought it might be wise to bring you up to speed on the basics of Quidditch before training next week. Interested?” He replied. “Training’s on Thursdays, by the way, you didn’t miss it because it wasn’t on last week but it’s weekly as of now.”

“Yeah, sure!” Ariadne stood excitedly. “Whoop-” she had knocked her cane down again, dammit. “Thursdays, got it.” She began feeling for it before Wood knelt and picked it up.

“There you go.”

“Thanks Oliver. You couldn’t have timed it better, we were just talking about the Harpies’ win.” Oliver groaned.

“Don’t remind me. Arrows fan. Anyway, we should go grab a spare broom for you and the ball crate and get going while the sun’s not too low. Might not bother you but I prefer to do my flying when it’s still light out,” Wood said, shuffling back a little as he spoke.

“Okay! Gonna have to go, see ya Hermione!”

“Wait! Actually, I might go to the library and get out a book or two on Quidditch for us to read later if you like!” Hermione jolted. Oliver chuckled.

“Excellent idea, Hermione, wasn’t it? Ariadne’s lucky to have you.”

“See you ‘Adne!” Ariadne followed Wood as he strode from the hall, making sure she kept pace as best she could. He led her first to an antechamber in one of the outer wings, where Ariadne saw a bank of brooms on racks, as well as a number of crates.

“All right, let’s grab a spare set as well as a broom for you. I’ll need your help carrying the crate, can you do that with your cane?” he said.

“Yup, she replied. “What about my broom?”

“Oh I can carry that for you.” Wood took a broom from the shelf and strode back over to the boxes. She leant down and found the handle of the crate, wrapping the fingers of her left hand around it. “And lift with your knees!” she strained as she picked up the crate, before Wood took more of the weight. “All right, off we go, it’s not too far don’t worry.” Once again, they walked to the large field area where her first flying lesson had taken place, but as she walked she realized it wasn’t Wood shaking the box - something inside was doing it.

“Quidditch is easy enough to understand,” Wood said as they walked out onto the grass. “Each team has seven players, three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper and a Seeker. That’s you.” Ariadne nodded along as Wood stopped eventually and lowered the box. Kneeling down, Wood unlatched the box and revealed its interior. The box itself had been inhabited by magic for long enough it was mostly illuminated. The outline of a ball marked with inset sections sat in the middle, flanked by two enraged blobs of red. From the obscurations on three sides, they were chained in and she quickly saw that these two were the source of the shaking. Wood picked up the middle ball, which quickly became invisible to her.

“There are three kinds of balls.” Wood had evidently tossed the ball to her as it hit her in the chest. “Right, sorry.” He picked it up and handed it to her. “This one’s the Quaffle. Now the Chasers handle the Quaffle and try to put it through one of those three hoops.” Ariadne mentally squinted, seeing far in the distance three very weak magical rings. She guessed that that was where the Quidditch pitch was. “The Keeper, that’s me, defends the hoops. With me so far?”

“Yup,” Ariadne replied, tossing it back to him. “I can’t see that one but… what are those?!” She pointed her head down toward the angry spheres jostling in their restraints.

“Ah.” Wood put the Quaffle back. “You can see them, yeah?” She nodded. 

“Those, I would see a mile away.”

“You’d better take this,” he said, handing her what felt like a bat. Swinging it back and forth, it had a hefty weight to it. Wood knelt once again, releasing the right one.

It immediately rocketed up into the sky with a vengeance, before slowing and bending back down again.

“Careful, it’s coming back.” Ariadne braced her legs - she’d never hit anything with a bat before. She took a step back and as the vicious ball tore down toward her she swung her arm wildly and, with a satisfying THWACK, the red dot ricocheted away. “Not bad Granger. You’d make a fair Beater.” The growling ball swung back over the wall it had vanished behind, behind her.

“It’s coming back,” she said, turning.

“Uh oh,” Wood said, half a second before it slammed into him. Instead of trying to hit it away, he took the hit and rolled to the ground with the ball beneath him as it furiously shook around. Over the course of a dozen seconds, Wood struggled with the ball in his grip as it tried to lift off, before with a grunt he shoved it back into its casing and did up the latch.

“What  _ was _ that?” Ariadne asked.

“That. Was a Bludger. Nasty little buggers. You can see those things when they’re behind you, can you?” he asked.

“Yeah. The magic thing isn’t with my eyes, I don’t know how it works.” Wood chuckled.

“Might not need as much Beater support if you can see those coming in any direction. Now you, are a Seeker,” he said, leaning forward and prying open a small compartment, within which was a purple speck - surprisingly powerful, given its size and the Bludger. The Bludger had been angry but weak, but this tiny thing was like a beacon. “The only thing I want you to worry about is this. The Golden Snitch.” He carefully passed it over.

“I like this one. It’s purple for me though,” she laughed.

“Pfff. You like it  _ now _ . It’s wicked fast and damn near impossible to see.”

“Ha. Not for me, this one’s even brighter than the Bludger. This is the one I catch?”

“Yep. Before the other team’s Seeker. You catch this, the game’s over. You catch this, we win.” The ball resting in her open palm began shivering, as two flecks of magic protruded from its sides and started to vibrate. Wings.

It leapt up with a metallic fluttering sound as Ariadne kept her proverbial eyes locked onto it. Wood, from the sound of it, was looking around and couldn’t tell where it had gone.

“Woah.” It shot away from her, or it tried to - it flitted over her shoulder and like lightning, she caught it as it curved behind her head. Wood jumped at her sudden movement before he began cackling.

“Let’s not tell the other team that you’ve got eyes in the back of your head, eh?” he laughed. “Now, since you can’t see the Quaffle, you’re going to need to pay close attention to the score by what the commentator says, got it? In the rare occasion scores go high, a Snitch catch might not be a win.”

“That’s what happened to the Arrows, the Harpies were two hundred points up and the snitch catch was to stop them getting any higher,” Ariadne said. “Still lost by fifty points, snitch is one fifty, yeah?”

“Yeah. Usually it won’t come up, but keep it in mind if the opposition is pulling too far ahead. In that scenario the best thing to do is try to prevent the opposition Seeker from catching it.” Ariadne nodded. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d do that, she thought maybe by trying to sit between them and the Snitch if she knew where it was. “Now you’ve got your head around that, let’s see how your flight is. I’m told you did well in your first lesson but there’s more to flying than that.” She stepped over to the broom they’d put down, and held her cane out to Wood.

“Hold that for me would you?”

“Sure thing,” he said, taking it. She stooped down to pick up the broom, and almost magnetically it jumped into her hand as the tether between her and it formed. After she’d mounted her broom and was hovering in the air around Wood, he started walking around.

“Okay, we’re gonna start off by having- wait hold on.” She watched him take his wand out and began casting spells - one by one, several cones lit up. “We’re gonna start off by having you run a course around these, see how you are at changing direction.” One by one, Wood put her through a number of flying drills more advanced than the brief flying lessons she’d had. It took her a few attempts to figure it out, but eventually she got the hang of it. Eventually, Wood told her to come back down.

“Now, something quite interesting. Most people aren’t very good at changing direction, especially not early but you’ve got it pretty well. In fact, you’re almost zig-zagging rather than turning, is that because you can see in every direction so you don’t have to fly exclusively forward?” Wood said as she touched down and stumbled a little.

“I.. I guess, is-is that not normal?” Ariadne asked, confused.

“No, most people fly more fluidly. Might come in handy, actually. Mind popping back up a sec?” Ariadne kicked back off. “All right, something to try. I’ve never tried this before, could you try moving like, side to side?” She wiggled a bit. “How quickly can you do that?”

She paused.

Then she held on for dear life as the broom took in her instruction and almost buzzed between the two points.

“Oh wow, pretty quick. Don’t make yourself sick now. That’s pretty interesting, as I said could come in handy. But for now, shall we run through those courses again but this time try not to go side to side too much, try steering rather than that shunting thing. It’s a good thing that you can do that, it’ll be good for avoiding Bludgers, but when you’re trying to catch the Snitch you need speed and steering’s a lot better in that department.” Wood said, thinking a bit.

They ran through the courses again, Ariadne finding it a bit hard to maneuver without ‘shunting,’ but eventually wrapping her head around it. Once Wood was satisfied, they trained a bit with a Bludger - he assured her it was in a training mode and wouldn’t hit her hard, but it didn’t look any less angry. It tapped her a few times, but after only a few minutes she was dodging with a near complete success rate. Out of curiosity, Wood started hitting it toward her from other directions including behind her and was ecstatic that she could anticipate its approach just as well.

“All right,” Wood said as Ariadne caught her breath and stood in front of him. “Now I’m going to release the Snitch, I’m gonna have you wait for a minute or two so it can get some distance and then see how you do. I dunno if it’s how it works but maybe see if you can not look at it while it goes.” That wasn’t how it worked, but she did her best not to think about it. The two stood for a bit, Ariadne fidgeting a little.

“Go!” Wood exclaimed, and she jumped into the air. Elated at flight, she span a bit before casting her vision about. The Snitch  _ was _ small, so it didn’t necessarily stick out. She peered through the darkness for the little purple glimmer as she idly saw Wood move toward the crate.

The crate opened again, and she frowned.

The greebling shriek of a Bludger rocketed past her as Wood released one.

“Stay on your toes!” he yelled as she pirouetted away from the enraged ball. Her attention was forced to dart between the red sparkle of the assailant ball as well as searching for the Snitch.

The Bludger slowed from its first charge and began its second. Ariadne watched its approach from ahead of her. Twenty metres. Ten metres. Five.

She shunted to the right as quickly as she could, her hair flailing around as she returned to her hover point. She frantically searched for the tiny purple ball as it overshot her.

There.

She shot off in a diagonal direction, correcting her flight to align with the broom as she shot toward the ball. Luckily the walls here were short, and close enough to the ground to gently sparkle with magic and she swooped down toward it. The ball fled as she approached, but it wasn’t fast enough. She willed her broom into a charge as she leant forward, one arm outstretched toward it.

The Bludger was coming back to her left. She jumped over its third charge and kept closing the gap with the Golden Snitch.

Three metres.

Two.

One.

The feathery ball filled her hand and stopped struggling, the wings retracting as she swung around to return to Wood, who was jumping up and down.

“Well done Granger! Never seen a first-time Seeker trainee get it that quick, that was phenomenal!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice little reprieve from difficulties, eh? As a treat.


	18. You're Saying it Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charms class yields some good news and some bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just finished properly laying out my plans for the rest of Philosopher’s Stone (I have general plans as well as specific ones, the general ones are all the way into Prisoner of Azkaban), so hopefully no real delays for a while. Uni break week too, so I’ve got plenty of time to spit out fic.  
> TW: Dysphoria mention, bullying.

Ariadne was bemused to find that she had inadvertently acquired fame entirely separate of the Harry Potter mythos. Over the past several weeks, she’d been finding herself greeted by so many more people who inexplicably knew her name, and she knew why. After the initial rumours, she’d heard the ghosts talking but nothing substantial. Now that she’d been seen at Quidditch training a dozen times, it was official. She was on the Quidditch team, and with their first game rapidly approaching Wood had upped the training regimen from once a week to thrice. She was glad of the distraction from her academic obstacles, even now that McGonagall had made sure most of her teachers were providing Braille readings on a regular basis. She was also sure she was in better shape, the regular exercise helped offset her truly awful eating habits now that she wasn’t under the thumb of two dentists. That had its own anxieties, and she couldn’t help but shake the dysphoric voice at the back of her head saying it might make her look like a boy. She pushed that to the back of her mind as best she could, reminding herself how silly it was.

She hoped she’d be able to concentrate today - the match was tomorrow, and she couldn’t help but run through strategy and formations Wood had nailed into her head as she ate.

The newfound fame wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Malfoy and his cronies had been quick to latch onto how Gryffindor’s new Seeker was blind, insinuating she would fail miserably even though he’d been the one to spur her demonstration that she wouldn’t. After years of people tripping her in primary school, this was almost funny.

“We’d better go to Charms, Flitwick’s hard on punctuality,” Hermione said as Ariadne wolfed down her lunch.

“So are you,” Ariadne laughed.

“Ha. True,” her sister replied. “Come on, let’s go.” The pair made their way from the hall, Ariadne finding herself gaining far more attention than she was comfortable with. Everyone seemed to know her now, and she knew it would only get worse if they found out she was the Potter child. They meant well, all asking how her day was going and saying ‘hi’, but she felt watched now, always watched.

Reaching the Charms classroom, they had been held up by a few other students asking about her day and few seats were left. Hermione sat next to Ron, while Ariadne sat by Flitwick next to Seamus.

“Oh hey Ariadne. Never really got to say hi, I’m Seamus,” he said as Ariadne leant her cane against the desk.

“Oh. Hi.” She sat down awkwardly, not really knowing how to react. Mercifully, the short figure of Professor Flitwick climbed up onto the dais and cleared his throat.

For the first hour of class, Flitwick started off by going over their last lesson and the basic wand motions of the spells they were studying. Despite the enthusiasm of some students, Flitwick was emphatic about not actually casting the spell. While Ariadne was paying intense attention, it seemed Seamus wasn’t by how he was wildly flailing his glimmering unicorn hair wand. She had to admit, she was impatient to learn the spells too. This was mostly theory that she and Hermione had studied for the year before attending, and she knew it all already.

Eventually, Flitwick piped back up again.

“Now. One of the wizard’s most rudimentary skills is levitation, or the ability to make objects fly. Er, do you all have your feathers? Yes, good.” He took out his wand. “Now uh, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing - the swish and flick. Everyone. Swish and flick. Good. And  _ enunciate _ . Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go then,” Flitwick said. Ariadne looked around, seeing everyone beginning as a chorus of poorly pronounced “ _ wingardium leviosa _ ” filled the room and tried to get Flitwick’s attention.

“Pr-p-professor? I can’t see my feather, will that be a problem?” she asked.

“Oh, not to worry dear, one moment.” Flitwick flourished his wand and the feather lit up - from Seamus’ reaction, evidently not just for her.

“Woah! Yours is glowing! How come?” he asked.

“I can see magic, I can see the feather when it’s enchanted,” she replied. Down the row, Ron was immediately frustrated.

“Wingardrium Leviosah!” she heard him declare, waving his wand correctly first and then almost whacking it against the feather while Hermione jumped.

“Stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstop, you’re going to take someone’s eye out. Besides, you’re saying it wrong, it’s levi-O-sa, not levio-SA,” Ariadne heard Hermione tell him.

“You do it then if you’re so clever!” Ron retorted. “Go on, go on!” Hermione turned, and with perfect pronunciation and wand motion performed the spell. A familiar warbling golden arm reached out and grasped her feather, quickly ascending and flitting about with her wand’s movements.

“Oh well done!” Flitwick exclaimed. “See here everyone! Miss Granger’s done it! Splendid.” Ariadne looked down at her feather.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she incanted, flicking her wand at her own glowing feather. In short order, she too had a warbling yellow arm holding a feather aloft.

“Oh excellent, both of the Grangers. Well done Ariadne.”

“Wingard leviosa!” Seamus chanted, “Wingard-”

“Nono,  _ wingardium _ ,” Ariadne corrected him before as she watched his prickly orange magic begin to build incorrectly.

\--

The class had gone well, and Ariadne was glad to have added a new spell to her inventory. As she packed the Braille reading Flitwick had given her into her bag and stood, Flitwick hopped down from his dais and flitted over to her table.

“Oh, Miss Granger, if you don’t mind sticking behind a moment. I had some thoughts regarding the situation of your materials, the Braille conversion can be a little, uh, unreliable and takes quite a while. The feather reminded me of it - you can see magic, yes?” Flitwick said as Hermione hovered over. Ariadne nodded. “Logically therefore, if provided with a magical ink, you’d be able to read it. Magical inks tend to have cosmetic alterations which make them, er, less than utilitarian, but I may be able to concoct some enchanted ink which is legible to both non-blind people and yourself. If you would appreciate that?” A shock went through Ariadne’s spine. Of  _ course _ . She cursed herself for never having looked for something like that at Diagon Alley.

“I- I-yes! Yes, absolutely!” she exclaimed. “How soon?”

“It depends - most magical inks tend to quickly fade or bleed into illegibility, I’ll need to find a solution that remains both legible and enchanted for long enough to be useful to you. Give me a few weeks, I’ll most likely have a prototype by then,” Flitwick replied. Ariadne bobbed on the spot in joy.

“Thank you! Thanks Professor!” 

“Think nothing of it Miss Granger. The success of my students is my responsibility, and anything that would make studying easier for you is a worthwhile process. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to some things,” Flitwick responded cheerfully.

“Thanks Professor!” Hermione too called as the pair left the now empty classroom, smiling widely. Ariadne almost skipped, at least as close an approximation as she could without making it impossible to probe which manifested as a sort of bobbing gait. “That’s wonderful! I’ve got a few quills you can use if it works, I don’t use them,” Hermione said. Hermione had found the feeling of a quill running across parchment horrible, comparing it to the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard but all up her arm and as such had simply brought a pack of ballpoint pens. They’d long since found that when it came to Hermione’s sensory complaints, it was usually best to accommodate them. She did however tend to idly disassemble the pens when they weren’t in use and a few were broken. Ariadne, reminded of the pens, made a mental note to see if there was such a thing as a magic fidget toy to get for her over Christmas.

“Thanks Hermione. Let’s go catch up with Ron if we can, yeah?” Hermione hummed in agreement as they picked up the pace, following the glimmer of their friend walking with some classmates in the distance through the archway. However, as they approached, Ariadne’s ears pricked up at his voice.

“‘It’s leviOOOOOOsa, not levioSAAAAAAA. She’s a nightmare, honestly! No wonder she hasn’t got any friends,” Ron said loudly. Hermione had clearly heard too as her magic jumped into a chaotic state. “And her sister’s the same! Wouldn’t leave Seamus alone!” As her face flushed, Hermione’s magic only escalated into anxiety and a whimpering sound escaped her lips before she almost started running, shoulder checking Ron as she went past. Worried, Ariadne was glad of the magic-coated floor and walls as she followed as fast as she could - Hermione would have been long gone if she had had to fully probe her way. She passed Ron only a few moments later, shooting a disgusted look in his direction.

“I think they heard you,” she heard Seamus say. “And Ariadne was only helping, you dick. So was Hermione.” Ariadne was briefly glad to hear Seamus defending them, but she quickly left earshot as she tried to keep up with her sister.

She was lucky that Hermione hadn’t elected to ascend any stairs in her flight from the courtyard. Instead, she had made her way to the currently deserted first floor girls’ bathroom. As Ariadne reached the room, she couldn’t see Hermione - instead, she could hear her crying coming from the first stall.

“Hermione?” she asked, knocking on its side wall. Hermione didn’t respond, but there was a brief hitch in her crying. She must have gone nonverbal, Ariadne realized. It wasn’t uncommon for the both of them in times of stress and emotional turmoil, but not as frequent for Ariadne - they’d find themselves overwhelmed and simply incapable of speech. In Ariadne’s case it was more often a fear response, most likely a hold-over from her time with the Dursleys they believed. However, Hermione’s were more general to strong emotion. It wasn’t only negative emotions like fear and grief, she’d been so happy she couldn’t talk a few times that Ariadne had been there for, but today was most definitely a negative one. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

Hermione responded by knocking back, three times. In their little system they’d set up for such events, that was ‘I don’t know.’

“Would you like me to stay here?”

One knock.  _ Yes _ . Ariadne sat down against the stall wall. She’d have to wait it out until Hermione could talk again to properly help. Hermione also wasn’t the only one crying - Seamus’ indignant reaction to Ron’s behaviour had offset it, but there were definitely still tears and sniffs on Ariadne’s end.

And so she waited.

After a bit, Ariadne jumped as the door opened and someone came in. It was one of their dorm-mates, Parvati. Hermione tried to silence herself. An awkward silence surrounded them as Parvati took a stall and went about her business. As she dried her hands, she stopped.

“Oh hey Ariadne. What’re you doing there?” she asked.

“Um.” Ariadne pointed behind her at the closed stall.

“Oh. Is she okay?” Ariadne shrugged. “Well, dinner’s up soon, should go over,” Parvati said before leaving.

“Do you wanna go to dinner?” Ariadne asked after a moment or two.

Two knocks.  _ No _ .

After maybe half an hour had passed, Ariadne was broken from her contemplations by Hermione abruptly opening the stall door. She stepped out gingerly as her magic came into view and sat down, still crying, beside Ariadne. Ariadne tentatively touched her shoulder before, after she seemed to react positively, leaning into a partial hug.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Ariadne murmured, rubbing Hermione’s arm. It took a while before she regained the ability to speak and spoke again, but she finally did and Ariadne’s heart sank at what she said.

“I thought Ron  _ was _ our friend,” Hermione whimpered. “But he hates us.” Ariadne struggled to find a response to that, particularly one that contradicted her. “And he’s right, we  _ don’t _ have any friends. It’s just like last year.”

“I me- I- I me-mean, we’re not  _ close _ to anyone but Seamus didn’t seem to like what he said,” Ariadne replied.

“Huh?”

“As we left he called Ron a dick for saying that.” Hermione’s magic tangibly calmed at that, but she was still crying. “And Parvati cares, she asked if you were okay.”

“But we don’t have any  _ friends _ ,” she said after a pause. “There’s people who don’t hate us but nobody talks to us.” Ariadne sighed.

“Let’s change that. Parvati said dinner’s on, there’s probably still dessert at least. Let’s see if we can join in on conversation, I know it’s not easy but let’s try.” She heard Hermione nod.

“Mhmm.” Ariadne stood and held her hand down, which Hermione took.

“Let’s go make some friends.”

As Hermione let herself be pulled back up, the ground shook.

“What was that?” she asked. It happened again.

“I don’t know,” Ariadne replied, turning. As she approached the door, she found herself faced with a towering, if dim, magical figure as its footsteps slammed into the doorway.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I’d give Seamus some better characterization than ‘kid who blows stuff up.’ Troll scene to be continued >:)


	19. Remorseful Rescues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troooooooll! In the dungeons!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see how this goes.  
> Will she manage to post two chapters in one day? Dare she?! Turns out, yes.  
> Don’t get used to it :P

Ariadne had no idea what  _ that _ was. It had a dim sort of magical aura to it, but unlike a person it was about three times as tall. Its footfalls had slammed their way into the girls’ bathroom and it was now standing before the pair, its deep inhuman voice throbbing through the floor in a groaning baritone. No words, just grunts.

She backed up, hoping her senses were accurate about the layout of the room. Hermione backed up as well, and the creature advanced, great thuds filling her ears. Ariadne’s back hit the wooden stalls with Hermione on her right.

The gigantic form reared back, and both girls panicked. Both jumped to their right, but as Ariadne let go of Hermione’s hand to reopen the stall, Hermione fled. With her blood pumping through her ears so loud her heartbeat was equal in volume to the gigantic thumping footsteps of whatever this was, she swung open the stall door as Hermione’s magic retreated, and cowered within. It was only when she’d closed the door again when she realized her sister was not in there with her.

“Hermione?!” she cried.

“Get out of -  _ THERE _ !” Hermione yelled, right before a thunderous crashing noise erupted around Ariadne as a club which was entirely invisible to her clove through the bank of stalls and Ariadne screamed. She was flattened by the barrage of wood shards, nails, and plank bits that immediately piled on top of her. Lost amongst the cacophony was the slamming noise of the door opening.

“Ariadne, move!” Hermione shrieked. As she raised her head, she saw not only the colours of Hermione peeking out under the shredded stall walls, but also the chaotic yellows and blues of Ronald Weasley. Clutching her cane in her hand, she began crawling forward toward her sister on the other side of the room from Ron, right before the club swung again, turning the stalls she was crawling through into playground bark as she flattened in terror once again.

“Help!” she screamed, struggling to move from the weight of the wood covering her. She watched Ron’s magic begin jumping about, and the sounds of wood being chucked at the entity filled the air.

“Hey! Pea-brain!” Ron yelled.  _ Clunk _ .  _ Huh?? _ The gigantic form almost seemed to turn toward Ron, and Ariadne purposefully began shuffling along the ground behind it toward Hermione.

“ _ HUARGH! _ ” she’d been spotted, and once again Hermione ran, this time toward Ron and around the enraged creature. Ariadne shrieked as a torrent of wind blew her hair from her face as its club smashed downward toward her and shattered what must have been several mirrors and sinks.

It seemed it was her turn to be overwhelmed, as she instinctively curled up into a ball to protect herself.

Ron sprinted forward with his wand out as it roared at her, before he was unexpectedly catapulted up into the air. As he dropped onto what must have been the creature’s shoulders, Ariadne rolled backward and screamed as the club smashed into the ground right beside her - from the movement, Ron had ridden the club. To her relief, the creature was now distracted from her, now focused on the errant Weasley. It roiled from side to side, forward and back, pitching and yawing like a sailing ship on a truly stormy sea. Ron flailed about and a squelching sound accompanied Ron’s wand leaving his hand.

This only angered the gigantic entity towering over her. It shook again, harder and faster as Ron held on for dear life, wailing. Ron lost his grip, his core swinging out and in front of the creature. Held aloft, Ariadne realized.

“Help!” Ron cried as he ducked upward to dodge the club which swiped the air beneath his hair.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa! _ ” Hermione yelled, the signature wavy arm shooting forward and grasping the club which was now illuminated for Ariadne. She tugged it from its grasp as it was swung back over the vast thing’s head, and Ariadne saw Ron once again bounce up instinctively, despite no club being present.

“Huh?” the thing’s voice vibrated through the floor as the dimmest of intelligences detected a discrepancy. Just as it must have looked up, Hermione flicked her wand and sent the club plummeting at far more speed than it would have fallen at, impacting the creature’s head with a sickening crunch.

“Nice one Hermione!” Ron yelled as the now wobbling entity dropped him back to the floor. The creature stumbled on its feet, thumping through Ariadne’s gut as she was only more overwhelmed. It lost its footing, it too plummeting downward and smashing onto the floor at Hermione’s feet as Ron shuffled back from it as fast as he could.

“Oh my god,” Hermione exclaimed, rushing around the massive form over to Ariadne and immediately hugging her as she began to shakily stand. “Are you all right?!”

Ariadne could only make a slight murmuring noise in response and nod as her entire body shivered.

“Is it… dead?” Hermione asked of nobody in particular. Ariadne vigorously shook her head. She could still see its dim magical core.

“I-msammmmmmmm.” She frowned at herself. “Not dead. Jus’ sleep,” she said simply. It was the best she could do in the moment.

“Ugh!” Ron picked his wand back up, accompanied by just about the most disgusting sound Ariadne had ever heard. Hermione retched.

“That’s revolting!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Troll bogeys,” Ron replied, evidently wiping the disgusting substance from his wand on his robes. Ariadne jumped as three more people ran into the room, Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell respectively.

“Ohh - oh my goodness! Wha-tyou-  _ Explain yourselves! _ ” McGonagall cried. Hermione spluttered before Ron unexpectedly piped up.

“It’s my fault, Professor,” he said, remorsefully. Both Hermione and Ariadne looked at him quizzically.

“Mister Weasley?”

“I. I. I said some things. Awful things, I’m so so sorry you two. At dinner, Neville said that Parvati said that Hermione and Ariadne had been down here crying, I knew it must be because of what I said, and then they weren’t at dinner and-” Ron said, figuring out what to say as he went. “They didn’t know there was a troll on the loose and… Merlin I thought I’d got them killed,” he quavered. “I couldn’t just go to the dorm and leave them here. Hermione did most of the work though. If she hadn’t got its club, we’d all be dead.”

“Mister Finnegan mentioned what you said. I am incredibly disappointed by your behaviour, Mister Weasley, and given their respective reactions I believe you owe these two a substantial apology. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor, for your serious lack of respect.” McGonagall said sternly. “As for you, Miss Granger. Not many first-year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale! Ten points will be awarded to you, for timely application of skills learnt in the classroom.” McGonagall retreated, followed after a momentary pause by Snape. With only Quirrell remaining in the room, Ariadne found herself quickly acquiring a headache and began shuffling toward the door.

“P...p-perhaps you ought to go. O--r it might wake up, hehe!” Quirrell said, slurring the final sentence a little and laughing it off. The three students hurried from the room, Ariadne forgetting to probe with her cane in her anxiety. Behind them, the troll snored and Quirrell jumped, shouting. She rubbed her head as her attention was abruptly drawn back to the staticky Professor and her scar spiked in pain.

“Ughh, god, I am so sorry. I really was being a complete prat wasn’t I?” Ron said, slowing as they walked.

“That’s one word for it. I can think of a few more,” Hermione retorted.

“Of course you can, you’re smarter than me,” Ron said in what was initially a rude tone. “And you know what? If you weren’t smarter than me, we’d be dead. I guess you were right anyway - gotta know how to say it right.” Ariadne was still nonverbal, so she merely tilted her head in a semi-smug gesture. “I’m really sorry. You’re not a nightmare and you were just trying to help. Seamus was actually really happy to have you there too, Ariadne.” For the first time, Ariadne saw  _ Ron _ ’s magic in an anxious state.

\--

After an awkward walk back and a rest in the Common Room - during which McGonagall stopped by personally to make sure Ariadne and Hermione ate after missing dinner - eventually most of the kids had gone to bed. After Ron left, to Ariadne’s surprise, Seamus walked over.

“Hey Ariadne, Hermione. I know what Ron said really hurt you, did he actually apologize or nah?” the boy said as he sat down opposite then. Hermione made an unsure sound.

“He’s got some making up to do, but he at least did apologize,” Hermione said. Ariadne had to admit, the fact Ron hadn’t come to his conclusion on his own took some of the sincerity away, but she was at least happy he’d been able to be convinced.

“Oh thank Merlin,” Seamus sighed. “I been trying to get him to all afternoon, he can be a real dick. I’ll let you go to bed, gotta get plenty of sleep! Quidditch tomorrow!”

Ariadne’s eyes widened purposelessly as it hit her.

She’d been so concerned for Hermione and then freaked out by the troll that she’d forgotten Quidditch.

It was the next day.

_ Oh Merlin… _

What if she screwed it up? What if Slytherin won? What if she made a fool of herself?! Malfoy’s taunting over the concept of a blind Seeker echoed in her mind as she lay awake in the four-poster bed.

She sure did need plenty of sleep, as Seamus had said. She didn’t get it though, and she awoke the next morning with her eyelids and yawns heavy and her heart in her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The action-y scenes tend to give short chapters, so that’s probably a factor in me banging this out so quick.


	20. Match Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a sleepless night following troll attacks and apologies, Ariadne is stressed by the approach of her first Quidditch match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s kinda funny to me that we go from troll attack directly to Quidditch, ngl. She really don’t get a break does she?

Ariadne was on autopilot, and it was six o’clock in the morning. Her mind was elsewhere as she brushed her teeth - before breakfast, not that she realized - with only momentary thought to make sure she spat the foam of her toothpaste out into the sink and not the bench. She made her way back up the stairs slowly, her mind elsewhere.

She was going to die.

Not from the troll, no that didn’t matter anymore.

Quidditch was going to kill her. A Bludger to the head, thrown off her broom - her broom hadn’t arrived. Her blood went cold as that fact filled her head. She was going to have to use a spare broomstick.

There was no way in hell she could beat Slytherin’s Seeker to the Golden Snitch on a spare broomstick.

She groaned and held her head in her hands as she paused buttoning up her blouse. The dorm was quiet, save for the gentle crackling of the heater in the centre of the room, which was starting to run out, and the occasional snoring and shuffling of her dormmates within their sheets. She finished getting dressed and fished the backpack she’d brought from home at the start of term out of her trunk. Beside her bed lay, folded neatly, what she put into it - her Quidditch uniform. 

Waking up as early as she had, nobody else was even awake yet, let alone ready to go to breakfast. Even Hermione was still lightly snoring. She didn’t want to go alone, not today. She’d been in the public eye for weeks because of Quidditch, this morning would be even worse if she were alone. She made her way to the Common Room, shivering as she sat on the cold couch before the burnt out fire from the previous evening and tossed down the now overfull backpack beside her.

She wasn’t sure if it was the morning cold or nerves making her shake. Honestly, it was probably both. Time was passing, but she didn’t know how fast. It was simultaneously five seconds from Quidditch and five hours from Quidditch as far as her brain was concerned.

But time was definitely passing, at least. She didn’t know any spells that stopped time, but oh how she wished for one. She idly swung her wand around like a broom in front of her as she waited. She ran through the maneuvers Wood had taught her, twiddling the wand accordingly.

Thump thump thump thump

A few students - older than her, she thought - flew from the dorms murmuring about needing to finish an assignment in the Library. Following them, it seemed much of Gryffindor House had woken and was now preparing to go about their day. Some of them were even gossiping about the Quidditch game later, seeming not to notice Ariadne sitting there. It didn’t help. She was unsurprised to know that much of the house was skeptical of their new blind Seeker.

Thump thump thump thump

“Morning ‘Adne! You’re up early, did you sleep okay?” Hermione said as she jogged over.

“Ehhhhh. I don’t know if I even slept to be honest,” she replied with a sigh.

“Well, you lie back down a bit. Even if you don’t sleep it’ll do you good, we’ve still got some time before we really need to be up,” Hermione said. “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom.” Once again, she was left alone as she took in a haggard breath and took off her shoes to lay down on the couch.

Pretty comfortable couch, actually.

\--

“Ariadne! Ariadne, wake up,” Ariadne jumped awake to the magical core of Hermione not a foot away from her, invisible hands shaking her awake. She instinctively grabbed for covers but realized there weren’t any. She wasn’t in her bed, she’d fallen asleep on the couch almost as soon as her head had hit cushions.

“Wow, you really didn’t get any sleep did you?” Ronald asked, seated nearby. Ariadne groggily sat up amongst the cushions, embarrassedly wiping away the tiny veneer of saliva that had found itself on her chin.

“Wh- what time is it?” Ariadne asked.

“Seven thirty nine,” Hermione replied.

“About seven-thirty,” Ron replied at the same time. “Breakfast should be up by now, I’m starving.” Ariadne yawned. The room was warmer now, and she could hear the crackle of the fireplace. She retrieved her cane that now lay along the sofa’s base and stood, stretching.

“Let’s go,” she said simply, stepping around Ron and making her way toward the doorway. Once again, Ariadne was on autopilot as she repeatedly cycled through the steps of taking steps down toward the Great Hall. As her mind continued to tumble chaotically through the drills and tactics Wood had taken them through three times a week for near a month, she realized they’d arrived. She was reminded less by their actual arrival and more her mind involuntarily folding in on itself when some buffet bowl or other required refilling and was as such magically refilled by the glimmering rectangles of the tables. The trio found a space to sit and took a seat, while Ariadne grimaced as their plates arrived.

It took a few minutes for her to begin picking at her meal. She wasn’t quite sure what had been served to her, which didn’t help matters. Whatever it was had begun to go cold before Ron piped up.

“Take a bit of toast, go on,” Ron said.

“Ron’s right, ‘Adne. You’re going to need your strength today,” Hermione added. Ariadne exhaled.

“Hhhh… I just… I don’t know. I’m not hungry,” Ariadne said as she felt the approach of Professor Snape behind them. To her surprise, not only was his gait bobbing strangely, he stopped instead of merely floating past.

“Good luck today, Granger,” the stern voice said. “Then again now that you’ve proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you. Even if it is against Slytherin.” The man then continued sliding toward the head table, still bobbing. Ariadne quickly realized his chat was probably malicious - by all accounts, she hadn’t taken much part in defeating the troll.

“Ignore him Ariadne. He’s Slytherin’s head of house, he’s trying to throw you off,” Ron said, leaning over.

“Is there something wrong with his legs? He’s not moving the same as he normally does,” Ariadne asked the others.

“He had a cut on his leg last night,” Hermione said. “He hid it quickly but there was actually quite a lot of blood.” Ariadne frowned.

“That means it was recent, but how would-dhe - he have gotten hurt last night? We know he didn’t fight the troll,” she replied. “Wait. What if he _let_ _the troll in_ in order to sneak past that three headed dog? But he got himself bitten, that’s why he’s hurt.”

“But why would anyone go near that thing?” Hermione asked.

“It’s guarding something, remember?” Ariadne cast her mind back to the evening prior, thinking. “Come to think of it, is-is-s-sq Quirrell hurt? Whatever that thing on his head is was more active last night. More… buzzy.”

“Oh is  _ that _ why you had a headache?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, it’s weird. Whenever I - ow - focus on it, it hurts,” Ariadne said, instinctively demonstrating.

“No more than his usual self,” Hermione said. “I hear he fainted when he told the Hall about the troll.”

“Wait, Quirrell told them? So Snape was in the Hall the whole time?” Their collaborative sleuthing was cut off by the sound of a singular owl’s hoot - it was within the Hall, and Ariadne saw up in the rafters the colours of Hermes. “It’s not eight thirty yet, it can’t be.” The bell had only gone off for eight o’clock mere minutes ago, and mail wasn’t due until eight thirty.

“Bit early for mail, yes,” Hermione replied as Hermes swooped down from the ceiling and made a long pass down toward them. “Um.” Hermes lifted back up again, just as a clattering smash surrounded Ariadne as whatever he had been carrying hit the table and careened down it, spilling what sounded like two pitchers of juice.

Hermione and Ron collectively pulled what sounded like a paper wrapped package back along the table to them, apologizing to the people whose meals had been disrupted.

“It’s for you, Ariadne,” Ron said. “And uh. I think you’ll want to open it.”

“But I never get mail,” she replied, reaching out for what turned out to be a long thin package. Noticing that Hermione and Ron were already helping with it, she tore open the paper to reveal a sliver of magic.

She recognized this sort of magic, but she’d never seen it like this. This was powerful and refined where the ones she’d seen had been weak and fraying.

As her peers peeled away its wrappings, what was revealed was clearly a broomstick. While she couldn’t properly see the tuft at its rear, it seemed by texture to be far more orderly than the poorly used spare brooms used in lessons, and the stick itself had two main sections.

“It’s my broomstick,” she said in wonder.

“It’s not just a broomstick Ariadne! It’s a Nimbus 2000!” Ron exclaimed in awe. Ariadne followed the path of Hermes in her mind as the owl came to a stop beside Minerva McGonagall with a hoot.

“I thought first-years weren’t allowed their own brooms?” Hermione asked.

“McGonagall made an-n-an exception. Technically the broom belongs to the school for now but it’s for me specifically,” Ariadne replied. 

Her broom couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Ariadne had been jolted out of her doomful contemplations in favour of a prospective win today. She’d heard about the Nimbus 2000. It was a racing broom, the fastest yet in production. Perfect for a Seeker, and perfect for today. The Slytherins wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Oo!” Hermione gasped as someone walked past. “May I?” There was the sound of wooden clacking as she took something. “Little Gryffindor flags,” she explained. “I took three. You can have one too, Ronald, show some support for my sister, the youngest official Seeker in a century!” she said with pride. Ariadne blushed, smiling without meaning to. She ran her hand down the broom, before hitting something she didn’t expect. Something was jutting out from the broom itself.

“What- what’s this?” she asked. Hermione again gasped.

“Oh! It looks like it’s a thing for you to put your cane in, mind if I try it?” she asked. Ariadne passed the cane over and there was some brief clicking. “That’s excellent, it’s right there with you when the game’s over.” Ariadne bit into a large chunk of chicken, smiling before grimacing at the lingering taste of spearmint toothpaste in her mouth. Why, she wondered, had she brushed her teeth before breakfast? She was distracted from her confusion at herself by the approach of Professor McGonagall.

“Good morning Miss Granger. I trust the broomstick is to your liking?” the Professor asked.

“Yes Professor! It’s perfect,” Ariadne replied.

“Oh good. You might want to go see Wood over there, he seems to be gathering the team,” McGonagall said. Ariadne scanned the crowd before quickly finding Wood’s signature colours. “Good luck Ariadne. Gryffindor’s not done well in recent years, but I see excellent promise in this year’s lineup. Go out there and win it for us, Miss Granger.” McGonagall departed, patting her on the shoulder and finding another member of the team to herd over to Wood.

“Can I ride it, ‘Adne?” Ron asked eagerly. Ariadne paused at the nickname, previously reserved for Hermione, but didn’t mind if it propagated.

“Maybe after the game.” She knew the boy was a massive Quidditch fan - he apparently supported the Chudley Cannons, and given that his brothers were Beaters he probably wanted some of the fun. But today wasn’t a Chudley Cannons match. Today was Gryffindor versus Slytherin. And they were going to win. “See you guys!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to be combined with the actual Quidditch game, but if I did that it’d be massive. So it’s a little short, but next one’s gonna be pretty big.


	21. Seeker's Debut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts gets the first demonstration of their newest Seeker’s skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the game begins!

After collecting everyone from their breakfasts, Wood led the team far across the grounds to the imposing Quidditch stadium - while she could barely see it, Ariadne could tell just how long it was and how small she felt here. Small, but sure to be the centre of attention after a while. Within the bowels of the structure and scaffolds was what was akin to a small house buried amongst the wooden beams, which he led them into. This was the changing rooms, bathrooms and such for the players, most likely with a twin on the other side for the opposing team. It smelled a bit, and Ariadne supposed Filch might not come here to clean as often.

As the group congregated in the main room, Wood stopped.

“All right, everyone get changed and meet back here when you’re done, okay?” he said. “Oh, girls’ changing room is the one on the left, Ariadne, I dunno if the sign’s magical or anything but I doubt it.” Ariadne was already moving, following Katie, Angelina and Alicia, the three Chasers, toward it.

“Looks like we outnumber the boys this year,” Angelina said as they pushed past the door. “Last year it was just me with six guys. Now that you lot are here, that’s four-three to us,” she chuckled.

“To think you had this place all to yourself,” Katie said. Ariadne probed for a shower stall, or at least a bathroom stall. Finding one and internally lamenting that its walls didn’t go the whole way down, she opened it. 

“Don’t know if we’ve got time for showers, Ariadne. Should have had one before breakfast,” Angelina said, muffled as she changed shirts. Ariadne turned.

“Not showering. Changing,” she replied simply.

“Oh. Right, gotcha, makes sense. I’d be private too if I didn’t know where people were looking. You do you.” Ariadne smiled back and locked the stall. “Looking forward to the game, Ariadne?”

“Scared,” she replied as she took off her shoes. “Never played before.”

“Don’t you worry, you’ll be fine,” Alicia replied as Ariadne snapped the leg-guards on.

\--

“Careful with those stairs there Granger,” Wood said as he headed the team along the makeshift corridor toward the entrance to the pitch. The places were becoming more and more magical as they approached, but because of relative disuse, it was too dim for Ariadne to navigate without relying entirely on her cane. She came to the steps and slowly made her way up them, Wood ahead of her. She reached the top and stood beside Wood in what felt like a small room. The hatch was most likely directly ahead, and she could hear the ever growing cheers of the crowd. Her heartbeat was in her arms, her legs, her forehead. She wished she’d eaten more at breakfast. As they came to a stop, Ariadne guessed it was time for her to clip her cane to the broom. She slotted it in and did up the buckles, holding her Nimbus 2000 broom in her right hand. She breathed in heavily.

“Scared, Ariadne?” Wood asked.

“Yes,” Ariadne replied.

“That’s all right. I felt the same way before my first Quidditch game,” Wood replied reassuringly.

“How’d it go?”

“Uh. I don’t really remember.” She frowned as Wood said that. “I took a Bludger to the head two minutes in. Woke up in hospital a week later. Don’t worry, you’re a lot better at dodging Bludgers than I was back then.” If anything, Ariadne’s terrified nausea only intensified as she heard the clunking chain of the hatch pull it up and felt the sun on her face. The stadium erupted into cheers and the outlines of both the door and the stadium itself were revealed by the number of people in the stands above. It had to be everyone at Hogwarts sitting up there. Noticing everyone else mounting up, she too mounted her broom as their cores connected to their brooms.

Just as they had rehearsed, Wood flew out first, followed by Ariadne and then the Twins. Ariadne rocketed behind Wood as they circled the pitch, the Chasers and Beaters performing a bit more for the crowd. Ariadne was finding the broom much more powerful than those she’d previously used, and far more maneuverable to the point she found herself occasionally overcompensating. A voice bellowed out across the pitch from a tall stand where she saw some of the Professors and a magic megaphone.

“Hello and welcome to Hogwarts’ first Quidditch game of the season! Todays game: Slytherin versus Gryffindor!” Ariadne swore that on a pass around the stands she saw Hermione’s colours and heard her cry out in support, but was quickly too far away to properly tell.

Once Wood took his place at the centre, she ascended and took her place above the ringed formation. Instead of surveying the pitch, she surveyed the players. She needed to know which person was which, and most importantly, who the Slytherin Seeker was. A blue and gold smear took its place opposite her and she knew who her counterpart was. Madam Hooch walked out onto the field, a broom laying on the ground where she stood.

“The players take their positions as Madam Hooch steps onto the field to begin the game!” the commentator said.

“Now I want a nice clean game!” Hooch’s voice boomed out. “From all of you.” The box opened and revealed the Bludgers which immediately rocketed up, as well as the glimmering purple speck that was the Golden Snitch.

“The Bludgers erupt! Followed by the Golden Snitch! Remember, the Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points. The Seeker who catches the Snitch wins the game.” Hooch stepped around the now invisible crate. “The Quaffle is released!” The players all shot forward, Wood and the player who was clearly the opposition Keeper rocketing backward to their hoops. “And the game begins!”

Ariadne backed off as the formation became a violent cluster and Hooch mounted her broom. It looked like Angelina had the Quaffle, going off how Alicia and Katie had formed a formation around her and the Slytherin players were dive-bombing her to try and gather it. Before long, a bell tolled from the hoops.

“Angelina Johnson scores, ten points to Gryffindor!” Ariadne mentally noted 10-0 in her mind and turned her attention to what she  _ could _ see. Bludgers and the Snitch. Those were all that mattered right now. One of the Bludgers charged toward her from her right as she gently clapped and she easily backed away to dodge it. “Slytherin takes possession of the Quaffle! Bletchley passes it to Captain Marcus Flint!” As the dot approached the hoops behind Ariadne, Wood shot up and flipped. “And he is blocked by Captain Oliver Wood, and Gryffindor regains possession of the Quaffle!”

Ariadne searched, panning her focus all around the pitch below her before looking up. The crowd’s chaotic magic was making it difficult to see anything with clarity, and she hoped it was higher up as she idly took note of her peers flying in formation again toward the Slytherin hoops and weaving about the tower-like stands. The bell tolled again as Johnson flew toward the hoops.

“Yes!” Ariadne exclaimed, before returning her attention to the whereabouts of the Snitch.

“Angelina Johnson scores again, another ten points to Gryffindor!”  _ 20-0 _ , Ariadne thought. Good so far, but the opposition Seeker, who she realized she hadn’t been keeping an eye on as she should, was still a threat. He didn’t seem to have seen anything yet though, as he too hovered. She could have sworn she’d spotted the tiny ball flitting about the hoop base, but hadn’t been able to get a bead on it.

As she searched, a Bludger ricocheted off of Marcus Flint and hit Wood like a bullseye - Ariadne didn’t have time to ponder the fact that Flint wasn’t a Beater as Wood’s broom connection failed and he and his broom plummeted to the sound of cries from the crowd. A whistle jolted her out of her search for the Snitch.

“And that’s a yellow card to Marcus Flint for fouling the Gryffindor Keeper - Chasers aren’t to take the bats of Beaters, and now Flint’s got to stay on his best behaviour or else he’ll be ejected. Gryffindor substitute Shane Tremball takes Wood’s place as Wood is removed from the field by medical staff!” the commentator yelled. It didn’t take long for Flint’s formation to get the Quaffle past Tremball however, and the bell sounded again.

“Ten points to Slytherin!”  _ 20-10 _ , Ariadne thought. She needed to find the Snitch. Two of Slytherin’s Chasers sandwiched Angelina as Ariadne tried to focus more on her senses, and Angelina suddenly vanished into the tower stands and collapsed out the bottom, unconscious.  _ So much for a ‘nice clean game,’  _ Ariadne thought. The bell tolled again.  _ 20-20 _ .

_ There _ .

The Snitch was flitting about below them, making its way upward and possibly toward her. She rocketed down and turned on her way, noticing without care that Slytherin’s Seeker had clearly spotted her moving and was making pursuit. The Snitch ran from her, ringing the stands as Ariadne dodged another Bludger by shunting to her right.

And then the broom shunted to her left.

And then to her right. She wasn’t telling it to do that, she realized as she held onto the broom. It was in that moment she noticed a beam of magic had connected to it in addition to her own mind - it was coming from the stands, from the signature staticky figure of Professor Quirinus Quirrell and it seemed he wanted to stop her as her broom shunted from side to side. A  _ third _ connection was made, its influence fighting Quirrell’s as the broom bucked wildly beneath her under the now three command influences. She wasn’t sure, the movement was making it hard to tell, but it looked like the third was coming from Professor Snape.

The crowd had obviously noticed as their cries began to correspond to what happened to her. Ariadne screamed as the broom jolted forward, throwing her off and only allowing one of her hands to keep clinging to it. She frantically flailed her other arm in the air, quickly finding the broomstick and hanging on for dear life. It seemed to be still now, freezing under the chaotic commands. It wasn’t completely still though, jolting occasionally and swinging from side to side as she hung, legs flailing.

Snape’s influence suddenly failed as the entire crowd in that stand started moving. For a brief moment, Quirrell’s was the one in control, and the broom pitched down throwing her upward as she clung on. Then, Quirrell fell and she regained control, managing to use her new position above the broom to quickly maneuver back on. She shook her head and cast her senses around haphazardly, trying to relocate the Snitch.

Good news and bad news.

The Snitch was right there, but the opposing Seeker was hot on its tail.

She pushed the racing broom into overdrive, willing it into the fastest charge it could put her onto and soon found herself neck-and-neck with the Slytherin Seeker. As they rocketed past a stand, he suddenly pitched sideways and smashed into her, pushing her to the other side of the tower stand. She swooped back down toward him, once again right beside him.

The Snitch dove.

In unison, the two Seekers followed, the other one continuing to ram her as she tried to pull ahead. The Snitch darted from side to side as they plummeted, and as the wind blew her hair every way conceivable, the other Seeker broke for some reason. He was flying away. As the Snitch changed direction, Ariadne pulled up and followed. The Slytherin Seeker was far behind now, and had no hope of catching her.

“Holy-! Ariadne Granger pulls up at the last instant, a hair’s width from death as she pursues the Golden Snitch! Did she even know the ground was there?!” the commentator roared. For a split second, Ariadne looked at where the crowd was. She was below it. And by the magic coating the walls? She was no more than two metres from the pitch.

No matter. She pushed her broom as hard as it would go, the distance closing with the Snitch as she approached it. With a burst of speed and her fingers prying for the tiny ball, she lost sight of it.

What the hell?

She stopped in mid-air, spinning.

Something was in her mouth, she realized as she retched. Did she swallow a bug?! The crowd sounded worried. Something came up, and with a spark of fear she quickly grabbed the sodden purple glimmer of the Golden Snitch which was jettisoned from her mouth and fell toward the ground.

“She’s got the Snitch! Ariadne Granger receives one hundred and fifty points for catching the Snitch! Ariadne Granger, the White Eyed Wonder wins the game for Gryffindor!” Madam Hooch’s whistle blared as the game concluded and Ariadne hovered in stunned silence while half the crowd erupted into applause. As she comprehended what had just happened, she smiled and held the Snitch up for all to see and the applause took on an even greater enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure about the name ‘White Eyed Wonder,’ but she had to admit she liked the idea of reclaiming the taunt so many had used throughout her school life - ‘white eyes.’

\--

Ariadne hurriedly probed her way toward her friends. She’d gotten changed after a barrage of hugs and cheers from her team, who seemed too enthusiastic about their ‘White Eyed Wonder’ for her to bother explaining the complexity of her feelings regarding that impromptu title, and now needed to talk. Ron and Hermione strode toward her, followed by the massive form of Rubeus Hagrid.

“Well done ‘Adne! Well done!” Ron yelled as he ran over.

“Woooo!” Hermione cried as she pulled Ariadne into a hug. “I am so proud of you, that was amazing!” Ariadne chuckled before her smile vanished.

“Professor Quirrell tried to  _ kill _ me,” she said. All three of the others went silent.

“But Snape was casting it,” Hermione said, confused.

“Snape was trying to stop Quirrell, but both had their wands on me.”

“Nonsense!” Rubeus said. “Why would Quirrell put a curse on your broom?!”

“Who knows?” Ariadne replied. “Snape was doing it too but his was a counter, but then why did Snape try to get past that three-headed dog last night?” The giant man paused.

“Who told you about Fluffy?” he asked.

“Fluffy?! That  _ thing _ has a name?!” Ron exclaimed.

“Well ‘course he’s got a name he’s mine! I bought him off an Irish feller I met down the pub last year. Then I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-”

“Yes?” Ariadne asked.

“Shouldn’t ha said that, no more questions, don’t ask anymore questions! That’s top secret that is.” Hagrid said.

“But Hagrid, whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Quirrell and Snape are trying to steal it!”

“Nono, wait. What if Snape was trying to  _ stop  _ Quirrell from stealing it? Think about it. Quirrell knew the troll was there but he shouldn’t have been in the Dungeons anyway. And now today Quirrell tries to kill you and Snape stopped him,” Hermione said quickly.

“Codswallop. Professor Quirrell is a Hogwarts teacher,” Rubeus replied, stopping.

“Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a spell when I see one; they’re about all I  _ can _ see. Quirrell was the first one to curse my broom, Snape tried to counter him,” Ariadne replied, slightly miffed. Hagrid sighed.

“Now you listen to me. All three of yer? You’re meddling in things that ought not to be meddled in! It’s dangerous. What that dog is guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.” A spark ran through Ariadne’s mind.

“Nicholas Flamel?”

“Shouldn’t have said that. I should  _ not _ have said that,” Rubeus mumbled as he began to walk off.

“Nicholas Flamel. We’ve read that name before, I’m certain of it. Anything come to mind, Hermione?”

“I dunno. But if we’ve read it before, we can try going through the books we’ve read, see if it gets us anywhere.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again some self-insert when it comes to the stalls. I however at the time was a closeted trans girl in the boys’ changing room for PE with three dozen others who teased me for it. I honestly don’t see why communal changing rooms have to be a thing, they suck.  
> Magical sight throws some interesting changes into the mix! Unlike canon!Harry, Ariadne knows exactly what was happening already.


	22. ABCs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flitwick’s R&D for a magical ink pays off, and he delivers a prototype to Ariadne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is probably going to be a point where I could easily fuck up things, PLEASE tell me if I fuck up with this chapter and don’t portray blindness well.

It had been near a month since her first Quidditch game, and the attention was now on other teams’ games. Ravenclaw were playing against Hufflepuff next week before the end of term, and with the scores as they were Wood said that if Hufflepuff won it would go a long way to pushing Slytherin out of the running for the cup. With that in mind, Ariadne was planning to be far from private in her support of Hufflepuff during the match.

Snow was setting in as the year got colder, and it was interesting to Ariadne that she could see the multi-coloured snowflakes falling from the ceiling of the Great Hall as it fell gently outside. Winter was clearly on its way, and even within the Great Hall with its multiple fireplaces, she shivered a little in her uniform. She had been quick to down dinner and while her fingers were a little chilly her core was plenty warm. Hogwarts was clearly a lot further north than home was. Ariadne and Hermione were sitting opposite one another, while Hermione pored over a book and Ariadne finished the soup.

Ron however was playing with a stack of his Chocolate Frog cards. Hermione had collected a few after taking the card from the train, but she wasn’t as ardent a fan as the Weasley boy.

“Playing cards? Really?” Hermione asked of Ron. “We’ve got a Potions test on Monday!” Ron chucked down one of the magical cards.

“I’m ready! Ask me any question!” Ron replied. Ariadne smiled. This would be fun.

“All right. What are the three most crucial ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?” Hermione asked. Ron paused as Ariadne turned to him, smiling smugly.

“I forgot,” Ron said as Ariadne laughed.

“And what, may I ask, do you plan to do if that’s in the test?”

“Copy off you.”

“No you _wont_!” Hermione exclaimed indignantly. “And as I recall, Professor Snape will be providing special quills bewitched with an anti-cheating spell.”

“That’s _insulting_! It’s like they don’t trust us!” he said.

“You did just say you were going to cheat, Ronald,” Ariadne pointed out. “And for the record, the three most crucial ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion are Lethe river water, mistletoe berries and Valerian sprigs. Might want to write it down.”

“Shut up. Ugh, Dumbledore again.” Ariadne was surprised to see the small colours of Professor Flitwick enter the Hall - she hadn’t realized he wasn’t already at the head table. Also to her surprise, he didn’t make a beeline for the head table either. He instead came around the side of the Gryffindor table and approached Ariadne.

“Ah, Miss Granger. I hoped I’d find you here and not gone already. Something for you.” He held up a large corked bottle, coated in magic. Ariadne gasped.

“Is that-”

“Indeed, Miss Granger. Now keep in mind, this is only a prototype for you to field test, I can’t guarantee how long it will remain legible. I took the liberty of transcribing yesterday’s Charms reading from your class using the ink, does this look all right?” He handed her a sheet of paper, and Ariadne’s breath caught in her throat.

It was covered in glowing blue symbols, all etched out neatly in lines. All entirely legible, except for one small problem.

It was at this moment that Ariadne realized she didn’t know the latin alphabet. The Dursleys had never taught her to read and she’d been rendered blind long before she’d met the Grangers. She’d learnt the alphabet in Braille only, and to be fair, she thought, why would she have learnt the latin characters if she’d never expected to be able to see them?

“Yes Professor, it works!” she exclaimed.

“Excellent, excellent. I’ll leave this with you then and er, make sure your other professors get some to use. We’ll have you caught up in no time, Miss Granger,” Flitwick said, turning and heading up to the head table once more. Ron gently slapped her on the shoulder.

“That’s wicked! You’ll be able to take notes now!” he said.

“Hermione?” Ariadne said.

“Hmm?”

“Would you, uh.. Would you mind teaching me how to read?” she asked quietly, leaning over, a tiny bit embarrassed even if there was no reason for her to already know.

“Oh of course, you’d never have learnt. Sure, do you want to do that now? I expect Professor Snape’s going to make the test with it, so if you can read all right by Monday you’ll do okay. And writing, don’t forget you’ll need to learn that too.”

\--

With Ron off hanging out with Seamus and Dean, Hermione and Ariadne had been left the quiet of the mostly deserted Gryffindor Common Room. They’d taken some parchment from Hermione’s supply and one of her unused quills, and now had a whole table to themselves.

“Okay, so, this is the alphabet. These ones are A, capital on the left,” Hermione said, scratching it down as it appeared in Ariadne’s vision, propagating from the blob of colour that was the end of the quill. “These ones are B,” she listed through each one, although if Ariadne didn’t already know the order she was certain she’d have lost track. Once her sister had run through the entire thing, capital letters as well as lowercase - Ariadne kept having to remind herself that the uppercase was on its own, not beside the lowercase; a capital letter in braille was just the letter with a dot six before it. “Okay. With me so far?” Ariadne studied the sheet for a moment.

“Think so.”

“Okay. Now I’m going to write something down for you, something easy, and you’re gonna read it out to me. You can take your time, don’t worry,” Hermione said, leaning back over the sheets and scratching out a sentence slowly. “Okay, give that a try.”

Okay. That was a T - a capital T, followed by a lowercase h and i - s… This. Another lowercase i and s, is. Another lowercase i, followed by an…. M? No, an n, and a k?

“This is ink?” Ariadne asked. Hermione started clapping.

“Yes! Right first time, well done! Want to try another?” Ariadne nodded, smiling earnestly. The pair ran through just reading for a while. Most of the rest of the House had returned to the Tower by the time they were done, and when Ron got back with some dessert for the pair - they’d left early - they took a break.

“How’s it coming?” Ron asked.

“It’s going well, she’s doing well on reading. We’re going to start on writing next, hopefully we can have that down by Monday,” Hermione said.

“It helps that I learned a blind alphabet with like, bumps so I have somewhere to go from. But it’s hard to make and really expensive even for non-magical people. This is… this is gonna be really helpful,” Ariadne said. She had found her ability to study almost nonexistent without the help of Hermione, and she knew it was stressing her sister out sometimes. She was glad she had as good a memory as she did.

\--

Writing was difficult. The scratching sound of the quill was unpleasant, and she kept smudging the letters before. She’d been practicing writing out the letters, and she was frustrated by how often she smudged the ones above. Much as her handwriting was a mess to put it politely, she was at least glad to be well on her way.

“Do you want to try writing a word?” Hermione asked. Ariadne nodded, putting the quill back into the pot. “Okay. Let’s start out with your name, you know how to spell that?”

“Uh. A-R-I?-A-D-N-Y?” Nothing in braille had actually had her name on it, so she’d never had to spell it. Hermione sniffed in amusement.

“Close, close. E, not Y. A-R-I-A-D-N-E. Shall we give that a go?”

“Yep.” Ariadne took up the quill and took a deep breath. She knew the capital A needed three strokes. Down, down, across. She looked over at her cheat sheet, which she suspected she’d still need by the time she needed to complete any work, and checked an r. The i was just one line with a dot. Another a, but this time the circular one with a leg. A d, which got a bit wobbly as she curved the quill back up. n. e. 

It was wobbly, and it quickly skewed off the imaginary horizontal line and down, but it was a hell of a start. Down on the paper, written by her own hand and visible to her, was her name. _Ariadne_.

\--

They took the next day - Sunday - to continue her practice. By the end of the day she’d graduated from single words suggested by their peers to small sentences suggested by their peers. They’d started off with basic things like _My name is Ariadne Granger and I study magic at Hogwarts_ , but Hermione had eventually, as a joke, challenged her to write out _The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog_. She’d managed nonetheless, and it had reminded Hermione that she couldn’t actually see the edges of paper so she’d drawn borders for Ariadne after she’d gotten the ink all over the table. Her wrists had never ached this badly, and she was glad to now be done with it for the day.

After dinner and a substantial break, Ariadne took some of the bordered paper as well as the ink and quill to a corner of the Common Room. Her goal: to write a letter to her parents. It took a long time, at least an hour of careful writing - and frustrated scratching out of bad wording or words she couldn’t spell - but eventually she had something she was ready to send.

> _To Mum aNd Dad._
> 
> _Profeser Flitwik made some magic ink for me! I can see it, and so can_ _~~evy~~ _ _evryone else. Hermione taugt me the alfabet and I will be able to start taking my_ _~~ow ow ow~~ _ _own notes._
> 
> _So many cool things have hapend! We’ve even made some friends - that boy at the trayn station, Ronald has been nice. He started off meen but he came around after helping us_ ~~_fite a troll._~~ _finish some work. And I got on the Quidditch team! Turns out I can see the Snich, so I’m Grifindor’s new seeker. Flying is_ ~~_surpry surpi sur_~~ _easyer than I thought it would be._
> 
> _I can’t send you the ink, but I’ll bring some when we come back for crismas._
> 
> _With love,_
> 
> _Ariadne_.

Incredibly chuffed but certain she’d spelled half of it incorrectly, she went and found Hermes who had been perched in the window of the girls’ dorm. Her handwriting was atrocious and the short letter had taken two whole pieces of parchment because of how large it was, but she’d dutifully folded it up and put it in one of the envelopes supplied in the Common Room. Not bad for her second day of being able to see words. Writing out _Mr and Mrs Granger_ on the front, she handed the sealed envelope to Hermes. She’d watched Hermione do it as best she could, so she knew she only had to give Hermes the letter and he’d take it on its way.

The bird swooped from the window carrying the tiny glimmer that was the names on the envelope, disappearing into the distance as Ariadne set about getting ready to go to bed, smiling uncontrollably all the while.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene I based the first scene here on isn’t actually in the film, it’s a deleted scene. It’s also technically set after the holidays, but since it’s not actually in the film I’m all right messing with it a bit (and removing the bit which alters the story by revealing who Nicholas Flamel is too early lmao)


	23. Holidays at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ariadne head back home for the Christmas holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione went home for their first christmas holidays, so it makes sense Ariadne would too.  
> TW: Mention of dysphoria, brief deadnaming.

December had come, and the snow was well and truly blanketing Hogwarts and its grounds. In the last couple of weeks, Ariadne had carefully - if slowly - taken notes just like everyone else in class, and she’d been the centre of attention again for a little while - it wasn’t every day a blind student started learning how to read and write. She wasn’t glad of this attention however, it seemed to manifest in a kind of infantilization most of the time. 

Magical decorations added to the maelstrom of colour that was the castle, and Hagrid had been dragging vast Christmas trees into the Great Hall, which Ariadne could only tell were there by the fact they obscured the well-defined rest of the room and later by the glimmering decorations Flitwick had levitated onto them.

However, Ariadne wouldn’t have long to appreciate the glowing crescent moons and stars spiralling up the boughs. Hermione and Ariadne would be heading back home for the holidays, and they had finally managed to drag their trunks down to the ground floor. The Hogwarts Express awaited the throng of students, but it wasn’t yet to leave for another few hours so they’d decided to go looking for Ron, who they hadn’t seen that morning. Ariadne quickly spotted his glimmering colours, alone among the table while he seemed to be polishing his Wizard’s Chess set and she awkwardly approached, dragging her trunk with her left hand and trying to probe without moving in such a way that would twist the trunk askew.

“Hey ‘Adne, Hermione. I see you’ve packed,” he said as they stopped.

“See you haven’t,” Hermione replied. “Leaving it to the last minute, are we?”

“Change of plans. My parents decided to go to Romania and visit my brother Charlie. He’s studying dragons there!”

“Oh good, you can help out then. I’ve compiled a list of the books Ariadne and I have read while we’ve been here, some of them are in my trunk, I crossed them off. If you wouldn’t mind having a look through for any information on Nicholas Flamel? We know it’s on that list somewhere.” Hermione handed him a piece of parchment, tapping her trunk.

“Bloody hell! How fast do you bloody read?!” Ron exclaimed as he took it. “There’s at least thirty books on here!”

“Not _that_ fast,” Ariadne protested. “And we’re taking a few with us.”

“You’ve only had a few months! Blimey. I can’t promise anything. It’ll take ages just to find these in the Library!” Ron said.

“Well, I doubt you’ll have much to do on your own anyway. Something to pass the time. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something,” Hermione said.

“Ugh. Fine, I’ll have a look if I get bored.”

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t play chess,” Ariadne said, nodding toward the pieces Ron had set down. Upon finding out Ariadne had been in her old school’s chess club, Ron had eagerly challenged her to a game. However, while she could see the pieces perfectly fine, the squares were completely invisible to her and she didn’t have her indented board with her.

“That’s all right. Tell you what, I’ll go talk to Professor Flitwick some time, see if I can get the squares painted in that ink for you, sound good?” Ron replied. Ariadne nodded.

“Sounds good. Uh, we’ve got to go, sorry. Got to make sure Hermes gets on the train, we’ll write you okay?” She said.

“Right, yeah. You too!”

“Have a good Christmas!” Hermione called as the pair headed off.

\--

That evening, the Hogwarts Express trundled into Platform 9 ¾ far less smoothly than it had the Hogwarts platform. The carriage shook as it stopped, and both Hermione and a tired Ariadne set about retrieving their trunks and Hermes from the porters. There were a few procedures in place to ensure the Statute of Secrecy got observed, with a queue to leave the platform which periodically moved forward - they had to be careful that non-magical people didn’t see them walk out of a wall. Eventually, the pair strode quickly through the wall - a disorienting experience for Ariadne to walk through what looked like a solid wall of magic - and easily located their parents amongst the relative darkness of King’s Cross Station. The station wasn’t busy due to it being somewhat late, and there certainly weren’t enough non-magical people around to warrant the slowness of the queue. About ninety percent of the people here were magical in some respect as far as Ariadne could see.

“Hermione! Ariadne! Over here!” their dad called. Hermione jogged over, followed by a much slower Ariadne. She had gotten used to the magic of Hogwarts, or at least accustomed to in a way seeing the ground over the last few months, and now had to focus a lot on making sure she didn’t hit someone or something with her trolley. Hermione leapt into the arms of their mum, while Dennis closed the distance to give Ariadne a hug and relieve her of the trolley so she could use her cane. 

“Hey ‘Adne! We got your letter, that’s amazing! I know we can’t talk about it here but once we’re in the car you’ve got to tell us everything!” Dennis exclaimed. As she and her dad rejoined Hermione and Valerie, Ariadne could hear Hermione rapidly tapping her knuckle in excitement, veritably bursting at the seams with stories she had to wait to tell. “All right there Hermione? Yeah? Nice. Now, where was that ramp again?” Their parents guided them to the car, and Ariadne was briefly saddened to see that the magic spread amongst the interior had diminished a bit in their absence, and she wondered how much dimmer the house could be. Valerie groaned as she sat in the driver’s seat.

“Damn, Hermione, that trunk’s a lot heavier than I remember,” she complained.

“I brought some books home to read,” Hermione replied simply.

“How many?”

“Six… maybe eight,” she said sheepishly.

“Jesus Christ. Well, if nothing else I’m sure you’ll have no difficulties come exam time. Speaking of which! Congrats ‘Adne, that ink will make it a lot easier for you!” Ariadne smiled.

“Yeah! I’m sorry I didn’t send you any s-so you could write back, but we only had one vial. Kinda running out, actually,” she ranted. “Professor McGonagall was making braille stuff for me but it wasn’t working very well so Professor Flitwick made that ink for me.”

“Oh that was nice of Professor McGonagall,” Dennis said. “She seemed a nice one when she came over. She’s the Deputy Headmistress, right?”

“Yes. She’s also Head of Gryffindor house - we both got sorted into Gryffindor,” Hermione replied.

“Was that the lion one?”

“Yeah. In addition she also teaches Transfiguration, that’s the field of transforming one thing into another.”

“Oh wow. I’m sure young Ariadne would find that class interesting,” Dennis said. To say there was an awkward pause was an understatement.

The thought _had_ occurred to Ariadne. Advanced enough knowledge of Transfiguration might get her the right body. But from what it sounded like, that would be one hell of an ask. On top of that, it would be dangerous and might not even take.

But it was tempting, and she had to internally admit to having laid awake at night imagining how that might work. Wishful thinking.

“Oh yeah, you said you got into the Quidditch team? How’s that going?” Valerie asked, piercing the pause. Ariadne bobbed up and down in her seat as they drove.

“It’s great! I can see most of the balls, the Snitch and the Bludgers, so I can dodge the Bludgers pretty easy,” Ariadne said eagerly.

“I’m sorry, what’s a Bludger?” Dennis asked, concerned as he cut Ariadne off.

“Um.” Ariadne thought about it. “Imagine a cannonball, but angry,” she said, mirroring what Wood had said once. She heard Dennis turn in his seat toward her.

“Just how dangerous are they?” Again, Ariadne had to think about it.

“I mean, Wood got hit in the head with one once and he was only knocked out for a while. They’re not that bad,” she said, hoping they didn’t ask how long Wood had been knocked out for. “Wood’s the team captain, Oliver Wood. Oh! Remember those brooms in Diagon Alley, the Nimbus range? McGonagall got me a Nimbus 2000! I’ve got to chase the Snitch so it’s a racing broom,” she exclaimed.

“Woah! Those were expensive, I hope they don’t expect you to pay that back,” Valerie said.

“Nono, don’t worry. It te-technic-ly belongs to the school. But, speaking of money,” Ariadne said, pulling a tiny key from her bag and holding it up. “Rubeus gave me the key to the vault in Gringotts, for the inheritance.”

“Oh neat. You hold onto that for now. But you’re not getting it all out in one go, you know?”

“I know.”

\--

Ariadne was glad to know that while the colours of the house had dimmed, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as she’d morbidly expected. Her room still held her signature purple and red, and Hermione’s her blue and red, with golden flecks all around the house still. Their parents, exhausted from a long day of work and having had to pick the girls up from the station quite late, had elected to get takeout, chow mein specifically, and the two were happy to have it again. Hogwarts’ food seemed stuck in a stereotypical fifteenth century idea of England, much like the castle and wizarding society themselves.

The two had fallen onto Hermione’s bed, stuffed with food, and taken out the first book on Hermione’s list. Much like they hoped Ron was doing, they were looking for wherever Ariadne had heard Nicholas Flamel and were starting with _Magical Formula For The Aspiring Spellweaver_ by Hexley Timbleton. Eventually, at around two in the morning by Hermione’s alarm clock, Ariadne departed, yawning, for her own bedroom and an uneasy sleep quickly took her.

\--

**December 21st**

“Okay, what else do we need to do while we’re there?” Valerie asked. Hermione and Ariadne were standing in the hall with empty backpacks, and Valerie was finding her keys.

“Well, we’d like to get Ron something for Christmas, and see if there’s anything interesting for us there,” Ariadne said. “‘Mione, you said the girls were talking about a new book? Gilded Lock Man or something?”

“Gilderoy Lockhart - he’s a powerful wizard, it’s a series of his adventures. Susie in Ravenclaw had a copy of _The Gallant Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart_ , and apparently a sequel called _Magical Me_ came out a few weeks ago. It’s the Daily Prophet Bestseller,” Hermione explained.

“No way I’d be able to say that name,” Ariadne said.

“Dare ya,” Dennis said, coming past on his way to the lounge.

“Gallant Gree-greendylow Gav-gievan- _grievances_ of Gil-Gil.. Gill. His name is Gill now. Good old Gill,” Ariadne stammered, giggling as Hermione burst into laughter.

“Gill Lockman’s Grinny Boys,” Valerie said, chuckling. “Okay, Gringotts and then some Christmas shopping. Hermes will be able to get whatever you get for Ron to him quickly enough, right?”

“Should do,” Hermione replied. “Hermes came back a couple days after ‘Adne sent her letter here and he’s staying at Hogwarts over the holidays.”

“Cool. Okay, we’re off Dennie! See you later!” Valerie called. “Shouldn’t be too long!”

“Okay hun!” Dennis replied from the lounge. “Have fun guys!” Their dad had some paperwork to finish up, but after that he’d be free for the rest of the week. They left the house and reached the pavement.

“Hermione, if you’d do the honours.” Valerie, as a non-magical person without a wand, couldn’t summon the Knight Bus. Hermione surreptitiously slid her wand from her pocket and held it out. Ariadne watched as the signature tiny spike fell to her wand, almost as if marking where the wand was. Moments later, a blur of purple and yellow light filled the darkness of Ariadne’s magic sense at the arrival of the Knight Bus.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, public transport for the errant witch or wizard - Ah, Mrs Granger. Diagon Alley, I presume?” the tall skinny man at the door said.

“Yes please, Mr Shunpike,” their mother responded.

“Ernie! Bump the Leaky Cauldron up on the list! All right ladies, policy dictates I must remind ya to hold on tight and that all hands, legs, and other miscellaneous limbs should you have extra must remain within the vehicle at all times.” Ariadne hurriedly grabbed a couple of the standing poles and handrails - the entire interior of the bus was crystal clear to her, so she didn’t have any trouble even though this level was mostly beds for some reason.

“Take it away, Ernie!” cried a magical ball beside the driver. Ariadne’d never asked about it, but Hermione had mentioned a shrunken head. With that, the bus shot forward and the women clung on for dear life while Stan, clearly far more used to this, idly leant on the wall. 

“Last minute Christmas shopping eh?” Stan asked.

“Something - woah - something like that, yes,” Valerie said, taking out her wallet while trying to keep a hold on a pole. “How much was-”

“Nah don’tcha worry about it. You’re regulars and it’s Christmas. On the house. Or, bus, I guess. On the bus,” Shunpike replied as Valerie tried to pay him. “You two’s first year at Hogwarts, I’m guessing? Wait, you’re Ariadne Granger! Youngest Seeker in a century I hears, the White Eyed Wonder they’re calling ya.”

“Y-y-y-y-y--you’re-yyyou’re well informed,” Ariadne replied, nodding, slightly disturbed that she was becoming more well known even outside of the school.

“Nah, not really. Ya hear a lot in this job though, a lot of folks coming home from Hogwarts for the holidays and all.” The bus veered to a stop, almost throwing Ariadne from her perch. “You keep doin’ good at Quidditch and you could well end up on a professional team if it’s yer interest. Here we are, Number One Diagon Alley: The Leaky Cauldron. Have fun ladies.” Ariadne carefully stepped off the bus first, wobbling a little as she regained her equilibrium, followed by Hermione and Valerie. The trio sidestepped an exiting wizard into the Leaky Cauldron, once again following the familiar path to Diagon Alley. Today, the wall was just open for the day and the street was even more bustling than Ariadne’d ever seen it. Slowly navigating around throngs of shoppers, they made their way all the way down the twisting street toward the familiar crooked building of Gringotts. Entering, Ariadne flipped through her memory. So far as she knew, making a withdrawal was the big desk up front. She carefully probed her way directly forward, joining the queue with her heartbeat filling her ears. Just how much information would she have to share? Much as she liked the goblins, she didn’t want the information of her secret identity getting out.

Eventually, the Grangers met the end of the queue and Valerie stepped forward.

“Ariadne Granger would like to make a withdrawal from her vault,” she said simply. Ariadne could almost see the confusion in the goblin’s - Griphook, if she recalled correctly - magic. He was a prickly fellow as she remembered, used to dealing with uppity purebloods obsessed with their blood status.

“I’m sorry? Gringotts does not have a vault under the name Granger. You are, however, welcome to open one for your family,” Griphook replied. Ariadne stepped forward, vaguely beckoning Griphook nearer. She watched as his defined magic leant down to meet her.

“I’m adopted. My birth surname was Potter,” she whispered, holding a finger over her lips. _Quiet_. She watched as Griphook turned from her to her mother, then back again.

“With me, please, the three of you. Shellfarer, take this desk while I speak with them,” Griphook said alertly, stepping down and leading them quickly into a side chamber. As they entered, with a flick of his wrist and a burst of magic, the door was sealed and locked. A blue wave soundproofed the room, and a golden field began pulsing in the centre. “Miss Granger, what is your name?”

“Ariadne Granger,” she replied quickly.

“What was your name _at birth_?”

“Harry Potter,” she replied almost reflexively. A truth spell, she supposed glancing at the golden pulse. Griphook almost fell off his chair in shock. The field intensified.

“Just to confirm, please repeat your name as it was _at birth_ ,” he said shakily.

“Harry Potter,” she repeated, shuddering at the name she so hated. The field returned to its idle state. “I’m uh. I’m transgender, so if you don’t mind please don’t call me that.”

“Understood. I too had wondered why the Boy Who Lived had failed to arrive at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year. But that was incorrect; the Girl Who Lived did indeed arrive. Given your apprehension at revealing this secret, I will ensure it kept, by the honour of the Goblin Nation. Does Miss Granger have her key?” Griphook asked.

“Yes, sir,” Ariadne replied, fishing the tiny key Hagrid had given her out of her pocket.

“Very well. I will handle this myself. With me.” With another flick of his wrist, Griphook reopened the room and they followed him out. He led them through another door, this one larger and to a cart on a rail. What followed was a far tamer version of the bus ride there, the cart mercifully manipulating itself to remain level and steady despite the shifting angles of the track. Eventually, it came to a stop. “Vault six hundred and eighty seven,” Griphook announced at the sight of a large round magical door. Everything around here was magical, but the door especially so. Griphook disembarked and walked toward it, followed by the group. “Key please,” he asked. Ariadne once more took it out and handed it to him.

Griphook turned and inserted it into a hidden hatch in the door. Moments later, he twisted it and the sound of numerous mechanisms clicking and clanging into place filled the air, and the door swung back open as he returned the key to Ariadne.

“Holy cricket!” Hermione exclaimed as Ariadne gasped. Even she could see the veritably colossal pile of coins within.

“Hi-ho-how much?” she asked.

“At last count,” Griphook said, flicking his fingers as magic twirled from them. “Three hundred and nineteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety five Galleons.”

“Mister Griphook, what’s the current exchange rate between galleons and the Pound?” Valerie asked, voice hushed. Once again, Griphook’s magic fingers twinkled.

“Favourable to you today; five Pounds, nine Pence to a Galleon.” Valerie released a breath.

“Does muggle technology work down here? Hermione said Ariadne’s recorder didn’t work at Hogwarts.”

“Goblin magic suffers not from the chaotic effects of human magic, so it should. A calculator, I presume?” he replied as Valerie pulled what was indeed a calculator from her handbag. She gasped.

“Merry Christmas Ariadne, you’re a millionaire.” Ariadne jumped, before doing the math in her head and realizing her mother was right. “There’s about 1.9 million pounds in there. Okay, you’re not taking out much, and when we get home we are having a talk about this. You can take out twenty Galleons for the Christmas period, okay?” Overwhelmed by this revelation, Ariadne nodded. That was already a tad over a hundred pounds, and the fact that it was well under even a single percent of her wealth was stunning to her.

“So, to confirm, a withdrawal of twenty Galleons for Ariadne Granger?” Griphook asked. Ariadne could only nod. The goblin stepped forward and took up a handful of coins and put them in a pouch for her to take. “Now, if Miss Granger thinks it prudent, she may release custody of the vault to you as her parent, however this would become a matter of public knowledge. Given previous discussion, a more informal arrangement may be needed. If and when Ariadne’s identity becomes a matter of public knowledge, the public title to the vault may easily be changed to reflect her true name.”

With her money in her pocket, the rest of the trip was a stunned blur for Ariadne. However, she was able to pull herself out of her incredulous contemplation to help choose a gift for Ron; an animated set of Chudley Cannons figurines, complete with a model stadium and tiny balls flitting about. To Ariadne’s disappointment, no miniature Snitch. Seeing the miniature Bludgers attack the tiny players, Valerie told Ariadne to take extra care on the field. She didn’t want to see one of her little princesses with all broken bones because she’d fallen from a broom after taking a direct Bludger hit. The box seemed light enough, and Hermione believed Hermes would be able to carry it. Afterward, they did some more miscellaneous shopping - Ariadne stopped off at a jewelry shop, and after browsing the gleaming magical adornments selected a necklace in the shape of a butterfly with a golden chain - to her it was a gentle pink, enchanted never to get lost according to the shopkeeper. She’d been tempted by a miniature Golden Snitch, but she’d thought it too on-the-nose. Plus, it didn’t even look like the real Snitch did to her. The necklace costed five galleons and three sickles, which dug into Ariadne’s substantial withdrawal, but it was Christmas and the money was _for_ Christmas. Once this had been chosen, Hermione made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts, picking up a number of books for thirteen galleons - books by Gilderoy Lockhart, including _Magical Me_ and _The Gallant Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart_.

As the family stepped back inside the house, Valerie called Dennis to the lounge.

“Dennis. Our daughter is a millionaire,” she said, sounding just as shocked as she had been when she first found out. Dennis laughed.

“I’m sorry, what?! Just how big was the inheritance?”

“The equivalent of 1.9 million pounds, about three hundred and twenty thousand wizard galleons. Now Ariadne, we’re going to set down some ground rules for that, okay?” She said, more of a statement than a question. Ariadne nodded. “Each year, you can take out fifty galleons as an allowance. For the year. Christmas and birthday money not included, of course. By my math that’s almost three hundred pounds worth, well more than enough. And if your sister needs something, you hear her out, okay? I know you’re both named after princesses but I won’t be having the two of you going full ‘rich kid,’ understand?” Valerie said, sternly.

“Yes mum,” Ariadne replied. She wasn’t forlorn about it - she hadn’t intended to splurge with it. That much money would set her up very cozily, and could easily go toward ensuring a comfortable retirement for their parents. She knew what her mother meant by ‘rich kid,’ as she remembered the attitude of Draco Malfoy. The kid probably got a thousand galleons a year as an allowance, going just off his behaviour. He seemed the sort of child nobody had ever said no to, disturbingly like an older Dudley, and she had no intention of becoming that.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay yes, “The Gallant Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart” is a reference to The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Taryon Darrington from Critical Role. I mean the two are pretty much identical in how much of their respective books are accurate.


	24. A Wonderful Christmastime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gifts arrive both by their hiding places in the house and by some harried owls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a part of Chapter 23, but it became quickly apparent that’d be a huge chapter if I did. So I split it up.  
> TW: Trauma from abuse (mentioned).

With jaunty jingles playing on the radio all day and thick snow covering any semblance of magical residue outside, Christmas Day had well and truly arrived. Ariadne hadn’t slept well that night, for many reasons. They’d stayed up pretty late, late enough it might already have been Christmas when they did, finishing off  _ Magical Formula for the Aspiring Spellweaver _ , and once she’d actually gone to bed she’d taken ages to fall asleep. While holidays had been far better with the Grangers, Christmas had been when Dudley had most often been able to exact his wrath on her; a combination of new things to throw and greater presence in the house in the school holiday. The nightmares were always worse around them, and she often found herself afraid of sleeping. As she’d feared, her sleep had been plagued with the history of abuse she’d suffered at their hands and she jolted awake in her bed, breath heavy.

She shot up and sat, slowly and deliberately regaining control of her breath. She wasn’t there. It was just a dream. She wasn’t in the red and purple cupboard, its walls no more than an inch from her on any side. She was in her room. She was home, safe.

She didn’t know what time it was as she groaned and rubbed her eyes. With how late they’d stayed up, it could have been anything from six o’clock in the morning to two o’clock in the afternoon. She did however smell something. Someone was making food, so she stood and hurriedly grabbed her cane. Down the hall, she heard the radio gently emanating festive music and voices in the kitchen.

“Hey, no, you ain’t opening those until ‘Adne’s up! Just because that owl looked tired as all heck doesn’t mean she’s excluded from the fun,” their mum said. As Ariadne popped around the corner, Hermione immediately tore into the wrapping. “Nono- oh, Merry Christmas Ariadne! You’d better get over there, ‘Mione’s got a head start on you. A couple owls arrived, one with a package for each of you and one with two for you, Ariadne.” As Ariadne moved to see the area where the tree was obscuring the surrounding magic, she saw a few magic-encrusted parcels, and two whose labels she could actually see. On one of them was affixed a glittering red rectangle.

“Hey ‘Adne! Sleep well?” Hermione asked as she rustled through a package.

“Ehh, all right. What’ve you got there?” she replied, sitting down beside her. Hermione pulled it out.

“Oh! Aww, it’s from Ron’s mum, she made us jumpers! Should open yours, it’s this one!” she said happily, handing her the parcel with the magic red card on it. As she picked up the card, she jumped as it suddenly leapt into the air and a voice emanated from it as it folded itself into a mouth.

“To Ariadne Granger,” it began with a matronly voice. “Oh I do hope this letter doesn’t shout at you, it’s technically a Howler, they can be nasty sometimes. As I recall from King’s Cross you were blind, so I thought it might be better to send this rather than a normal letter. Ronald’s told us all about you two, I must say you’ve been a good influence on him. Please find enclosed a little something I put together for you - Ron says you can see magic, so I made the A out of some magic thread I got at a little popup market in the countryside. Should keep you nice and warm at Hogwarts eh? Chilly place in winter. I also sent the two of you the proverbial cream of my kitchen’s crop, do enjoy them. Hopefully Errol doesn’t have too hard a time with the parcels,” it continued, hovering as Hermione leant toward it curiously. “Warmly, Molly Weasley.” It paused. “P.S. Oh, er, this letter will shred itself once it’s done, sorry. They make a terrible mess, but I don’t know how to turn that off. I did put a normal card in there so you have something to keep if you like. Merry Christmas Ariadne!” Immediately upon the final enunciation, the letter erupted into bits, the magic glimmer vanishing shortly after.

“Wow. That was nice of her,” Ariadne said, smiling at the disintegrating magic. She tore open the package, and sure enough, within was a woolly jumper emblazoned with a boldly glimmering green A sewn on the front. Beaming, she tugged the garment over her head. It was like a big warm hug, but it was definitely a size too big for her at least. Her hands were well within the sleeves as she giggled. Indeed, Molly had sent a box of mixed pastries, muffins, biscuits and other assorted goodies, which quickly accompanied breakfast - bacon sandwiches - and passed around.

“All right then, what’s that one?” Dennis asked, swallowing a mouthful of bacon. “The box that owl came with?”

“The pastries?” Ariadne asked.

“Nono, different owl. Both the things it brought were for you, one’s soft and the other’s a box.” He picked it up and brought it over - it was the one with a note she could read. It jangled all the way, like it was filled with glass. “Hopefully nothing broke in transit.” Ariadne picked up the note.

> _ Ariadne Lily Granger _
> 
> _ I hope this parcel finds you well and that you’re enjoying your holiday. School policy does not technically allow me to send you gifts, but an accessibility device is another matter. Enclosed should be several months worth of magical ink - I don’t know how much you had left, but given your studiousness I suspect you may be running low. Let me know when you’re on the final pot and I’ll make another batch for you. I’ve also distributed the new formula to your Professors. _
> 
> _ This is also a slightly adjusted formula - I began to notice some of your submitted work was starting to go grey, this should last a lot longer. _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Professor Filius Flitwick, Hogwarts Charms Master and Head of Ravenclaw House _ .

Ariadne eagerly opened the box, taking care not to jostle it too much, and within were a dozen large pots of ink. Sliding one out, she handed it to her dad and resealed the box.

“What’s this?”

“So you can write back. You didn’t happen to bring another spare quill, Hermione?” Ariadne replied.

“Actually, I’ve got that old set of calligraphy pens your great-grandmother gave me when I was little. Never used it, but I’ll go get it and see if that’s any good. If you’d like to take one, you’re welcome to, Hermione said those quills make a horrible noise.” Dennis stood and left, presumably to the attic to find whatever box it was in.

“What about that last one?” Hermione said as Ariadne took another bite out of her sandwich. She leant over and pulled it. The note wasn’t in magical ink, so she passed it to Hermione to read.

“ _ Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well _ ,” she recited. “It’s not signed but… this has to be from Professor Dumbledore, who else could it be? What is it?” she asked as Ariadne tugged the cords off and pulled the wrapping paper off. What was revealed was practically a solid block of green magic, and it deformed as it was released. It was a cloth of some form. She pulled it out, unfolding it as best she could from her sitting position. Was it a blanket, she wondered, frowning. “Looks like it’s meant to be a cloak. Put it on!”

Ariadne stood, holding it up and swung it about her form. As she did, Valerie and Hermione gasped.

“Woah! That’s an Invisibility Cloak!” Hermione exclaimed as Valerie stood.

“I’m invisible?” Ariadne asked, incredulously.

“Well, just your body. Try putting it over your head.” Ariadne complied, her entire vision now dominated by the green cloak, with the exception of the sliver of ground beneath her feet. “You’re entirely invisible now!”

“Am I supposed to be able to see through this?” Ariadne asked. “It’s just a block of magic to me.”

“I don’t know, they’re very rare. Mind if I try?” She took off the cloak and handed it to Hermione, who then covered herself. Conveniently, Ariadne could still see the cloak’s magic, so it wasn’t invisible to her. That might come in handy, she realized. Quirrell had often mentioned camouflage spells one could use to sneak up on one’s opponent, and if they didn’t work on her that gave her an advantage. “Yeah, I can see through it. I’m invisible though, right?”

“I mean  _ I _ can still see it but that’s because it’s magic. Can you see her, mum?” At that moment, Dennis walked in.

“Got it, let’s see- did Hermione go to the bathroom?” he said. Hermione abruptly removed the cloak from her head and Dennis shouted in fright.

“Wa-holy-what the- What did you get?!” he exclaimed. Hermione took off the cloak.

“Invisibility cloak! Dumbledore sent it, we think.” Ariadne replied.

“Well, you’re not using it. That thing stays down here, got it?” Valerie said.

“But Professor Dumbledore said-” Hermione began.

“What you do with it at school is Dumbledore’s business then, but while you’re home it stays in the living room. You two nab enough midnight snacks from down here even without being invisible.” Both of them pouted at the rule, but they knew it was fair. “Pranks… maybe.”

\--

After hurriedly hiding the Cloak when they remembered their grandparents were coming around, the day had gone fairly similarly to most years, although it was even harder than last time to hide the fact they went to a magic school. Eventually Ariadne found herself struggling to keep track of the imaginary stories and half-truths they’d spun and was almost glad that their guests had left. After a heavy dinner and dessert of lamb and trifle, the pair set off to bed again, this time beginning to to leaf through  _ Notable Alchemical Achievements of the Twentieth Century _ \- it was largely a summary of various studies and researches compiled into one larger text. It eventually drew a number of conclusions, each one more contradictory than the next, but it was an interesting read.

“ _ Many studies have been made into the extension of life, both human and otherwise. These have yielded interesting results, however on the occasion that breakthroughs are made they are notoriously difficult to replicate.  _ In brackets _ , Tendrick, A., 1923, Redraven, B., et al, 1901, Hargrove, Y., 1899 and… _ Ariadne!  _ Dumbledore, A., and Flamel, N., 1903 _ ! Nicholas Flamel!” Ariadne shot up as she’d been half falling asleep. Hermione immediately flipped to the back of the heavy book. “Ugh! Why do these never have an index or an actual bibliography?!”

“There’s got to be more information in that section if he’s mentioned,” Ariadne replied. “Hagrid said Fluffy was guarding something and if it’s between Nicholas Flamel and Dumbledore and they looked into life extension then it’s almost certainly related.”

“Yes. Let’s keep looking, I’ll skim until I see something.” Hermione flipped through pages for a few minutes. “Aha! Here it is;  _ Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone. The Philosopher’s Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will transform any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. The only stone currently in existence belongs to Nicholas Flamel, the noted Alchemist who recently celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday _ ! This was published a few years ago, he’d be six hundred and seventy one now!”

“Must have been well known, the Philosopher’s Stone even got into non-magical literature. That must be what’s down that hatch! The Philosopher’s Stone!” Ariadne exclaimed. “But if it grants immortality…”

“That’s why Quirrell’s trying to take it. But why would he want immortality?”

“I don’t know,” Ariadne replied, metaphorical gears turning in her head for the rest of the night as she speculated. She hoped she wasn’t right.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Let’s see how not being able to see out through the invisibility cloak will affect the story, huh?


	25. Light Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mystery begins to unravel before the trio’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things really do be happening ain’t they? Being able to see magic means a few things being discerned a bit earlier. Apologies if I’ve been a bit slower lately, life is a thing.

For the rest of the holidays and the entire train trip back to Hogwarts, Ariadne couldn’t stop thinking about the implications of the Elixir created by the Stone. Immortality could be useful to a number of people, but one candidate was chief among her concerns.

Voldemort.

Quirrell had something against  _ her _ . Her specifically. And whatever was on the back of his head gave her a headache in her scar. A scar given to her by Voldemort, and she couldn’t help but think those two facts were related. The night Quirrell had made a move on the Stone, whatever it was had been far more active.

Was Voldemort possessing him? Was he just straight up Voldemort? No, he couldn’t be. Dumbledore at  _ least _ would recognize him in a heartbeat, the two used to be at war for crying out loud.

She hated how much the idea of Voldemort being Professor Quirrell explained things. He’d tried to  _ kill _ her at her first Quidditch game, and Snape had thwarted him. And he’d evidently attempted to steal the Philosopher’s Stone on Halloween before again being thwarted by Snape. But if Snape knew, why was Quirrell still a Professor?

She didn’t share these concerns with her sister. She knew it was only conjecture, and didn’t want to worry Hermione. Then again, Hermione might have reached the same conclusion already. But now that they were at Hogwarts, they needed to find Ron.

Find being the operative term. He was nowhere to be found. Not in the Great Hall, not in the Common Room, not in any of their classrooms, not even in his dorm according to Dean. They’d waited in the Common Room for a while, in case he was in the bathroom, but unless he was having some severe bowel problems he wasn’t there either. It was only when they gave up and went to the Library to return the books they’d kept over the holidays when Ariadne spotted a yellow and blue swirl.

“Is that-?” she began.

“I- It is,” Hermione replied, leaving most of the books in the returns tray and striding over. “Ronald Weasley, in the library of his own accord? Impossible,” she announced as she approached him.

He didn’t react. Hermione started giggling.

“Is he okay?” Ariadne asked, as Hermione’s laughter intensified.

“He’s- pfffffff- he’s fallen asleep.” She slammed  _ Notable Alchemical Achievements _ down onto the table in front of him. “Wake up sleepyhead!”

“WUAH- whu- wh- Hermione?! Ariadne? You two weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow!” Ron exclaimed, jumping up.

“It  _ is _ tomorrow. Did you manage to fall asleep in here and not get noticed?!” Hermione said incredulously. Ron yawned.

“Guess so... Welcome back, I guess.” Hermione picked up the book Ron had been slumped over.

“In that case, good afternoon Ron. Bathilda Bagshot’s  _ Arcane Guide for Arcanists _ ? You realized you hadn’t read any of them so you started last night, didn’t you?” It was the first book not taken home by the girls that had been on the list.

“No!” Ron protested. “Maybe.”

“Points for trying. Didn’t get very far though, you’re still in the introduction.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Ron exclaimed. “I was here for hours!”

“You  _ really _ need to sort out your studying plan,” Ariadne said, slurring slightly as she parroted Ron’s early criticism of Hermione.

“Happy New Year to you too,” Ron said. “Oh! Thanks for the Quidditch models! They’re wicked! Sorry I couldn’t get you anything, can’t really afford much.”

“That’s fine, it’s not that important. Plus, your mum sent some really nice stuff, like these jumpers she made,” Ariadne said, plucking at the woolen garment.

“Wh- wicked! She’s never done that before, she must really like you two. What’s this?”

“Right! We found him!” Hermione exclaimed as Ron groaned.

“You’re saying you had the book  _ all along _ ?” he said. “I was looking for him all night!”

“We got this out  _ weeks _ ago for a bit of light reading!” Hermione said, sitting down. Ariadne followed, beside her.

“This… is light?” Ron asked incredulously. Ariadne nodded - for their standards, it was quite a quick read.

“Here it is.  _ Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone. _ ” Hermione began.

“The  _ what _ ?”

“Honestly, don’t you read? Even muggles have heard of it.  _ The Philosopher’s Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will transform any metal into pure gold and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.”  _

“Immortal?” Ron said.

“It means you’ll never die,” Ariadne explained.

“ _ I know what it means! _ ”

“Hush.  _ The only stone currently in existence belongs to Nicholas Flamel, the noted Alchemist who recently celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday _ . That’s what Fluffy’s guarding on the third floor. That’s what’s under the trapdoor; the Philosopher’s Stone.”

There was a pause.

“So how does it  _ make _ the Elixir? It’s a stone, how does it make a drink?” Ron asked. Ariadne started cackling. Leave it to Ron to find the funny side of the mysteries. “Or is  _ stone _ just the name? Do you squeeze it?”

\--

Despite Ron’s ability to find a funny side, the seriousness of the matter was more important. So they went to the one person they knew already knew they knew but also hadn’t tried to kill them. 

Rubeus Hagrid.

As the afternoon sun was tapering off in the warmth it bestowed on Ariadne’s face, they carefully made their way toward his house. It took a bit for her to manage the bumpy steps and knolls of the hillside, but eventually they stood atop the step with Hermione banging on the door.

The door creaked open and the magical interior of his hut bled out into the frankly void-like world, the massive colourful form of Hagrid leaning through it.

“Hagrid!” Hermione said.

“Oh hello! Sorry, don’t wish to be rude, but I’m in no fit state to entertain today,” Hagrid told them, hurriedly before beginning to swing the door back closed.

“We know about the Philosopher’s Stone!” they all cried, in unison. Quite by accident too.

The door swung back open.

“Oh,” was all Hagrid said, darkly. Leaving the door open, the man retreated into the house. Ron and Hermione eagerly followed, and Ariadne carefully probed her way into the irregular building. Ron and Hermione took a bench, while Ariadne was happy to usurp what must have been the big leather seat Hagrid had been sitting in. Also as far away from the dog she could hear and very slightly sense beside Ron as possible.

“We think Quirrell’s trying to steal it,” Ariadne announced as she sat.

“Blimey, you’re not still on about him are ye?” Hagrid said, nervously.

“We know Quirrell’s been trying to get to it and Snape’s been stopping him, we just don’t know why!” Ariadne protested.

“Quirrell and Snape are two of the teachers protecting the Stone! They’re not about to play a game of cat and mouse, are they?” Hagrid replied, now almost dismissive.

“What?” Ron said.

“You heard. Right, c’mon now, I’m a bit preoccupied today,” Hagrid was back to trying to get them to leave. What was he up to?

“Of course! There’re other things defending the Stone, aren’t there?” Ariadne said.

“Yes! Spells, enchantments, not just Fluffy!” Hermione continued as Hagrid’s dog began slobbering on Ron by the sound of it. Hermione shuffled over away from them.

“That’s right. Waste of bloody time if you ask me. Ain’t no-one’s going to get past Fluffy. Ain’t a soul knows how! ‘Cept for me and Dumbledore!” Hagrid said. He paused. “I shouldn’t have told you that,  _ I should not have told you that _ .”

“He’s not being treated very well, you know,” Hermione said. “That can’t be a good place for him.”

“No,” Ariadne said. “It’s like living in a cupboard. And I know what that’s like.” Hagrid sighed and almost crashed down in another chair.

“Hhh. I know,” he said, mournfully. “I keep telling Dumbledore, boy needs space, at least the rest o’ the wing but no. It’s out’a my hands.” Hagrid sniffed. “Now you go on now, it’s getting late.”

Something rattled behind Hagrid. Her attention drawn, Ariadne sat up and peered over the lip of what looked like a cauldron and saw a sphere. No, not a sphere, but a spheroid of sorts, a spheroid of gently swirling gold, green and oily black. She frowned. It definitely wasn’t a potion, either that or Hagrid had been brewing something with far less skill than necessary and it had congealed in some way.

“Er, come on now, off you pop,” he said as they stood. Hagrid seemed desperate for them to leave, and while Ariadne’s instinct was to follow his instruction, her curiosity won out.

“Hagrid. What’s that?” she asked, tilting her head toward the pot.

“That? It’s- uh. Nothing, nothing to worry about,” the huge man said, unconvincingly. Hermione leant over.

“An egg?” Hermione said. Ron joined her.

“ _ I  _ know what that is!” he exclaimed, almost glad to know more in a field than the two encyclopedic sisters. “But Hagrid… how did you get one?” he asked.

“I  _ won _ it. Off a stranger I met down the pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, matter of fact…”

“An egg… in a fire? Are you cooking it?” Ariadne said, frowning.

“Of  _ course _ not! I’m incubatin’ it!” Hagrid exclaimed, sounding almost offended at the suggestion. Hermione leant back away from the cauldron.

“Is this… a dragon egg?” Hermione asked. Ron leant closer.

“That’s not just a dragon egg. Looks like a Ridgeback breed. My brother Charlie works with these in Romania!” At Ron’s confirmation, Ariadne’s mind was set aflame with the fantasy stories they’d read in the past, of great flying beasts, torching cities with their firey breath. They’d read a little about the creatures, but not much. Hermione, it seemed, remembered more than she did.

“A Ridgeback? Those are pretty big aren’t they, once they’ve grown up? Where is it going to live?” Hermione said.

“Oh I’ll think of something. It’ll need training o’course, can’t have it torching the grounds now can we!” Hagrid replied. Ariadne frowned.

“I thought you needed permits to keep a dragon? We’d know if you had them, it’s a matter of public record.” Ariadne said, seriously.

“Er. They’re takin’ a bit to get sent, but I got them. The papers should get here b’fore he hatches.” That sounded like a lie to Ariadne, but she thought it best not to push it. “Now seriously, off ya pop. I got things to do, not just minding this here egg. Something’s been hunting unicorns in the Forest, I think for their blood and I’ll be investigatin’ tonight. I do have a  _ job _ as Groundskeeper, you know.” With the impression they’d overstayed their welcome, the trio shuffled out of the house and Ariadne prepared to probe the way back up, a task that promised to be somewhat slower than the original trip.

No questions answered, but a few new ones. If Quirrell was helping  _ protect _ the stone, surely he’d have access already? As would Snape. They should have a back way, but if even Snape got injured then they must have wanted this guarded pretty heavily to not even have one. But even then, why would Quirrell be protecting it? Maybe it was a facade and his contribution wouldn’t bother him.

And who had given Hagrid a dragon egg? And even if it had been won in a game, why was it even on the table? She couldn’t help but add the Ridgeback to her little internal pile of mysteries, not to mention the unicorn blood. She could have sworn she’d read about it. Uses for potions? Possibly, but it didn’t seem like something Snape had mentioned. 

Ron broke her thoughts as he spoke, uncharacteristically carefully.

“Ariadne,” he said.

“Yes?”

“What… what did you mean when you said you knew what that’s like?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

“About knowing what it’s like to live in a cupboard…”

“Oh,” Ariadne said. She’d forgotten Ron didn’t know. “You know I’m not related to Hermione - I was adopted. She rescued me from, well, my relatives. An aunt and uncle.” She shivered as she remembered the atrocities committed against her. “I’d rather not talk about it.” Ron didn’t say anything as he turned back to walking.

As they climbed the steps, Ron occasionally jumping forward and waiting, she cast her mind’s magical eye about as she probed and was met with a stabbing pain in her forehead from the tiniest flicker of static a ways away. She couldn’t be sure, but whatever it was looked like it was at the edge of the forest, heading inward.

And she was significantly more sure that it was Professor Quirrell, as a headache set in from the clearly active blob upon his distant head.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone’s wondering why certain things didn’t happen; because Hermione found Flamel earlier, they also go see Hagrid earlier in the day. Norbert hasn’t hatched yet when they leave, they are not out of bed after hours, and as such do not get detention.


	26. Deeper Truths Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More mysteries are unveiled, and not just those of the Philosopher’s Stone and the unicorn hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to divert a little from main canon, but not too far just yet.

“Unicorn blood…” Hermione pondered as they entered the Common Room. “Hagrid said someone was hunting unicorns for their blood.”

“Yeah, so?” Ron said.

“Unicorn blood has similar properties to the Elixir created by the Stone, according to that book. But it’s got drawbacks. Big drawbacks. It will extend life, but not… properly? It curses anyone who drinks it, it didn’t say how. Something about a half-life. But somehow I don’t think it makes you radioactive.”

“Radioactive?”

“It’s when-” Ariadne began, cutting herself off. “Long story,” she said, waving her hand and rubbing her temples. The headache had only gotten worse since leaving Hagrid’s house, and she was glad to sit down. “What if it’s - GAH!” Ariadne cried out in pain as she doubled over and a sensation not unlike being viciously stabbed in the forehead over and over overwhelmed her senses.

“Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed, leaping over and taking her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Ngggggg - I don’t know this has never happened before! Hyagh!” She clamped both hands over her head. It was like something was  _ attacking _ her.

“What’s happening, what’s wrong?!” Ron asked.

“Ughhhhhhh - it’s Quirrell, it has to be. He was going into the woods earlier, gave me a headache,” she said as it began to very slightly dull.

“What?! How can Quirrell give you a headache?!”

“He’s got this thing on his head, it’s all flickery and weird -  _ gahhhhhhh ow ow ow _ \- always gives me a headache.  _ But it’s never been this bad. _ ” Eventually it faded back into a dull throb, more intense than earlier but no longer incapacitating as she groaned and leant back. “What the  _ hell _ was that?!” she asked nobody in particular, running her hands through her hair.

Ron gasped. Hermione’s magic jumped into overdrive, even more than it had when she’d first doubled over. Ariadne frowned.

“What?” she asked as Hermione quickly knelt between her and Ron.

“ _ ‘Adne, your scar _ ,” she whispered. Ariadne’s eyes widened in fear. Ron had seen it.

“Ariadne…” Ron said, slowly. Ariadne inhaled shakily.  _ Oh hell. _

“Sit down, Ron,” she mumbled.

“You’ve got a… a scar…” he said. The jig was most definitely up.

“Yes,” she replied, wincing as her head throbbed. “I do.”

“But you can’t be…” Ariadne needed to figure out how to tell him this. But how on earth would she begin? “You can’t be Harry Potter.” She bit her lip. She had never been more glad for the current desertion of the Common Room.

“I used to be. Didn’t it ever seem strange to you, that I was adopted but my name was so similar to Hermione’s? Don’t you think that’s a strange coincidence, both of us named after Greek princesses?” she said, measured and slowly. “We chose my name together,” she added, pointing between herself and Hermione.

“Wait, but… Harry Potter’s a boy. You’re a girl.” It seemed Ron was only more confused now.

“No. No, she wasn’t a boy. I’m.. I’m transgender. And I was Harry James Potter. When I was little. But now I’m Ariadne Lily Granger.”

“You’re what?”

“Transgender. It’s not quite an accurate way of explaining it but for the sake of simplicity, she was born with a boy’s body but she’s a girl,” Hermione offered as Ariadne floundered.

“..Is it a curse?” Ron asked.

“No. It’s nothing to do with magic, it’s actually completely natural. She told me when she was seven and we picked a new name for her together.”

“O...kay…”

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please, nobody can know,” Ariadne pleaded, on the verge of tears.

“Wh-h-which one?”

“Both.” Ariadne pulled her fringe back down. “That I’m the Girl Who Lived  _ or _ that I’m trans. Both could get me hurt.” Now it was Ron’s magic fluctuating. Ariadne took a deep breath. “Okay, I can  _ see _ you’re confused with this so I’ll go back and start at the beginning.”

She heard Ron hum in affirmation.

“Yes please,” he said, shakily.

“Okay. I was born with the body of a boy. So, I was treated as one and my birth parents called me Harry James Potter. It was the middle of the war with Voldemort, and despite their protections, Voldemort managed to find them. Voldemort killed my birth parents, but failed to kill me for some reason.” She thought an explanation of the wards would just be too complicated. “His curse backfired, and he died, leaving me with this scar. Dumbledore had Hagrid bring me to a new house - the house of my mother’s sister, and her husband. Those were my aunt and uncle. I was left on the doorstep, and from then on I lived with them.” Ariadne took another deep breath. “They-they hated me. Th-they hurt me. They-they kept me in th-the cupboard under the stairs. Th-m-m-My cousin, their son, sprayed bleach in my eyes when I was three. They - hhh - they didn’t take me to a hospital or anything, so I’m blind now.” Ron took a sharp breath in at that description and she idly took note of Hermione taking her hand as her stammer intensified and she increasingly slurred between words.

“So when did…” he began.

“I-I’m getting to that. Uncle Vernon didn’t w-want me in the house when he had visitors, so he made me go out. I couldn’t see, b-b-b-bu-b-but I found a park to wait at. Usually it was night-time, so nobody was around. But when I was six, I met Hermione there. I fell over, and Mum gave me a plaster.” She shuddered. “Uncle Vernon hit me for having it. But the next day, some men came and found me - They took me away from there.” At these memories, she smiled. “And then Mum and Dad adopted me. So then I was Harry Granger.” She said the name hurriedly, sick of saying her deadname and glad she wouldn’t have to say it again. “I started going to school. Got bullied a lot, but I’d had worse from my relatives. And I started to realize I was a girl. Inside. Up here.” Ariadne tapped her head, regretting it immediately as her headache was still present. “I told Hermione and we eventually went to the library to find me a new name; she was named after a Greek princess and we thought it’d be nice to do the same. I chose Ariadne, and from then on I was Ariadne Lily Granger,” she said with pride. “We told Mum and Dad and after a while they let me go to school as me. I got bullied for that too. But I didn’t know anything about Voldemort or any of that until Hermione’s eleventh birthday and Professor McGonagall found out it was me. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon are non-magical, so they never told me. Does all that make sense?” Ron floundered a bit.

“Uh.. I.. I think so. So Ha- you don’t like your old name, right?”

“No. It’s called a deadname,” Ariadne replied.

“Deadname. Deadname,” Ron muttered, mulling the word over in his head. “So would you prefer I not say your dead name?” Ariadne nodded. “So H. Potter  _ did _ come to Hogwarts. But because you’re not H. Potter anymore, nobody knew?” Ariadne was glad he’d at least abbreviated it and again nodded. “Ha! That’s wicked!” Ron stood and paced a bit. He began laughing. “My best friend was the Bo-Girl Who Lived the whole time and I didn’t even know!” Even Hermione giggled a bit at that, as Ariadne sat up sharply. Someone considered her their best friend. Even over the other boys of the House.

That had never happened before.

“Merlin’s beard, if Ginny knew I was friends with you…” he said.

“Ginny?” Ariadne asked.

“My little sister,” he explained. “She’s obsessed with you, or old you. Mum says she wouldn’t stop talking about how H. Potter hadn’t turned up.”

“Please don’t tell her,” Ariadne said. “I’m not ready for people to know yet. Wizards are even less progressive than non-magic people, if they find out I’m trans…” She thought for a moment. “You might as well know. I have a theory about Quirrell that depends on it.”

“Okay, yeah. What’s your idea?” Ron said, sitting down again.

“Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort didn’t actually die. He thinks Voldemort was just… weakened, or something. So he vanished. And Quirrell’s flickery thing hurts around my scar mostly. What if Quirrell is possessed? By Voldemort?” she said, quietly.

“That makes more sense than I’d like,” Hermione said. “If there’s some sort of connection between you and Voldemort by your scar, and you’ve never seen anything like what’s on Quirrell’s head…”

“Oh! Oh! Flitwick said that Quirrell went on a trip last year! Before that he didn’t have the turban on! What if he’s hiding something under it?” Ron exclaimed.

“Wait, Flitwick?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, when I went to get the chessboard painted. Oh! I’ll go get that in a bit, I forgot.”

“Right, thanks. If Voldemort was weakened, it makes sense he’d want the Philosopher’s Stone! He’d be strong again! He’d come back.” Ariadne said.

“That’s why he was going into the forest!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Huh?” Ron said.

“Hagrid said  _ someone was hunting unicorns for their blood _ ! Unicorn blood has restorative properties! And Ariadne saw Quirrell going into the woods! What if unicorn blood is close enough to sustain him as he is but not enough to do more? And what happened just now to ‘Adne’s scar was him drinking it?”

“Oh… So  _ that _ ’s why he tried to kill you at Quidditch! And to think; I’ve been worried about my Potions final...”

“As long as Dumbledore’s around, you’re safe, though, Ariadne. Right?” Hermione said. “He’s the one wizard Voldemort always feared.”

“I don’t know. He didn’t know Quirrell tried to get the Stone, or that he tried to kill me, or Quirrell would have been sacked by now.  _ And _ he was the one who sent me to the Dursleys,” Ariadne said. “I don’t know if he’s the all-powerful wizard everyone says he is.”

Once the sour mood had become awkward, Ron bustled off to grab the painted chessboard, saying that a game might help.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the cat is out of the bag. How long until it gets further? We shall see.


	27. Headaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio keep a keen eye - or mind - on Quirrell, and it pays off only in headaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Events are coming to a head! Might be some more diversion from canon, who knows?

After soundly beating Ron at a game of chess now that she could sense where the squares on his board were, Ariadne joined Hermione in finally going to sleep. When morning finally came, she was disgruntled to realize that her headache, while dull, hadn’t subsided.

It didn’t at any point during that day either.

Or the day after.

Or indeed that week. It wasn’t helped by it being reinstated by proximity in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, where Ariadne was wary of her potentially evil Professor. She did find the hypothetical puppet of Voldemort teaching defence against his master’s own arts amusing, though.

She wondered whether she should tell Professor Dumbledore her concerns. But then again, if he hadn’t truly understood the mechanics of the very wards he’d created, who knew if Dumbledore would see it as anything more than circumstantial. It wasn’t _evidence_. With exams approaching as well, she had to admit she shared Hermione’s apprehension about interrupting everyone’s studies that late, but she did know that if it became necessary it would have to take precedence to remove Quirrell from his post.

As the weeks, and eventually months, went by, Ariadne continued practicing with her ink. While both she and Hermione agreed that perhaps the possible presence of Voldemort at Hogwarts wasn’t something they should tell their parents about else they try get them removed from the school, but what they did share was the shenanigans involving Hagrid’s dragon. They conveniently omitted the illegality of his owning the egg. Much as the Groundskeeper had been argumentative though, he did eventually acknowledge that he most definitely could _not_ keep Norbert, as he had taken to calling the Norwegian Ridgeback. Remembering that Ron’s older brother worked with such a species in Romania, the four collaborated over a few weeks to arrange for a somewhat clandestine pickup of the rapidly growing drake off the Astronomy Tower.

Charlie himself had come, aloft on a broom with four fellow dragonologists, to collectively carry Norbert in his sizeable travel case from the Scottish castle to the Romanian dragonlodge. Ariadne wondered just how illegal this was, given Hagrid already didn’t have the permits to have Norbert in the first place and she was convinced that this constituted international smuggling of a heavily regulated magical creature. A tearful Hagrid had said his goodbyes atop the tower with a gentleness and love that would seem atypical to somebody who’d based their impression of the man on stereotypes of his size alone. Ariadne knew better than to judge him a brute though; her first true conversation with the man had been him enraged and crying at how she’d been treated by the Dursleys.

But once Charlie and his buddies had gently swooped away with their bundle in hand, Hagrid had escorted them back to Gryffindor Tower for the night and life had returned to normal for a time.

Her handwriting improved quickly. She’d always been a quick study even when her notetaking ability had been limited, but now she’d been unleashed. They’d heard of things she could use to _write_ braille before, but they’d never been able to actually find them. Now, she could take every note she needed and write to her parents without having to go through Hermione. She felt a little less lonely, with a semi-regular line of communication to them.

While her grades had been wavering upon the dysfunction of her recorder last term, she’d immediately shot back up this term, even surpassing Hermione on many an occasion. Astronomy was the only class she’d not excelled in, but she’d done quite well upon sensing diagrams of what they were studying.

At no point, however did her constant headache cease. In fact, it continued to get worse as Quirrell’s static only intensified and her scar pulsed in pain. Many a long night of studying was spent wishing Hogwarts had painkillers readily available, and she’d idly wondered whether she should go to Madam Pomfrey. But to be fair, she didn’t actually know that it was anything physical, perhaps painkillers wouldn’t even do anything to a magical cause.

Despite his protestations, Ariadne and Hermione roped Ron into their studying sessions. He’d been nowhere near as enthusiastic and had fallen asleep most of those nights - they usually just left him on the couch with a blanket and made sure the fire didn’t burn out; he didn’t seem to mind. He’d been improving a bit, and even remembered when asked the crucial ingredients of a Forgetfulness Potion.

Exams came in late July, and the girls were surprised by the ease they had completing them. First came Charms, followed by an apprehensive Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, Potions, Transfiguration and so on. The final day, a letter from Charlie came updating them of Norbert’s time. Norbert, who they’d renamed Norberta upon discovering the drake was female, had been doing well, and was integrating well with the other dragons at the lodge.

One thing bubbled through Ariadne’s mind as she completed the last exam. The egg’s origin. Hagrid had gotten the dog _and_ the dragon from someone “down the pub.” A dragon egg wasn’t something you parted with happily.

“I’d always heard Hogwarts’ end of year exams were frightful. But I found that rather enjoyable,” Hermione said as the three left the Hall and walked the grounds a bit to get some fresh air.

“I thought it’d be worse, yeah. But I suppose we’re just first years,” Ron replied. “You all right there ‘Adne?” he asked. Ariadne’s scar had been increasingly worse for months, and she was holding her left arm to her head.

“Yeah, it’s just.. You know what. It keeps burning.” The bouts of stronger pain were more frequent those days, but she’d learnt to deal with them.

“It’s been getting worse, hasn’t it?” Hermione asked.

“Perhaps you should see the nurse,” Ron said.

“I don’t think she could do anything. It’s not a physical headache. Agh.” A sound hit her ears; Hagrid was playing his flute as he sat in the courtyard. The _egg_. “Oh…” she said, beginning to probe her way across the field with purpose. “Of course.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked, catching up quickly.

“It’s a bit odd, isn’t it? What Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon egg and a stranger turns up who just happens to have one in his pocket? Bets it on a game at the pub?! Nobody does that. Why didn’t we see it before?” The trio almost ran across the field, Ariadne taking care not to encounter any bumps in the grass.

“Hagrid! Who gave you the dragon egg?” Hermione asked, as they approached. His flute coiled off. “What did he look like?”

“I dunno, never saw his face, kept his hood up.” Ariadne cursed the fact that nobody else could see people regardless of such obscuration.

“The stranger though; you and he must have _talked_ ,” Ariadne pressed.

“Well he, he wanted to know what sort o’ creatures I looked after. I told him-”

“Creatures? You’re the groundskeeper, d-a- how did he know you worked with magical creatures?” She asked.

“Must have come up, I guess. I was drinkin’ a bit, can’t say I remember it all word for word ye know. I said, after Fluffy, a dragon’d be no trouble at all.”

“Did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“Well _of course_ he was interested in Fluffy. How often do you come across a three-headed dog even if you’re in the trade?!” Hagrid replied. “But I told him, I said, I said the trick with any beast is to know how to calm it.” Ariadne realized that if he’d made mistakes telling _them_ things, who knew what he’d tell to someone while tipsy. “Take Fluffy for example.” _Oh no_. “Just play him a bit of music and he falls straight t’ sleep!”

“Wh… please don’t tell me you told him that,” Ariadne said.

“I… _oh bugger_. I shouldn’t have told you that either!”

“W… we have to go!” Ariadne exclaimed, jogging off and doing the bare minimum of probing. She hoped she wouldn’t trip, but this complicated things. Snape had been injured by Fluffy heading Quirrell off, which meant Quirrell hadn’t been able to get past the dog either. _If it had been Quirrell who gave Hagrid the egg…_ “We have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore,” she said to the other two as they left Hagrid confused behind them.

They hurried to Professor McGonagall’s current study hall. It was mostly deserted with exams largely over, but a ghost was at a seat with a book. Ariadne was initially confused but dismissed it. Who was she to judge? When you’re a ghost why not follow up on your schoolwork? They scattered up to the desk where McGonagall was sitting.

“We have to speak to Professor Dumbledore! Immediately!” she exclaimed.

“I’m afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here,” McGonagall replied, slightly shocked at the abrupt arrival. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London.”

“Terrible timing. This is important!” Ariadne said.

“Well I’m afraid it will have to wait, Miss Granger.”

“Seriously!” She took a deep breath. “This is about the Philosopher’s Stone,” she said, trying not to let the ghost hear and desperately hoping she didn’t stutter. She didn’t, but the words did slur together a little bit. McGonagall leant forward.

“How do you know about the-”

“Someone’s going to try and steal it!”

“I don’t know how you three found out about the Stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected.” Ariadne briefly considered whether to reveal who. But they didn’t have any evidence! “Now would you three go back to your dormitories? Quietly.”

Heads hanging, the three left the hall.

“That wasn’t a stranger that gave Hagrid Norberta’s egg. It was Quirrell. Now he knows how to get past Fluffy,” Ariadne said.

“And with Dumbledore gone...” Hermione began, as Ariadne turned to meet the form of Professor Snape approaching from behind.

“Good afternoon…” he said. “Now what would three young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside, on a day like this?” Ariadne watched Hermione’s magic go jumpy.

“I-a-w-wh-” she began. She’d probably gone nonverbal from the unexpected arrival and was trying to push through it.

“I have a hard time on grass, Professor,” Ariadne said to rescue Hermione. It wasn’t technically a lie. She held up her cane. “Difficult to probe.”

“Well, you’ll want to be careful. People might think you’re… up to something.” Snape swooped back away, long measured strides tapping down the hall.

Ariadne’s mind exploded.

“uh-W-Wait! P-P-Prof-f-f-essor Snape!” she called. The man turned like a hawk and she shrunk back a bit. “We need to talk with you.” The man slunk back over to the group.

“By all means. Talk,” he said, somehow even more intimidating.

“I-i-in private,” she said. Snape huffed and began walking again.

“Follow.” Snape began leading them away, seeming to search for something.

“What are you _doing_?!” Ron whispered to Ariadne. She didn’t reply. Right now, she was too busy figuring out how to explain everything to Snape. The man impatiently led the group to another, smaller study hall and sat down.

“Go on… Miss Granger,” Snape said.

“Professor Quirrell is trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone,” Ariadne said. Snape shot up in his seat and whipped out his wand, casting a bubble around the group - it didn’t look dissimilar to the soundproofing performed by Griphook.

“How do you know of this?” he asked.

“Co-mm-co-coincidence mostly. I know you stopped him from killing me at Quidditch. And Hermione says you were injured that night with the troll. Fluffy, I presume? Stopping Quirrell, we think.” Snape stayed still.

“I am... aware... of Professor Quirrell’s activities. Anything else, Miss Granger?” he asked, seeming shocked but impatient.

“I think he’s going to try again tonight, if Dumbledore’s in London,” Ariadne replied. Snape stood, looming over the trio.

“Then you can rest assured that he will not succeed. You are not to involve yourselves in any manner. Is that... clear?” he said, a sense of finality to his tone.

“Yes, Professor,” the three mumbled.

“You will return to your dormitories and remain there.” Snape swung around the desk and flicked his wand, popping the soundproofing bubble and leaving the room before they had a chance to respond.

“ _Now_ what do we do?!” Hermione whispered to Ariadne.

“We ‘involve ourselves.’ Tonight,” Ariadne replied. She didn’t trust that Snape would be able to prevent Quirrell, and if Voldemort got the Stone…

The consequences could be unimaginable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Hagrid was at his house in the first movie, but I would like to render the layout of the grounds a bit more consistent for this. So he’s in a courtyard instead.  
> It made sense to me for Snape to be informed - they know he’s on their side this time.


	28. Down The Hatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne, Hermione and Ron involve themselves in the matter of Quirrell’s pursuit of the Stone, against the instructions of Professor Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

Once they were confident that their dormmates were asleep, Hermione and Ariadne quietly made their way down the tower to the Common Room landing where Ron was waiting. Ariadne didn’t have her cane with her, and was holding tight onto Hermione’s arm, her other holding a glimmering green bundle and a splitting headache pounding in her forehead.

“Is that-?” Ron whispered.

“Yes,” Ariadne replied. “Come on.” They crept down the final small staircase, Ariadne being very careful about where she put her feet. The amount of stairs between them and the third floor was daunting without her cane, but she wouldn’t be able to use it. The Common Room was deserted… mostly. As they found themselves at the bottom of the stairs, Ariadne saw a tiny glimmer of magic. Neville’s toad croaked in alarm at their presence.

“Trevor…” Ron whispered. “Go on, shoo! You shouldn’t be here!”

“Ngh! Neither should you,” came the voice of Neville Longbottom as he sat up suddenly, evidently having fallen asleep on the sofa. He stood. “You’re sneaking out, aren’t you?!”

“Nnn-now Neville, listen-” Ariadne began.

“No! I won’t let you! You’ll get Gryffindor into trouble!” Neville exclaimed. Ariadne winced, hoping nobody could hear him. “I-I-I’ll fight you!” Hermione took a deep breath.

“Neville? I’m really really sorry about this.” She took out her wand from her jacket and pointed it directly at Neville. “ _ Petrificus Totalus _ .” A wave of purple energy flew from Hermione’s wand, waving over Neville’s form and producing an odd glimmering silhouette which stood rigid before Neville fell to the floor in the same position. Hermione returned her wand to her jacket.

“...you’re a bit scary sometimes, you know that. Brilliant. But scary,” Ron said.

“We both know it, it’s a shockingly simple spell. Let’s go,” Ariadne replied, beginning to gently probe with her foot. Hermione took her arm and guided her, while she focused on not tripping on a rug she knew was around there somewhere. Avoiding Neville was slightly easier, since he was outlined by Hermione’s Petrification Curse, and the three apologized to the boy as they went past - Ariadne knew and could see he was still conscious. As the trio reached the door, Ariadne unfurled the Invisibility Cloak.

“Now, I can’t see through this. You guys can, so I’m going to need you to make sure I don’t trip, okay?” Ariadne said, handing Hermione the cloak and offering each one of her hands. The two pulled in close to her and took her hands and Hermione draped the cloak over them.

Now this was going to be hard.

Her magic sense was dominated by the all-encompassing green screen of the Invisibility Cloak, with only a pool of oily floor and the colours of her sister and friend on either side of her visible. Ron pushed open the door, and while she couldn’t quite see enough silhouette to make out his hand, the deformation of the cloak showed her enough. She carefully stepped over the threshold, only able to make it out when the cloak flowed over it.

From this point on, she relied on the pair, each of whom held one of her hands tightly. She was certain she could feel Hermione’s heartbeat through it, but it might have been her own. She focused on her footsteps, letting the others guide her around the first corner. She couldn’t help but hear the soft clicks of their shoes, thoughts of being caught filling her mind.

After the second corner came the moment Ariadne had been dreading. The first of multiple flights of stairs. They stopped, as she unconsciously held her breath.

“It’s okay, we’ve got you,” Hermione whispered. They took the first step, and Ariadne carefully placed her right foot down. Once she was certain it was secure, she put her left on the same step. Much as she felt childish for it, it was safer.

Second step.

Third.

Growing confident, Ariadne fell into a cycle and the group made good progress. Within a minute, they’d descended one flight, and were moving onto the second.

First step - right foot, then left.

Second step.

Third step.

Fourth.

Fifth.

Sixth.

Two flights down. Three more to go.

“Hold up,” Ron said, quietly. They stopped, looking at him quizzically. He let go of Ariadne’s arm, sounding like he was moving his own around. 

“Arms tired?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah. Mind holding the cloak up for a bit, Ariadne?” Ron said. She tentatively held her arms up and out, letting the fabric drape over her. “Okay, I’m good,” Ron replied. “Let’s go.” Returning the cloak to the hands of Ron and Hermione, Ariadne held her hands out for them to take. Secure once more, the group turned to the third flight of stairs.

“Okay, you see it?” Hermione asked.

“Yep,” Ariadne replied, putting her foot down. Next foot down, she moved her right down to the second stair. She began lowering her left. 

Ron lurched suddenly as he must have stepped on the cloak. His hand suddenly left Ariadne’s arm, pulling her off balance as she fell.

She slammed onto the stone staircase with a crack, rolling out from under the cloak.

“Woah!” Ron exclaimed, as his side of the cloak restablized and she came to a stop after a second or two near the bottom of the staircase.

The staircase which Ariadne could see from outside the cloak, and surrounding her was the staircase and the litany of paintings all around. Panicking, she struggled to stand, grabbing wildly into the darkness for a hand rail or anything she could hold on to. Losing her balance, she fell the final few steps onto the landing, aches erupting through her back.

“Who’s there?!” Argus Filch bellowed. She couldn’t tell where he was, and her heart leapt into her throat as she frantically stood. The shape of the cloak stopped sneaking and rushed over to her, footsteps filling the stairwell as Ron and Hermione hurriedly threw the cloak over her. Hermione squeaked and let go of the arm she’d just taken and her breathing was muffled by her hand. Ron too made an effort to hold his breath, and Ariadne got the message. Filch was nearby. She slowly moved her hands to cover her nose and mouth, while Hermione’s core became more and more distressed.

Filch’s footsteps got closer. Ariadne tensed as she realized he was on the staircase she’d just fallen down.

_ Click. Click.  _ **_Click_ ** **.**

Filch grunted dismissively and his footsteps began getting further away.

Ariadne waited. She didn’t know where Filch was, Ron and Hermione did. So she waited for them to relax.

Hermione released the breath she’d been holding.

“Blimey, I thought he had us,” Ron whispered.

“D…d-di did he get close?” Ariadne asked.

“Uh.. you could say that, yes. Come on, we’ve got to move. You okay, Hermione?” No response. “Hermione?” Hermione squeezed Ariadne’s arm as she held it.

“She’s okay. Just… quiet right now,” Ariadne whispered. “Let’s go.”

The trio took the next few staircases slower, methodically making sure Ariadne was stable on any given step  _ before _ either Hermione or Ron moved. After what she swore must have been almost an hour of constant staircase, Hermione spoke.

“Here we are, third floor corridor.” The door was opened with a painfully loud creak, and closed again as quietly as possible once they’d passed through it. “All clear?” Hermione asked Ron as she span a little.

“Seems like,” Ron replied, hoisting the cloak back up and revealing the familiar void of the third-floor corridor lined with red dots. It was even vaguer than before, as nobody had probably spent much time there other than their previous misadventure, but with prior knowledge she could identify the slight bleed of blue light from Fluffy’s cupboard.

Not only that, but she could see a person lying outside the door.

Professor Snape.

“Good thing we came,” Ariadne said, pointing.

“What, why?” Ron asked. She realized the torches must not have been lit. She began carefully striding toward the seemingly unconscious form of Snape, torches lashing out in red sparks as they lit. “Oh. Blimey.”

“Is he okay?” Hermione asked, anxiously.

“I can see him, so he’s not dead. D-doesn’t look petrified though, I think he’s just knocked out.”

“Quirrell must be down the hatch already!” Ron exclaimed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Hermione said, striding up to the door and once again unlocking it. Ariadne realized they didn’t exactly have a plan as the door swung open with a squeak. Luckily, it didn’t seem they needed one as the room was filled with the gentle plucking of a harp and the oscillating snore of the three-headed dog.

“Quirrell’s already been here,” Ariadne said, immediately turning to the glittering yellow shape of the standing harp to their right. “It’s enchanted, but it looks like it’s fading. We need to be quick.”

“Eurgh,” Ron said. “It’s got horrible breath.” Ariadne glanced around at the now very visible to her room. At least it seemed to have windows, but it was in no way big enough for the dog.

“We need to move his paw,” Hermione said, dashing over quietly and seeming to beckon Ron over. Ariadne followed. “Wait, can you..?”

“I can see it enough, this place is pretty magical. Push!” Ariadne replied, heaving the gigantic paw that covered the latched trapdoor away. It was almost disorienting, being able to sense so well the entire room around her. The harp was rapidly losing colour, and was sure to stop any minute. Once the paw was away and the trapdoor clear, Hermione leant down and pulled it up.

“What’s down there, Ariadne?” Ron said. Ariadne peered over the edge.

“It’s like… blue ropes, lots of them. It’s not a far drop, I think we’ll be -” the harp abruptly went dark and her head shot up to face it. Fluffy shifted and stopped snoring. “Jump, now!” she hissed, wishing she could close her eyes in such a way to not see the fall and flung herself down the small hole, screaming in terror and followed by a wailing Hermione and Ron as the bellowing roars of Fluffy’s three heads filled the air above them.

Magic walls hurtled past her at breakneck speeds, losing their colour before abruptly regaining it as she was caught by a sticky, slimy mass of tendrils.

It  _ smelled _ . She peeled her hand away from the horrible texture, cringing and trying to keep both of her hands on her clothes. Hermione sounded just as disturbed by the feeling of what was clearly a plant of some sort, as she whimpered a little. Ariadne had to admit though, she was glad the spongy organism had broken their fall as the golden blue swirl that was Ron hit it.

“Woah,” Ron said. “Lucky this plant thing’s here, really.” The plant began moving, and the tendrils Ariadne had originally thought a flat surface began snaking along, weaving their way toward them.

“Woah!” she exclaimed, instinctively pushing herself backward. Ron gasped as a vine snapped around his arms, and one around Ariadne’s legs. Hermione was getting enveloped, but for some reason she wasn’t panicking - at least, her magic didn’t indicate so. She did sound disgusted by the sensation, however, and Ariadne had to agree as it wrapped around her torso and pinned her arms. “Wait, stop moving! This is Devil’s Snare!” she and Hermione cried at the same time.

“Yes! You have to relax! If you don’t, it’ll only kill you faster!” Hermione exclaimed. Remembering the occasion they’d read about it in class, Ariadne did her best to comply.

“Kill us faster?! Oh,  _ NOW _ I can relax!” Ron cried, still struggling as both Ariadne and Hermione felt the reward for relaxation as the Snare began to drop them. They sank through, wincing as it flopped over their heads.

However, once they were released by the Snare, it became apparent that another fall was to be expected. Luckily, it was only a minor one, at most seven feet, and they hit the stone floor with barely a scratch. It was a small room, with a single door, and while Ariadne couldn’t see as well as in Fluffy’s room, it was still enough to navigate with.

“HERMIONE! ARIADNE! WHERE ARE YOU?” Ron yelled. From the way the Snare was still moving, he wasn’t relaxing.

“We’re fine down here! Do as we said, trust us!” Hermione called back. Ron whined, but sure enough, moments later, the yellow and blue colours of Ronald Weasley fell through and landed on the stone floor. “ _ Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare. It’s deadly fun but sulks in the sun _ .” she said, smugly.

“Whew! Lucky we didn’t panic!” Ron said as he stood.

“Lucky  _ we  _ pay attention in Herbology. No doubt that was Professor Sprout’s contribution,” Ariadne replied. With the vines over, Ariadne turned her senses toward the doorway beside them. Through it came a rustling sound, and it looked as if there was a door down a staircase.

“What is that?” Hermione asked.

“Don’t know, but it sounds like wings. Let’s go,” Ariadne said, turning toward the staircase. At least she could see this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As expected, a few changes! Quirrell has already incapacitated Snape, and thanks to being able to see magic, Ariadne made a cleaner escape from Fluffy than canon!Harry. She also pays attention in Herbology, and both the girls immediately succeeding went a long way in hastening Ron’s trusting the advice to relax.  
> She didn’t bring her cane because she wouldn’t have had space to use it under the cloak, and given the magic of Fluffy’s room doesn’t think she’ll need it as much down the hatch. We’ll see if she was right.


	29. Seeker's Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite being Gryffindor’s Seeker, catching a specific Snitch out of eighty identical ones is a tall order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two down, more to go.

After carefully making her way down the mercifully shallow staircase, Ariadne pushed open the door at the bottom to reveal another room. The whirring fluttering behind it immediately amplified, filling her ears and making her curl her toes with how unpleasant a noise it was.

It was a much larger room, she could see as they cautiously stepped inside. Its inside wasn’t quite as magical as Fluffy’s room, but it was certainly enough for her to see even the great arches that spiralled up into its high ceiling. It must have reached right the way to the underside of the third floor, she thought. On the other side of the room was yet another door, with a glowing rectangle for a keyhole. Aside from the structure itself, however, were a multitude of glittering purple sticks gently coasting around the room - evidently the source of the wings.

“Curious. I’ve never seen birds like these,” Hermione said. They were birds? They looked too straight and inorganic to be birds.

“They don’t look like birds,” Ariadne replied. “Too rigid.”

“They’re  _ keys _ ! I bet one of them fits that door.” Ron said as they rounded an arch. Hovering in the air, at about Ariadne’s waist, was a larger stick. Irregular, but very familiar in its behaviour.

A gnarled broomstick. Probably a Quidditch spare. At the association, Ariadne remembered the Quidditch game coming up next week. The final of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin again. Her stomach churned anew in anxiety as she tried to wrestle her mind back to the task at hand.

“What’s this all about?” Hermione said, as they approached the hovering broom.

“Flying keys and a broomstick? We’re supposed to go catch the right key, I think,” Ariadne replied as Ron took out his wand. She frowned as he approached the door. He rattled the handle, checking it was locked.

“ _ Alohomora _ !” he exclaimed, the wave of magic being dissipated by the rectangle over the lock.

“It’s warded,” Ariadne called, still standing by the broom.

“Well, worth a try. Why wasn’t Fluffy’s door warded?”

“No idea. We’ll never find the right one! There must be a thousand keys up there!” Hermione said. “Wait, do any of them look different to you, Ariadne?” Ariadne peered about, searching.

“None,” she replied, shaking her head.

“We’re looking for a big old-fashioned one. Probably rusty like the handle,” Ron said.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Ariadne said, still peering through the keys.  _ Wait… _ “Is it just me or is that one moving differently?” It was. While all the rest of the keys were moving in dead straight, level lines, one far above was bobbing chaotically. Hermione jogged over.

“It is! Big, old-fashioned, with a broken wing! That’s got to be it!” Ariadne tilted her head down toward the broom, frowning. “What’s wrong, ‘Adne?”

“It can’t be that easy,” she replied.

“Oh go on ‘Adne! If Quirrell can catch it on that old broom, you can! You’re the youngest Seeker in a century!” Ron called. Ariadne grimaced.

“Yeah but there aren’t normally a thousand identical snitches in the air to the one I actually have to catch. And I don’t think they’re going to stay this… dormant. One of you should.”

“We both suck on a broom! You’ll be fine, ‘Adne.”

She thought about it. Ron was right. Neither Ron nor Hermione had been particularly good flyers in their lessons since their first, and if indeed the keys were going to become more chaotic, they would definitely fly into something.

She took a deep breath and took hold of the broom. As soon as her connection to the broom was established, every single key made its own connection to the broom. The sound of wings roared into newfound life, and they turned toward her, diving like bombers.

With her spine immediately an icicle, Ariadne jumped onto the broom as fast as she physically could and shot into the air. The keys followed, trying to surround her as she tried to push the broom faster. It wasn’t a good enough broom however, far inferior to her Nimbus 2000.

“This complicates things a bit,” Ron said, backing away toward the door. Flailing her free arm around to try and bat off the insistent keys, she charged toward the irregularly moving key. Wind blew through her hair like an icy comb as she crested an arch and dived after the fleeing key.

A number of things were different about the key, now that she was chasing it.

Its bobbing flight hadn’t changed since she’d seen it, and if anything it drew more attention with how irregular its movements were now that it was moving more quickly. Not only that, but it was always at the head of the pack, fleeing from her, while the other keys in the formation switched out to attack her. She was glad she’d worn a thick jacket, and shielded her face. After all, she didn’t need her eyes to see anyway, it didn’t matter if her arms were in the way. Now that the key was moving faster, the wind whistled through its wings with a shrill, oscillating noise, distinct from the others.

_ This might not be quite as hard _ , she thought, but it still wasn’t easy. Winged bits of metal kept trying to slice open her jacket and painfully bounced off her hands and cheeks as she looped around a flying buttress, mere metres away from the right key. She could almost reach it.

Her foot clipped a stone beam and she span wildly out of control. Unable to stop herself, she collided with a pillar, sending her into a freefall for a few seconds as Hermione and Ron gasped and she desperately tried to right herself. In the haze of glittering keys and her immediate attempts to regain control of her momentum, by the time she’d stabilized herself the correct key was nowhere to be seen.

“Dammit,” she whispered, pushing the broom forward and back into the veritable dogfight that was the swarm as Ron and Hermione cheered. 

She needed to find the key again, and fast. She could hear it somewhere, but in the commotion couldn’t see its bobbing light yet.

Not that one.

Not that one.

She pushed her broom faster. If it was always leading the pack, it would eventually find itself ahead of her. Her hunch paid off, as after but a few seconds, the whistling key took its place ahead of her as it replaced a key that began harassing her feet.

Five feet.

Four.

Three.

Two.

She threw her arm toward the key, no longer protecting her face and squeezing her eyes shut. Her fingers met fluttering wings, and she wrapped her hand around it before it could escape.

The correct key now captured and struggling in her hand, she began her way back down. As she looped around a pillar, trying to lose the rest of the swarm, she realized that she didn’t actually know the keys would stop. So instead of dismounting, she decided to pass the key to the others.

“Catch the key!” she cried as she dived down toward them, throwing the key with as much force as she could muster toward Hermione. Her spine melted as it began to rise back up, but Hermione jumped up and recaptured it, pulling it over to the keyhole and trying to wrestle it in.

“Hurry up!” Ron cried as Ariadne focused on trying to lose the keys. If she was able to get a lead on them, she’d be able to fly straight through the door and close it behind her. She pushed the broom as hard as she could, as its magic quivered under the strain. She was starting to pull away, as she overtook the head of the swarm while pirouetting around the central pillar.

Hermione shoved the door open and scrambled through it, followed by Ron. Ariadne shot toward the opening, glad that Hermione had had the same idea and was holding the door, ready to slam it shut.

The wind wrapped around her as she flew through the doorway like an errant cannonball and Hermione immediately slammed the door shut as Ariadne put on the proverbial brakes. Swinging to a halt in the small hallway, she jumped as a racket not unlike a machine gun filled the antechamber as a horde of enraged magical keys tried to follow her. As her feet met ground, she virtually fell from the broom, her legs turning to jelly from nerves as she released an unconsciously held breath.

“That was amazing Ariadne! Well done!” Hermione clapped, hugging her.

“Yeah, well done!” Ron said.

“Hhh… thanks. That was… never doing that again, holy hell,” Ariadne panted, rubbing her arms and torso which ached from the impacts of keys against her jumper. “Ugh,” she grunted as she rubbed her temples. The headache was only getting worse, and she wasn’t looking forward to finding out why. She stood up, shakily. It wasn’t very magic here, but it would have to do. “Let’s see what’s next.”

The trio slowly followed the small hallway into another room - this was coated in a spattering of weak magic, but something in the corner had captured all three’s attention.

A very familiar, gigantic dull magical core.

The troll.

But it wasn’t moving. It was laying on the ground, much like it had done after their encounter in the bathroom.

“Is that..?” Ron asked.

“I think so,” Hermione said. “Ariadne?”

“It’s the troll. Not dead, but not conscious either,” she replied. “I think if we’re quiet we’ll be able to just sneak past.” Beginning, she carefully treaded toward the door she could vaguely sense on the other side of the chamber. It took a good few minutes or so to traverse the large room at a slow pace so as to not wake the gigantic creature, but eventually the three slowly opened the door and cautiously closed it behind them.

“Blimey, that thing must have been down here the whole time!” Ron said.

“I’m guessing that’s Quirrell’s defence. On Halloween, he must have come down here and let it escape; we must be near the dungeons,” Hermione said. “It must have been pretty happy to have some space.”  _ Just like Fluffy _ , Ariadne thought, sorry for the two.

“Okay, so that’s been… Hagrid, Sprout, Flitwick I’m guessing? And Quirrell. Who’s left?” Ariadne said. “Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall…”

“Ugh. I’d ask how many more layers they’d want but if  _ we _ can get through them…” Ron groaned.

“Then Voldemort definitely can. Come on,” Ariadne added. Resolute, she began carefully striding down the again somewhat dim hallway they found themselves in, towards whatever the faculty had to throw at them next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working ever closer to the final confrontation. We’ll just have to see how that goes...


	30. Chess Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Ariadne collaborate to win the biggest game of chess the world has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four down.

While the other rooms had been mostly dim, Ariadne was glad to sense magic bleeding through the door of the next chamber - for that much to be spread there meant whatever it was was intensely magical, and she’d probably be able to tell her way okay once inside. The hallway, however, was dim as could be, so she took each step carefully, brushing her fingers along the rough wall for guidance.

The blue and red that was Hermione pushed open the door, revealing the room behind it as Ariadne was able to walk a little faster and catch up with the other two as they slowly stepped inside. 

It was eerily quiet. All those previously had had a sound to them - Fluffy his roaring bark, the Devil’s Snare had its disgusting sliding noise, the keys had the metallic rustling of their wings and the troll had been snoring.

This, however, was silent. If anything, it only put Ariadne more on guard as she entered the bright room. 

“I don’t like this…” Hermione said. “I don’t like this at all.”

She could see the edges of the room, and taking up most of its space was a platform. Rows of well-defined, massive statues stood before them, and sparking wreckage lay at the platform’s sides. The three cautiously stepped between the rows, and glancing at their designs Ariadne immediately knew what this was.

A row of taller statues preceded the second, most armed and a castles at one end. In the centre, two similar but different royal characters. Ahead were eight identical, hunched figures bearing armour. And on the opposite side of the room, the exact mirror.

Two figures on their side were missing though - a bishop and a rook, and the leftmost knight lacked a rider.

“Is it a graveyard?” Hermione asked. Ariadne realized she couldn’t hear any torches either - it was probably very dark.

“No. This is no graveyard,” she said, turning toward Ron.

“It’s a chess board,” Ron continued, stepping out into the centre. As he did, the gentle clamor of fire met Ariadne’s ears as torches lit around it.

“Wizard’s chess. I’d say McGonagall transfigured a set into these. The door’s on the other side of them, but somehow I doubt they’re going to let us just pass,” Ariadne said, as Ron walked forward only to be met with the opposing pawns drawing twin falchions and blocking his passage.

“What do we do?” Hermione said.

“It’s obvious isn’t it? We have to play our way across the room,” Ron replied.

“There’s a missing piece for each of us. Queen side rook, king side bishop and the king side knight is missing its rider,” Ariadne told him. “I think we have to take part.” She shuddered, remembering the violent behaviour of Ron’s chess set. This would undoubtedly be the same.

“All right. Ariadne, you take the empty bishop’s square. Hermione, you’ll be the queen side castle. As for me, I’ll be the knight.” Peering over, Ariadne took her place behind the corresponding pawn as Hermione did the same. Ron meanwhile clambered up the side of the horse, seating himself in the saddle. “You were on the chess club, right ‘Adne?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“All right, I know you can’t see the squares, but we’re gonna work together on this, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What happens now?” Hermione said.

“Well, white moves first,” Ron replied. So they were the black pieces, got it. “And then? We play.” As he spoke, one of the white pawns - orange to Ariadne - slid forward, filling the air with the sound of stone grinding on stone.

“You guys don’t think this is going to be like… real… wizard’s chess… do you?” Hermione asked, worried.

“Looks the same, just bigger,” Ariadne replied. “You there! D5.” She pointed at the corresponding red pawn, to see what would happen. As soon as it came to its stop, the orange pawn diagonal to it animated, drawing its falchions and smashing it to pieces. Bits of crumbling magic went flying as Ariadne jumped, Hermione’s magic going into overdrive.

“Yes. I think this is gonna be  _ exactly _ like wizard’s chess,” Ron said. “All right. One pawn down, where to from here?”

What followed was perhaps the most stressful game of chess Ariadne had ever played, and she knew Hermione wouldn’t be talking for a bit. Not only did they have to make sure none of them got taken - who knew what even a pawn would do to any of them? - but they had to win the game  _ and _ do so fast enough to catch Quirrell.

Ron, it seemed, wasn’t thinking far enough ahead. Ariadne’d had to stop him from immediately reacting to the opposing move on a number of turns, telling him that it was a blatant trap. Only a few times had she been wrong, unable to see the squares and thinking a piece was in a slightly different position than it was. Once, a pawn had responded to their collaboration as if it had been given an order, so they avoided saying anything that could be misinterpreted by the magic - clearly it wasn’t designed with multiple people in mind.

Twenty minutes later and Hermione recovering from her fright as far as Ariadne could tell, the board was littered with sparking wreckage and bits of inert stone. Half the pieces on the field were gone, including their queen lost in a blunder that both of them had groaned in disappointment at. Piece after piece fell as whatever menacing force propelled the opponent pieces tore through their attempts to thwart it.

She knew it was a scaled-up piece of stone. But she couldn’t help but feel like the opposing queen had a malicious manner to it. Its signature move had been to stab the offending piece with its gigantic sword, then sometimes swing at it like a cricket bat in order to remove the piece from the board if it wasn’t satisfied with its destruction. She shuddered as it slid along the board, feeling as if it were watching her.

By the end, almost no pieces were left on the field as the white queen finally caught and felled the other knight. The knight collapsed on itself as the sword pierced it, dust and rock filling the air once more.

Ariadne gazed across the field. If her spatial awareness was right about what squares were where, and given the emptier field she could tell better, she had a bad feeling about what few moves were available to them.

“If Ron moves, the Queen will take him,” she said. Her heart sank as she realized the opportunity afforded. But by sacrificing  _ Ron _ .

“But then you’re free to checkmate the King,” Ron said.

“Ron, no! There has to be another way!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Do you want to stop Voldemort from getting that Stone or not?!” Ron asked of Hermione, who stood behind him by a few squares. “Ariadne. It’s  _ you _ that has to go on, I know it. Not me, not Hermione,  _ you _ .”

“Wh-but-” Ariadne spluttered. Did Ron seriously expect her to face one of the most powerful Dark wizards of all time  _ on her own _ ?

“I hate to say it but he has a point. You’re protected, we aren’t,” Hermione said. “Besides. If the Queen does what it’s been doing all game, he should be able to avoid being seriously injured.” Hermione was right. The Queen had stabbed the other knight in the horse’s flank; if Ron sat up, he wouldn’t get hit. Ariadne wrung her hands.

“Wh-wh-uh-what do you mean I’m protected?!”

“The wards, remember?! Dumbledore thought they’d be gone because you were with us, but they’re stronger than ever! Neither of us have them, you do. If any of us are going to survive meeting Voldemort, it’s you,” Hermione said.

Ariadne hated that she was right. She grimaced, nodding, as her heartbeat filled her ears.

Ron adjusted himself in his seat.

“Knight to H3,” he ordered. Moments later, his piece began sliding forward. Directly into the line of the white queen. “Check.”

The queen turned to face him. Ponderously and slowly, it ground its way through a slew of broken pieces to reach the knight. To reach Ron. It stopped directly beside him. His magic was frantic as he sat up in his seat, seeming like he was keeping his legs up.

The statue arched back, swung its sword up, and plunged it into the horse. There was a veritable explosion of rock and dust as Ron’s mount crumbled, and a spark of light arced from the Queen into Ron as he screamed. He fell, thrown onto the ground a few feet from where the horse had been as the Queen slid onto the square.

“RON!” she cried. Hermione began moving. “ _ Don’t move! _ We’re still playing, if you move, we’ll lose. Ron’s alive, I think the game knocked him out,” she called as Hermione froze. “You see the square I need to go to, to take the King?”

“Yes,” Hermione said.

“I’m going to need you to tell me when I’m on it, just in case.” Ariadne took a breath. There wasn’t much wreckage between her and her destination, and she could fairly well tell where she was heading. 

It was the longest short stroll she’d ever walked. Eventually, when she was pretty sure she was around the right place, an incredibly stressed Hermione made a strangled noise and she stopped.

She turned toward the king.

“Ch-ch.. Checkmate!” she declared, tilting her head as she stopped to ‘reset’ her stammer.

The king piece flashed with a blue magic briefly.

_ Clunk _

The sword all but disappeared from her vision as it was detached, now only visible from the veneer of magic coating it. Ariadne jumped back as the gigantic weapon plummeted to the ground and smashed down at her feet. As the magic of the other pieces died down, Ariadne scrambled to reach Ron as Hermione too ran, tripping a couple times but quickly getting there.

“He’s all right, just knocked out. Take care of him, see if you can get him out of here, you’ll have an easier way finding out the- out- finding the way out than me. You two are right… it has to be me that goes on,” Ariadne said, as the boy’s breath brushed against the back of her hand. “If you have time, get to the Owlery and send a message to Dumbledore.”

“You’re going to be all right, ‘Adne,” Hermione said. “You’re a great witch, you really are.” Ariadne folded in on herself a little.

“Not as good as you,” she replied.

“ _ Yes _ as good as me. Better, actually. You’ve had so much more in your way but you’ve done just as well in class. And you’re braver than me.”

“I-I dunno…”

“Ariadne. The very fact you have that name is brave. Remember what the Sorting Hat said?  _ Your truths take courage _ . You’re smart, you’re clever, you’re kind, but above all you’re brave. I wasn’t the one who stood up to Draco and grabbed Neville’s remembrall on her first flying lesson, that was you.” Ariadne chuckled gently, embarrassed. Hermione pulled her into a hug. “You’re going to be okay. Just be careful. You’ve probably still got a couple of rooms until Quirrell.” Ariadne sighed and nodded, trembling. She stood, taking a deep breath, before resolutely but carefully making her way over the room to the door. She had to nudge some rocks over with her foot, but she got there in the end.

As the door closed behind her and she focused on what lay ahead, she groaned.

_ Great. _

_ More stairs down _ .

And there were a  _ lot _ of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onwards we go, to the final confrontation.


	31. Familial Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne descends the stairs to meet her once-vanquished foe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am gripped by hyperfixation and write two chapters in one day.  
> TW: Deadnaming, misgendering, transphobia, slurs.

Ariadne came to a stop, her heart racing from stress as her legs ached.  _ How many more bloody stairs do I have to go down _ ?! she thought. It looked like she was three quarters of the way down, at least. She took a deep breath, stretching her legs and rubbing her knees. This many stairs in only an hour or two was killing her legs. Her headache was horrible now as well. Whatever the last trial or trials were, they must have been small enough for her to be near Quirrell.

Near Voldemort.

She and Hermione had read about him since the revelation two years prior when McGonagall had come knocking. She’d read the history of the war he’d sparked and the terror of what was effectively his brief control of wizarding England. Ten years it had been before his failed attempt to murder her because of some prophecy. He’d risen in the shadows for ten years even before, slowly gathering to his banner an army of blood purists, Dark creatures - to be fair, many like his legions of Giants misled through propaganda - and mind-controlled ordinary witches and wizards before finally unleashing them upon Britain in 1980. The formation of the Order of the Phoenix and the terror attacks on non-magical people as well as those witches and wizards whose parents were non-magical followed immediately after. His very name had been enchanted to summon assault from his followers, which was why virtually nobody ever used it even ten years later. It had only ended when Voldemort had failed to kill her in 1991, his curse rebounding and throwing his forces into disarray without a leader. But that had only come after the systematic slaughter of half the Order and ten years of terror - there would have been children at Hogwarts who had never known peace, not too long before her own arrival, Ariadne knew. Percy had definitely been a young boy by the time the war ended, and Ariadne shuddered to imagine how Charlie’s childhood must have gone. She didn’t know  _ exactly _ how old he was, but she knew he was older than Percy. What had followed her arrival at the Dursleys’ had been a half decade of intense legal proceedings, trials and incarcerations in the wizarding prison, Azkaban.

The knowledge rang in her mind as she resumed her descent, shaking. That was the man she was going to face in less than an hour if she was quick. That was the man she’d have to  _ stop _ . A twelve year old girl against  _ that _ . The staircase had long since gone entirely dark to her, and she hated how slowly she had to proceed because of it. At least she could see the edges of her destination, another heavily magical room this time without a door at the bottom of the stairs.

The shape of the room began to peek into view as she neared the bottom. Rectangular, with a rounded pit-like section surrounded by pillars, with stairs on all edges. At its centre stood two things.

The figure of Professor Quirrell, and a large glowing surface. It stood tall, well higher than the ceilings of most houses so far as she could tell, tipped with two tapering cones beside a pointed top. It had a shape to it, with a flat arch in its centre glowing blue rather than the larger structure’s gold.

Quirrell himself was almost invisible behind the now more powerful than ever static upon his head, which almost glared over all around it. It was roiling and bubbling, angry even.

At the sight of Quirrell, pain erupted through Ariadne’s head and she stumbled, tumbling down what few steps remained.

Quirrell did not move. Her breath coming in shallow bursts, Ariadne stood and pushed through the urge to flee. Confused and afraid, she approached the final small set of stairs, her forehead surely about to be torn asunder by what was ahead of her.

“You,” she said, quietly. She’d meant it to be much louder, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. “B-b-a-but, I- thought… Snape’s tria-” she was cut off by Quirrell talking.

“Ah, yes,” came the uncharacteristically smooth response as the man turned. “He does seem the type, doesn’t he? But next to him, who would suspect…” the man hunched over. “P-p-p-p-oor st-t-t-t-tuttering Professor Quirrell?” Ariadne frowned. His misunderstanding of her confusion notwithstanding… the man had been  _ faking his stammer to appear weak _ . Anger at that disrespect took over from her fear.

“No- I knew it was you all along… I was expecting Snape’s  _ trial  _ before… wait…” Ariadne said, scowling. “Are you  _ stuck _ ?!” Was he stuck on Professor Snape’s trial? Or was this Dumbledore’s?

“What- no- how could you possibly have known?!” Quirrell exclaimed. He seemed downright annoyed that his little monologue had been deflected.

“You tried to- to to kill me at Quidditch. I-I I can see magic, remem-ember? But Snape stopped you. Besides, it’s pretty obvious you’ve got Voldemort on the back of your head,” she replied, a smugness in her last sentence.

“Wha-hmph,” Quirrell spluttered, followed by what could almost be described as a growl. “Well, trust me, if Snape’s cloak hadn’t caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have  _ succeeded _ . Even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse. I knew you were a danger to me right from the off, but I had expected  _ better _ than a pathetic little blind faggot cowering from a troll from the Boy Who Lived,” he called. Ariadne stepped back as her spine somehow got even colder and her heartbeat erupted into her ears. Unfortunately, she was still on the stairs and fell back, gravity forcing her to sit. “Oh yes, I know exactly who you really are, Harry Potter. Did you think your little disguise would fool us?” Quirrell sighed. “Of course, Snape never trusted me after Halloween. Barely left me alone. But he doesn’t understand. I’m never alone. Never.” Quirrell turned back to the standing arch, and as the static on the back of his head once again faced her, she gasped in pain and brought her hand to her forehead. “Now. What does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I  _ get _ it?!”

_ He is stuck! _ Ariadne thought, smiling at that. However, her brief mirth was cut short by a horrible voice filling the room.

“ _ Use the boy, _ ” Voldemort whispered. Ariadne tried to push up, to get back up the stairs a bit, as Quirrell spun to face her again.

“ _ COME HERE, POTTER! _ ” he yelled. “ _ NOW! _ ” Ariadne swallowed. She slid ungracefully down the stairs, finding it much easier than trying to walk down, as terrified as she was. Standing, she slowly walked across the pit floor, finding herself only a few feet from him.

From Voldemort. She supposed the only reason her headache hadn’t ascended to new heights was because it simply couldn’t get any worse. She felt as if her mind was about to implode.

“Tell me. What do you see?” Quirrell whispered, a menacing tone which almost seemed to run down her arms. She frowned.

“Uh,” she spluttered. “I don- A-a coloured archway?? I can see magic, not, what did you say, a mirror?”

Something appeared right next to her. Golden and glorious. No, not beside her.  _ In her pocket _ . She jumped, twisting her head instinctively. Realizing that it could be the Stone, she quickly recomposed herself.

Quirrell had definitely seen her reaction.

“What is it, what did you see?!” he exclaimed.

“N-no-nothing nothing!” Ariadne backed away a bit from the man.

“ _ He lies… _ ” came the voice of Quirrell’s companion.

“TELL THE TRUTH! WHAT DID YOU SEE?” Quirrell bellowed. Ariadne damn near jumped out of her skin as he did, and she took a few faltering steps backward. If nothing else, she was glad she could see where she was going regardless of direction here.

“ _ He’s useless. Let me speak to him _ .”

“Master you are not strong enough,” Quirrell protested.

“ _ I have strength enough for  _ this.” Ariadne backed off further. Quirrell wobbled a little as he moved, and the sound of rustling fabric confirmed what Ariadne already knew. Voldemort was under the turban, and now Quirrell was removing it. Quirrell turned to face away from the mirror, oddly.

“Harry  _ Potter _ . We meet again,” the evil voice said.

“Voldemort,” Ariadne replied, weakly.

“Yes… You see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another; a mere  _ parasite _ ,” Voldemort spat. “Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that  _ can _ .” Ariadne kept backing up. “Something that conveniently enough  _ lies in your pocket! _ ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ariadne cried.

“Ha. Liar. You’re not the only one who can see magic when he puts his mind to it!”

Ariadne spun and did her best to run. Much as the room was intensely magical, just sensing it was painful, and she immediately tripped on the staircase. As she began to drag herself up desperately, Voldemort roared.

“ _ STOP HIM! _ ” Quirrell snapped his finger and plumes of magical fire erupted around the room. Ariadne fell onto the first little landing, panting and possibly hyperventilating. She was going to die. She was going to die. “Don’t be a fool, Harry. Why suffer an horrific death, when you can join me, and live?”

“J-jj-oin the wizard Hitler? No thanks. I’ve read about you, you really need to improve your PR!” Ariadne spat defiantly, struggling to her feet.

“Ha-hahaha. Bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me,  _ Harry _ . Would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back!”

Ariadne laughed. A gallow’s laugh, to tell the truth. She fully expected to be dead within the next five minutes.

“See them?! You m-mmm-mu-must be blinder than I am!” she called.

“Oh, I can fix  _ that _ too. Your eyes, your parents, both can be yours again. All I ask, is for something in return,” Voldemort said. “There is no good or evil. Only power, and those too weak to seek it! Together, we’ll do extraordinary things. Just give me the Stone!”

The words of Ollivander rang through Ariadne’s mind.  _ Great things. Terrible, but great _ . She set her feet and straightened her back.

“Never!” she yelled.

“KILL HIM!” Voldemort roared. Before Ariadne could even begin to think of how she might escape the flames surrounding the room, Quirrell launched into the air at her. With no time to turn, she tried to head up the stairs backward, but the man immediately landed on her, pinning her to the ground with his hands around her throat.

As she struggled to take in air while Quirrell throttled her, something happened.

Purple and blue sparks began assaulting the vague static that was Quirrell’s arm, accompanied by a sizzling sound. Ariadne grabbed his arm, trying to push it off, and the assault of her magic upon Voldemort’s corruption threaded throughout the man’s body only intensified.

She could smell smoke. Not the fire, but from right in front of her.

Quirrell screamed as a shell of purple and blue with golden waves formed  _ around _ him, suddenly releasing Ariadne and backing off quickly. Ariadne coughed, spluttering as she sat up on the stair, watching in bewilderment as golden lightning dug into Quirrell’s form as he screamed in agony.

“What is this magic?!” he cried, holding his hand.

_ Holding his hand. _

Ariadne could see his entire form! It must have been the wards, because it was digging so much into him that his entire arm was now swarming with a buzz of purple and blue. And it was falling apart. His hand fell first, fingers disintegrating.

“Fool! Get the Stone!” Voldemort yelled, but it was too late. The field had already spread to his torso and head, and cracks were forming in both as he let out a bloodcurdling shriek. In a final push, he stumbled forward, his remaining arm disintegrating, followed by his head, torso and legs. The now practically invisible clothes of Quirinus Quirrell slumped to the ground as the man himself turned to dust.

Voldemort, however, had not disappeared. He was still there, only gaseous. Ariadne stood, scrambling up the stairs and frantically trying to think of a way through the fire as she coughed both from dust and being strangled not a few seconds before. Voldemort’s form collected itself, rising as she span to face it.

It shot toward her, roaring in fury as she threw her arms up in a futile effort to block it. She screamed as it passed directly through her, her magic sense blowing up white as snow all around and her entire body aflame in agony. She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m aware that technically the canon has the Wizarding War between 1970 and 1981, not 1980 and 1991. I’m setting this ten years later and as such adjusting timelines accordingly for a number of reasons.  
> Yes, Quirrell did collapse a lot quicker than in the original. In the original, Harry has to go for his face a second time to get it to stick. But because the wards are so strong for Ariadne thanks to the Grangers, they eviscerated Quirrell almost immediately.


	32. Visitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne wakes up in the Hospital Wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since a couple folks have been confused by the lack of Snape’s trial, I’ll say again: this is based on the movie canon. Not the books. I do not have the time nor enthusiasm for a shitty terf’s writing to trawl through it for this. Using the movies is much easier. If I remember something I feel like including, I might (ie the presence of the troll after the keys) but for the most part we’re movies only.  
> Also my old copies of the books are probably somewhere within 13 moving boxes we haven’t touched in five years if we still have them. (shrugs)  
> TW: Unintentionally being outed to a staff member

Ariadne grumbled as she groggily rolled over in bed. She adjusted her head as her magic sense bloomed back into life as it always did when she awoke.

_ It’s Saturday, I’m sleeping in _ , she thought, burrowing her head into the pillow. She sniffed as she lifted her head.  _ Wait… _ She shot up, immediately awake.  _ This isn’t the dormitory! _

She’d know if it were. She  _ always _ drew her curtains, this was neither the blue and purple box of her bed nor the circular dorm room. This was a longer room, adorned with magic and archways. Not unlike the dorm, it too was lined with beds, but these were not the same four poster, curtained beds she’d gotten used to. They were far simpler, with little trays beside or over them.

The Hospital Wing. Why was she in-

_ Oh. _

It hadn’t been a dream.

Fluffy. The Devil’s Snare, the keys. The unconscious troll, the gigantic chess game.

The mirror.

Voldemort.

_ The Philosopher’s Stone _ ! She frantically tried to check her tiny jean pockets for it, but she wasn’t wearing them. Instead, she was in her pajamas, which didn’t have pockets. One of her hands was wrapped in a slightly too tight for comfort bandage, but it didn’t seem broken.

She turned her attention to her more immediate surroundings. The Stone certainly wasn’t present, but she noted boxes at a table by her feet. A jar or two, and small baskets. From the shapes of what she recognized to be Bertie Botts’ beans, sweets. Directly to her right was another table. Cards. All written in the magical ink supplied by Professor Flitwick;  _ Get Well Soon Ariadne _ , and the like glimmered on the covers. She’d have to see if there was anything written in them.

But if she had cards and sweets… it couldn’t have been Saturday morning. Certainly not this many cards or sweets. She hated losing track of time. How long had she been in the Hospital Wing?

As she pondered, trying to figure out what had happened since her unconsciousness in the mirror chamber, a figure entered. The distinctive, multicoloured figure of one Professor Albus Dumbledore. 

“Good afternoon,” he said as he strode over. “Ah. Tokens, from your loved ones and admirers,” he added, stopping by the foot of the bed.

“A-ad-admirers?” Ariadne asked. She’d never thought she’d had  _ admirers _ . Acquaintances, maybe.

“What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows!”

_ Oh no.  _ Ariadne’s mind erupted into speculation. What did they know? About who she was? The only people who’d known they were going down were Ron, Hermione, and Snape. She didn’t think Hermione would tell, but she was less sure of Ron and Snape.

“You needn’t worry, they know not your secret identity,” he added, obviously seeing her reaction. “Ah. I see that your friend Ronald has saved you the trouble of opening your chocolate frogs.” She’d gotten better at catching them, but the cards always went to Ron or Hermione.

“Ron was here? What about Hermione, are they alright?!”

“Fine,” he replied softly. She was slightly surprised Dumbledore had even understood her with how quickly she’d spoken. “They’re both just fine. In fact, Miss Granger has barely left your side. I believe she’s gone to lunch, but she should be back soon.” Ariadne smiled. At least Hermione had been there. Remembering the absence of the brilliantly gold Stone, she leant up a bit.

“What about the Stone?! Voldemort, he-” she exclaimed.

“Relax, dear child. The Stone has been destroyed. My friend Nicholas and I have had a little chat,” he replied, beginning to walk over to stand by her feet, “and agreed it was best all around.” Ariadne frowned. Wasn’t Nicholas dependent on it, as was his wife?

“But Flamel… he’ll die? Won’t he?”

“He has enough Elixir to set his affairs in order. But yes, he will die,” Dumbledore replied, melancholy entering his tone. Reviewing the events of her last conscious evening, she frowned again as the Headmaster sat on the bed.

“How did I get the Stone, sir? One second, I was standing in front of what Quirrell said was a mirror, the next it was in my pocket,” she asked.

“Ah. You see, only a person who wanted to find the stone; find it, but not use it, would be able to get it.” He leaned forward, a little closer than Ariadne was really comfortable with. “That is one of my more brilliant ideas. And between you and me, that is saying something” he whispered, before leaning back again as Ariadne raised an eyebrow.  _ So many brilliant ideas, maybe you could have sent me to the Grangers to start with instead of the Dursleys _ , she thought, irritated at the man’s seeming ego.

“So-w-so-s-so-so wi-with the Stone gone, does-sat- that mean Voldemort can never return? He’s gone for good?” she asked, hoping to change the subject from her headmaster’s self-aggrandizing.

“Ah, I’m afraid there are ways in which he can return,” Dumbledore whispered.

“What happened to Quirrell? Was that the wards? He touched me and then his magic just sort of… fell apart.”

“That would be your mother’s wards, yes. Reinforced by the presence of Hermione Granger, I imagine his demise was swift.” Dumbledore patted her leg and stood, turning to the tray of sweets before her. “Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans,” he said, picking up the box as an unknown person walked in the door. “I was most unfortunate in my youth to come across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve lost my liking for them. However. I should be safe with a nice toffee.” The man paused for a moment, evidently taking a bean. Ariadne had to admit, on this she agreed with the Headmaster. Randomized flavours were far from her liking. The man chewed for a bit. “Hmm. Alas; earwax.” The person who’d walked in stepped over.

“Headmaster, if I could just get a moment with young Miss Granger?” she asked. Dumbledore turned, leaving the room wordlessly. This must have been Madam Pomphrey. She pulled up a chair and sat.

“I’m Madam Pomphrey, I don’t believe we’ve met yet. So, now that you’re awake, how are you feeling, Ariadne?”

“Ehh. I-I mean, all right I guess.” She didn’t have a headache anymore, and it was nice to no longer have her skull feel as if it were being crushed by the eighty ton hammer that was Voldemort’s flickering form. She held up her bandaged hand to her side, ‘looking’ at it. There was nothing magical to it, so at least it probably wasn’t serious enough for Pomphrey to have taken out the big guns.

“Oh you needn’t worry about that, you just had a nasty looking cut from when you fell,” Pomphrey said gently.

“How-how long have I been out?” she asked.

“Good few days. Hermione says you have a hard time sleeping sometimes, nightmares, so I’m sure the rest did you good. It’s Thursday, if you were wondering.” 

One fact rippled through Ariadne’s mind.

Quidditch was on Wednesday.

“I missed the game?!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Oh! Not sure, I don’t really pay much attention to the results. Never been much of a Quidditch fan myself, I’m more concerned by the injuries. The Muggles have some perfectly fine and much safer sports, I don’t see why we couldn’t just stick with those. But your team did come visit you before the match yesterday. Quite a few of the sweets came from them. I’m sure Ron and Hermione will know,” the matronly woman replied. Ariadne deflated a little, but was glad the team had thought of her. She fetched one of the cards off the shelf, reading it idly while she thought.

This one was from Hermione, going off the handwriting. It was simple, but sweet. 

“Now, there was something else I wanted to mention,” Madam Pomphrey whispered. “I’m sure you’ve noticed you’re in your pajamas, that was my doing. I must apologize, had I known you were transgender beforehand I would have taken more care toward your privacy.” Ariadne drew back, horrified. “Don’t worry, nobody else has been made aware - I know certain elements of society are less than friendly and I must say wizarding society can often be worse. I just wanted you to know that I’m a safe ear, and should you wish my assistance in this matter, my office door is always open. All good?” Ariadne nodded, her jaw clenched a little. At least Madam Pomphrey was a safe person, but she resented the violation of her privacy regardless. Pomphrey patted her leg. “All right,” she said more openly. “Now, aside from that hand, you’re free to go should you wish, your cane is lying by the bed and your robes are in the table shelf. Lunch should still be on, you must be famished. Don’t worry about all this, I’ll make sure it gets to your dormitory.” Madam Pomphrey stood, drawing the curtains so she could get changed in private as Ariadne became suddenly very aware of the emptiness gnawing at her innards.

Once she’d gotten changed and carefully remade the bed, Ariadne took up her cane and set about finding her way to the Great Hall for lunch. She’d never actually been to the Hospital Wing before, and she was only vaguely sure where it was. Instead of directly trying to find the Hall, she was more just trying to find somewhere she recognized better. Eventually, she found herself in a hallway near the Gryffindor Common Room and made her way from there. The halls were bustling with people, many shouting that they needed to pack. If it was Thursday, then it was the last day of term. Tonight would be a feast, and the Hogwarts Express would be departing for London the next day.

Unfortunately, she was a little too late for lunch. Despite this, she ran into Ron and Hermione anyway, on their way back to the Hospital Wing to visit her.

“I hope she wakes up soon, I don’t know how I’m going to explain why she’s out cold to mum and dad if we miss the train,” Hermione said as she rounded the corner.

“Ariadne!” Ron exclaimed. Ariadne smiled, hurrying a little more as her companions scrambled down the small staircase they were up. Hermione virtually ran into her and enveloped her into a hug.

“You’re awake!”

“Hmm! You guys okay?” she replied, face smothered by Hermione’s hair.

“I’m all right,” Ron said. “You?” Ariadne nodded, but held up her bandaged hand. She turned her head to face Hermione.

“Now you’re back up, never better. Come on, we’ve got to pack!” she replied. The three frantically - or more accurately, the sisters frantically and Ron reluctantly - made their way to Gryffindor Tower and to their dorm. Most had already packed, it seemed, at least in the girls’ dorm. Going by Ron’s behaviour, it seemed the boys were more nonchalant. Hermione gathered up her things while Ariadne sat on her bed, reading through her cards and munching on the various sweets she’d been left.

They weren’t going to fit into the bags and trunk anyway, so she shared them with Hermione, as well as Lavender, Fay, Kellah, Sally-Anne and Parvati when they came through. Although she did eat a lot of them; she hadn’t had lunch after all. She regretted not having been as close to the other girls in their dorm as they could have been, and made a note to try to join in more next year; despite having resolved to make friends just before the troll incident, she and Hermione had kind of latched onto Ron after his apology and neglected the others.

The cards were mostly very basic, but she appreciated them regardless. Lavender, Sally-Anne and Parvati had each sent one, and the Quidditch team had collectively signed one wishing her well. She grimaced at how poor their loss had been in her absence. Allegedly, it was the worst loss Gryffindor had suffered in a hundred years, and it squarely put Slytherin in the winning for both the Quidditch and House Cups. She hoped it was just because the team was demoralized by her absence rather than any lack of skill on the part of her substitute.

Eventually, with her cards read and packed away with the rest of her things, a change of clothes for the next day on the bed and the trunk awaiting her robes, as well as a slightly overstuffed backpack with what remained of the sweets, she took up her cane as the tower bell rang to go to dinner.

\--

Ariadne picked through her dinner while the rest of the table tucked into the bountiful feast. She’d definitely eaten far too many sweets, and probably wouldn’t fit much dessert in her bloated tummy. 

Eventually, Dumbledore stood as McGonagall tapped on her glass for attention. Somehow, the tiny sound carried a long way, and the Hall died down.

“Another year has gone. And now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding; and the points stand thus,” he said. “In fourth place: Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty two points.” A smattering of light applause rippled through the room. “Third place: Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty six points.” Once again, applause, somewhat louder this time. Ariadne tried not to hit her hand too much, she didn’t know how secure the bandage was. “In second place: Gryffindor, with four hundred and sixty two points. And in first place, with four hundred and seventy two points: Slytherin House.” The applause erupted from the Slytherin table, although Gryffindor’s didn’t seem so enthusiastic about the close loss.

As the applause piped down, Dumbledore piped up.

“Yes, yes, well done Slytherin, well done Slytherin, _ however _ ! Recent events must be taken into account. And I have a few last minute points to award. To Hermione and Ariadne Granger: for cool use of intellect while others were in grave peril, fifty points,” he called. Gryffindor’s table erupted into applause. With Slytherin at four hundred and seventy two, they were now at five hundred and twelve. They had won!

Ariadne found herself the subject of a half dozen pats on the back as she sat, stunned and slowly offered Hermione a high five. It was quickly accepted by an overwhelmed Hermione, then by several others who jumped in as well.

“Second!” Dumbledore called.  _ He wasn’t done?! _ “To Mister Ronald Weasley and Ariadne Granger! For the best played game of Chess that Hogwarts has seen these many years; fifty points.” Once more cheers erupted, this time uproarious and filling her ears with a sound more commonly associated with loudspeakers - her ears generally went a bit shrieky in loud sound. Some Gryffindors had even jumped up and were jumping about in glee.

Ariadne felt a hand plunge into her hair and ruffle it. Locks brushed against her forehead as she desperately grabbed the hand and stopped it before whoever it was could reveal her scar. 

“Woah! P-p-mm-please don’t to-touch my hair,” she exclaimed.

It was George, and luckily he seemed to get the message not to touch her hair.

Five hundred and sixty two points. Well above Slytherin by now. But Dumbledore, it seemed, was not done.

“And finally! It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies. But a great deal more, to stand up to your friends. I award ten points, to Neville Longbottom!” Ariadne was beaming, disregarding her bandage and leaning forward in her seat, clapping. 

Five hundred and seventy two points. Exactly a hundred more than Slytherin. Cutting through the now unstoppable applause, Dumbledore called out again.

“Assuming my calculations are correct! I believe that a change of decoration is in order!” He too clapped, only once, and a great wave of orange energy swooped out, billowing through the great tapestries which hung from the ceiling. Ariadne couldn’t see the tapestries, but she guessed they had been Slytherin’s insignia, now replaced with Gryffindor’s. “Gryffindor wins the House Cup!” The applause erupted into a new life - not even just Gryffindor, but every house aside from Slytherin.

“How come everyone else is clapping too?!” Ron yelled at Percy.

“Slytherin’s won every year for seven years. Glad to see them lose!” he replied, happily. Ariadne was met with a barrage of high fives, shoulder pats and congratulations. Wood mentioned that the White Eyed Wonder had won the House Cup for them after all, and too patted her on the shoulder.

After a couple of attempts, she resolved to hold her hand over her head to bat away anyone who would try ruffle it. It was awkward, but necessary. It seemed, however, the crowd was more interested in celebrating than discerning a secret identity they had no idea existed.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gryffindor started at 462 points instead of 312 because Ariadne, Ron and Hermione were never out that night, and so never lost the 150 points. No wonder Neville didn’t want them going out, they’d have ended up with 162 points before Dumbledore’s stuff!
> 
> Don’t worry! Kaleidoscopic Grangers does not end after next chapter when she goes back home! I’ll be taking this baby all the way through all 8 movies, so stay tuned for more Ariadne.


	33. Homeward Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione take the train home after their first year at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots more to come folks! We’re going until the end of all 8 movies!

“What do you  _ mean _ you haven’t finished packing?!” Hermione exclaimed as they got back to the Common Room from breakfast. “The train leaves in two hours!”

“It’s  _ fine _ !” Ron protested. “It’s not like I’ll be late!” Ariadne frowned at him. The girls had always packed early, Hermione had already mostly packed before Ariadne had woken up in the Hospital Wing. She couldn’t fathom not being incredibly nervous about forgetting things, and Lavender had had to insist she go to bed at a reasonable hour so everyone else could get to sleep. Regardless, Ron had already vanished up the boys’ dormitory stairs.

“I’m gonna go get Hermes, I’ll be back soon!” Hermione said, hurrying off for the Owlery with his cage rattling in her grasp. Much as they had wanted to just send him home with a letter, his cage was with them and their parents didn’t like the bird flying about the house. Ariadne sat down on the couch, idly fiddling with the handle of her cane and trunk.

“Ah, good morning Miss Granger,” came a stern, matronly voice that filtered into the door just as Hermione had left. “Is Ariadne-” McGonagall was cut off as the Fat Lady portrait closed. Moments later, it opened again, and the familiar colours of Minerva McGonagall strode into the room. “Ah, Miss Granger. All packed, I see?” Ariadne stood hurriedly.

“Ah-mm-yes Professor,” she said, worried. What was this about?

“At ease, Ariadne, I’m not here to eat you. Rather, here to give you something. Now that you are no longer a first-year, the Nimbus 2000 is yours. Logically, it should therefore go with you on holidays,” McGonagall told her. Ariadne tilted her head around - she couldn’t sense the broomstick anywhere. “I’ve taken the liberty of wrapping it for you - wouldn’t want the Muggles at King’s Cross seeing it.” She heard paper crunch down on wood. “Is it all right if I leave it on your trunk?”

“Yes, thank you Professor!” She exclaimed, making sure the broom was where she’d said it was.

“You’re welcome, young lady. Unfortunately, I have places to be, so I will bid you a good holiday, Miss Granger.”

“You too Professor McGonagall!” McGonagall promptly strode from the room, leaving Ariadne alone in the quiet room. She sat there, waiting for maybe ten minutes before a horribly loud commotion threw her out of her skin from the landing above - guessing from the colours that popped up, Ron had fallen down the stairs, and given the sound of popping clasps, his trunk had come open.

“You okay?!” Dean cried, hurrying down the stairs from the sound of it.

“Owwwwwww…” she heard Ron groan. “I’m okay!” he called. The flapping of cloth signalled his hurried attempts to re-pack, but it didn’t sound like he was folding any of his clothes. Eventually, Hermione returned with the gently hooting Hermes as Ron dragged his trunk down the stairs. Ariadne leant over to the cage Hermione was holding.

“Hey there Hermie, who’s my favourite owl? Yes you are - oh hey Ron, you okay?” she said.

“All right - not as bad as the knight. Hey Hermione!” Ron called, dragging his trunk over.

“Ron, are half your clothes  _ supposed _ to be sticking out of the trunk?” Hermione said, mockingly.

“It’s fine, nobody cares.”

“Well, when a muggle sees your robes at King’s Cross and the wizarding world is exposed, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she added. Ariadne snorted as Ron leant down.

“Ugh, fine.” He opened the trunk and flopped the offending robe into it. “Happy?”

“It’s a start,” Hermione replied. “No wonder they’re all poking out. You do know clothes can be  _ folded _ , right?”

“You’re  _ just _ like my mother,” Ron whined, defiantly closing his trunk again. The latch wouldn’t take. “Oh come on.”

“Try folding your clothes next time,” Hermione said.

“We should get going, the stairs are going to be hard with a trunk,” Ariadne said. “And I don’t know how we’re going to carry this if you’ve got Hermes and I need my cane.” She patted the paper that wrapped the broomstick.

“Oh yeah, I saw McGonagall come in with it. We could try that Sticking Spell we’ve been reading about, stick it to the trunk?” Hermione suggested.

“Nah, we’d have to counter it when we got home and we’re not allowed to use that at home. Hey Ron, would you mind carrying this for me?” Ariadne said.

“Uh- sure, yeah. Dean! I’m gonna head down with the sisters, see you in September!” he called back up to the landing.

“You too Ron!” Dean replied. Ron picked up the handle of his trunk and took the broom in his other arm. Ariadne dragged her trunk with her left arm, probing with her right. The small group headed out from the Common Room, and began to make their way to the carriages which waited to bring them to the station.

It wasn’t an easy journey for Ariadne, it never was. The carriages were all the way on the other side of the castle, and the amount of stairs to get to them was inordinately huge, not to mention having to walk all the way down a long path to the gates. It was a long trip, and stairs were hard enough without a heavy case.

Eventually however, they reached the carriages. It was strange; all the other students said they pulled themselves, but Ariadne could see the grey and white magic of a winged, bone-thin horse hitched to each one. Somehow, their magic outlined their entire form, unlike most magical creatures who simply had a core of varying strength to them.

“You’re  _ sure _ you can’t see the horses?” she asked Hermione.

“Positive. There aren’t any horses, are you sure it’s not just the mechanism of an enchantment?”

“No, if they were they’d behave differently. They’re just… horses with wings.”

“Strange. Well, they’re doing a good job whether they’re visible or not,” Hermione said as she helped Ariadne up onto the seat. Despite their initial headstart, they’d arrived at the carriages with the bulk of the students, and the platform itself, once the carts had arrived, was bustling with porters hurriedly moving back and forth, taking trunks on trolleys - many of which were magical, now Ariadne cared to notice - onto the luggage carts while students packed on. However, some students seemed in far less of a hurry, standing around and chatting. Getting in the way really. As they arrived, they passed their luggage onto the trolleys and took Hermes to the owl cart.

“Come on now, hurry up! You’ll be late!” Hagrid called, clapping and trying to get everyone onto the train. “Train’s leavin’, go on, go on. Come on, hurry up!” As Hermione helped her up, Ariadne glanced over at the man.

“S-see you Hagrid! Have a good holiday!” she called quickly.

“You too ‘Adne!” he replied. “Hey now, come on, let’s get moving,” he said to some of the loitering kids, who soon moved.

“Feels strange to be going home, doesn’t it?” Hermione asked as Ron followed Ariadne up onto the car.

“After the other day, yeah. Feels like we only just stopped him,” Ariadne replied. Noticing nobody else was left on the platform now, she leant past Ron, feeling for the handle of the door before pulling it shut. The train smoothly began to move, whistles blowing as Ariadne hurriedly found something to hold onto.

For a few minutes, backpacks weighing them down, the trio couldn’t find somewhere to sit. Every compartment they looked into was full, until they ran across Fred and George sitting together.

“Hey guys, can we come in? Everywhere else is full,” Ron asked, leaning his head in.

“Course you can, Ickle Ronnikins! And the White Eyed Wonder and her sister are always welcome,” George replied.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know, I’m not six anymore,” Ron protested as he stepped in, followed by Ariadne who felt for the seat and sat down as quickly as she could. The train had reached some of the more rickety track and the carriage’s shaking was making it difficult for her to stay upright.

“Oh we’re aware, Ronnikins,” Fred replied. Hermione giggled as she too sat down. Ariadne took her bag off and exhaled. “So, what’re you two doing for the holidays?”

“Oh, nothing much. Mum and Dad want to make sure we don’t miss too much we’d otherwise have learnt at Muggle school, so some math homework basically,” Hermione said, cheerfully.

“That’s right, you guys went to muggle school.” George said.

“Seriously? Math homework? Merlin you two can be boring. It’s the holidays, have some fun!” Fred added.

“Tha-tha-that is fun!” Ariadne exclaimed. “Besides, my birthday’s coming up in a week and it’s not like we’ll be studying  _ all _ holidays. Just a few weeks.”

“Well they’re going to pass their OWLs, that’s for sure,” George said. The door rattled open as the trolley lady turned up.

“Afternoon dears, anything for the taking?” she asked sweetly.

“We’re all-we’re all set,” Ariadne said, holding up her bag. Then, an idea hit her. “Actually, no.” She pulled out a few sickles. “Can we get a few chocolate frogs, a couple boxes of Every Flavour Beans and some Toothflossing Stringmints?” The lady began fetching things, and Ariadne turned to Hermione. “Some stuff for Mum and Dad, they’ve never had these. Thanks!” Ariadne put the new sweets into her already overstuffed bag.

“What about you guys, what are you doing over the holidays?” Hermione asked as the door closed again.

“Haven’t got any real plans,” Fred replied. “It’s Percy’s birthday in August, as well as Ginny’s, but Percy doesn’t like doing birthdays anymore. Ginny’ll have a party though, cake and all that.”

“Lots of birthdays in the holidays, huh? Mine’s early next term,” Hermione said.

“Actually, Ron? Would you like to come over for my birthday?” Ariadne asked, suddenly. She wasn’t even sure she’d asked, but Ron turned enough for her to tell she had.

“Uh-yeah, sure. Thirty-first of July, right?” he replied.

“How do you know my birthday?” she asked, confused. She’d never told him.

“Everyone knows  _ your _ birthday,” Ron said. There was the ever so slight, but just audible enough for Ariadne to hear, sound of Hermione elbowing the boy. The last thing Ariadne wanted was for more people to know she was the Girl Who Lived. “Um. I’ll have to ask Mum but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“We can ask Mum and Dad when we get to King’s Cross,” Hermione said.

“Do you two-um. Do you two want to come stay at our place some time?” Ron asked, meekly.

“Dad’s heard all about you two, wants to meet you he does. He’s fascinated with Muggle culture and technelogy,” George added. “And if anyone can tell him how it is, it’ll be you two.”

“And! If you two are such study heads, you can practice Quidditch with us, Ariadne.” Fred said.

“Huh?” Ariadne tilted her head.

“We’ve got a set. The Snitch is a bit sluggish and the Bludgers are on their last legs, but it’s okay,” Ron said.

“Mum likes it like that, makes it safer she says,” Fred said.

“I’d love to, it’ll be interesting to see a wizarding household. What about you, ‘Adne?” Hermione replied.

“Yeah, sounds great. Who would we play with?”

“I’m sure we can work it out. We all know Mum won’t touch a broom, but sometimes Dad’s got time. Ginny’s not supposed to play, too young, but she does anyway. If it’s all of us as well as both of you, that’s an even amount of people at least.” George said, thoughtfully.

“We’ll ask Mum and Dad when we get there,” Hermione said.

\--

With a rush of wind, Ariadne jogged through the glimmering wall of Platform 9 ¾, casting her mind’s eye around for the signature gold-flecked grey figures of her parents. Hermione flitted out after her, dashing through the wall and coming to an abrupt stop right behind her. To their right a ways were their parents, beside the brilliant blue and yellow of Molly and Ginny Weasley - it seemed the pair had already gravitated to the familiar witch and her daughter. Ron, followed by his brothers popped through shortly after and the motley group immediately got the attention of the Weasley matriarch.

“Ohhhhh, hello boys! And little Hermione, Ariadne! Did you get my parcels on Christmas?” Molly asked, jogging over.

“Hmm! They were really nice, thanks Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione replied. “Hey Mum, Dad!”

“Honestly woman, we knew you always wanted daughters but you didn’t have to make it  _ that _ obvious!” Fred whined, but in a jovial enough tone for everyone to know he was joking.

“Oh you come here!” Molly exclaimed, enveloping Fred in a hug before jumping over to George, while Fred went over and said hi to Ginny.

“Well, she isn’t having our ones,” Valerie said, stepping over and hugging Ariadne. “Hey kiddo, what happened to your hand?” she asked.

“Uh-” Hermione started.

“F-f-fa-fell on some stairs the other day, hurt my hand,” Ariadne stammered. It wasn’t  _ technically _ a lie.

“Eish. Okay, I’ll grab that for ya - wait, what’s this?” Valerie said, taking the trolley.

“Oh! That’s her- we can talk about it in the car..” Hermione replied, realizing where they were, probably about to mention the broomstick.

“Right. All right, let’s be off, gotta get dinner going,” Dennis said.

“Come on, boys,” Molly added. “We’re parked near you lot.” As they walked, Ariadne fiddled with her cane before speaking up.

“Hey Mum?”

“Yes dear?”

“Is- is it okay if Ron comes over on Wednesday?” she asked.

“Oh, for your birthday? I don’t see why not, sure. That all right with you, Molly?” Valerie said.

“Of course! It’s no trouble at all,” Molly replied.

“We’ve not really figured out what we’re doing, so I’ll get Hermione to send Hermes over once we have, all right?” Dennis said.

“I’ll await your owl then,” Molly replied. “Ron, I don’t suppose you’d like your friends to come over some time?”

“Yeah, we were talking about that before actually. Could they stay over for a little bit, in August?”

“Absolutely, your father will love to meet them. If he can find time, of course, they’re bleeding him dry at work.” As they entered the carpark and Ariadne carefully stepped off the curb, she spotted a car. Glimmering with many colours, its form was perfectly defined. She’d assumed it belonged to some rich magical family picking up their kids. The Malfoys perhaps. But it was the Weasleys who made a beeline for it. “All right, see you guys!” she called as she opened the boot, which too was glimmering with light inside as the boys hauled their trunks into it. Despite the tinyness of the vehicle, all of them somehow fit as she watched while she got into the Granger car. The colours inside were practically nonexistent now, and she expected the diminishment to be even worse in the house than it had been during the Christmas holidays.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might take a little longer than usual for Chapter 34 to come out; I gotta plan the next bunch of chapters. I’ve got GENERAL plans until like, the middle of movie 5, but more specific planning needs to be done. On top of that, uni work promises to be busy for a wee bit. But I ain’t stopping this!


	34. Three's A Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne has, for the first time in her life, a birthday party with friends over. A friend, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s be honest, these next few chapters aren’t going to be very story relevant. They’re just fluff, because both we and the gals deserve some.  
> This one might be a smidge stereotypical because uh… just like I have never gone trick or treating, I never had a birthday party before I was like 16 and neither of the ones I have had were good experiences because of my dad’s uncomfortable interference! Huzzah…  
> So that’s another reason this one took a hot sec.  
> TW: Dysphoria, deadnaming, misgendering.

The glittering specks that formed Ariadne’s magic sense slowly blossomed into life like melting film as she blearily woke. Several months of the Hogwarts bell had allowed her to more easily sleep to a schedule, but she’d gotten used to it and she wasn’t actually sure what time it was. She did however know what day it was.

Today was Wednesday the 31st of July, 2002. Her twelfth birthday.

She rolled over a bit, wiping sleep from her eyes and gently yawning. She hadn’t slept well, more nightmares. They weren’t as bad as her first birthday with the Grangers, when she’d woken half expecting to be assaulted and shaking, but they still cropped up around such anniversaries.

Quickly coming to the conclusion that returning to sleep would be quite difficult with the amount of birdsong outside, she sat up, stretching. She sniffed and pushed her covers off, swinging her legs to the side of the bed and putting on her slippers. With her cane in hand, she dawdled out of her room and into the hallway. If she hadn’t woken only ten minutes beforehand, she would have noticed something different. There was more bled colour all around, and not only in her and Hermione’s colours.

She noticed the source of the difference immediately upon rounding the corner into the lounge. In addition to the vague colours smattering the room, bright defined magical streamers hung on string from hooks and glittering yellow letters hung from the opposite wall:

_ HAPPY 12TH BIRTHDAY ARIADNE _

Not only that, but it seemed her family had forgotten she could see in all directions, as they hunched behind couches, magic objects in their hands. An already unbidden smile filled her face at the decorations, and she decided she’d humour them. If they wanted to surprise her, she’d let them think they’d managed. Sure enough, as she walked by, spinning in wonder at the shining ribbons and letters, all three jumped out from behind the couches - Hermione a bit hesitantly - crying “Happy Birthday!” and popping party poppers - again, magical ones that sent sparks and magic fumes swirling about the room, the streamers within beholden to a wind of their own as they flew around her. She idly wondered how much this lot alone must have cost at Diagon Alley as she span, feigning surprise and laughing.

“Happy birthday young lady!” Dennis exclaimed, hugging her. “Sleep well?” Ariadne nodded, grinning.

“You got- there’s- oh my gosh you shouldn’t have!” she exclaimed, facing the decorations and spinning as a thread of magic from the poppers swirled around her head.

“Oh it was nothing,” Valerie said, ruffling her hair. “Thought we’d make sure our littlest princess gets the decorations she deserves, for a change, and it turns out a few places in Diagon had just what we needed.” Ariadne ducked her head a little.

“Thanks, I- uh- I love it. I’m gonna have some breakfast?” she said. She was genuinely pleased, but she was a bit awkward around people doing things for her. 

“All right, you go do that and I’ll be back real quick,” Dennis said, shuffling out of the room and heading upstairs. Before Ariadne could make her way to the kitchen, Hermione dashed over.

“Happy birthday!” she exclaimed. It sounded like she’d held something up, and Hermione gently guided her hand to the small wrapped box. “They’re earrings! I know, you didn’t want to get your ears pierced, but you don’t have to with these! They’re magic, they just stick in place. They’re little Snitches!” Ariadne took the box to the table, unwrapping and opening it as she set it down to reveal two tiny sickly green glowing balls, each hanging from a yellow clasp. Running her hand down them, they were held by a tiny chain and had miniscule feathery wings. She took one up and examined the clasp, holding it up to her cheek. A few seconds later, she’d figured out the mechanism and let it adhere to her earlobe.

The weight on her ear was a little alien, she had to admit. But it wasn’t too heavy, and once she’d put on the other it didn’t feel quite so lopsided.

“Thanks! I love them,” she said, twirling a little. Having the little dots beside her was an interesting experience, but it helped ground her in what direction she was facing physically. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes she’d get disoriented and not know what way was forward.

The pair went about getting breakfast, a combination of cereal, toast and juice - not all in one bowl, as that would have been disgusting - and sat down at the table. Dennis returned, sitting down by them and as they finished eating and announced that Ariadne had more presents.

The newly 12 year old girl opened them eagerly. One was magical and had obviously been bought at Diagon, going by the magic bleeding through the cardboard, while the other two were non-magical; the first, a jigsaw puzzle of a mountain range, which actually had the contours of one to allow her to make it just like a seeing person might make a regular puzzle. The box also had a slightly more flattened, bumpy version to use as reference. Aside, was a notebook - Valerie said that Hermione had always kept a lot of them, and now that Ariadne could use certain inks to read and write they thought she might like one too. On its covers were bumpy designs that she studied with her finger, finding it to be a bunch of flowers embroidered on it. They’d already gone to the liberty of putting little crosses of magic ink in the corners of each page for her so she wouldn’t accidentally run over the edge.

The magic box was last, and contained two things - a small rectangular object, complete with buttons and a USB plug, as well as a pair of earbuds which were connected to it by magic. A magic MP3 player, which would function at Hogwarts! While they knew she didn’t need to record her classes anymore, they wanted to make sure she had the option - in addition, they’d put all the music she had on CDs onto it - several whole David Bowie albums starting with  _ Space Oddity _ , a little Led Zeppelin and various others. Testing it out, the headphones were enchanted so that they’d adjust their volume at a thought, which Ariadne thought convenient.

Just before lunch, Valerie piped up.

“Hey ‘Adne, I know you’re a pajama bug but you gotta get dressed, okay? You’ve got friends over soon, remember?” Ariadne jumped, remembering that Ron would be there in only an hour or so. She hurriedly got dressed before returning to the mountain range, occasionally fiddling with the wings of her earrings. With a mouthful of sandwich, Ariadne heard the signature sound of a car in the driveway, but it was almost heavier than usual, like the vehicle had  _ hit _ the driveway rather than driven onto it. She hurried to the door, as Valerie opened it. Behind it lay the strange magic of their car, which almost seemed to be receding into an inactive state and the glimmers of Ron and Molly Weasley. 

“Valerie! Good to see you, having a good day I hope?” Molly said warmly. “And little Ariadne! Happy birthday young lady!”

“Hey ‘Adne!” Ron called, as Ariadne waved at the pair.

“Okay Ron, you take those, and I’ll be back to pick you up after dinner. All good?”

“Sure!” Ron replied, jostling as he took whatever Molly had handed him. “See you Mum!”

“All right, you have a good time now. See you! Have a great day Ariadne!” Molly called, heading back to the car as Ron shuffled forward.

“Hey Ron!” Ariadne said. “Look! Hermi-mione got me Snitch earrings!” she said, pointing to them.

“Woah! Wicked!” he said. “Wow, your house is really nice!” Ariadne honestly couldn’t comment on that - not only did she not know what the place looked like, nor did she know what standards were held by wizarding society about, say, lightbulbs.

“I m-mean it’s a semi-detached place, Hermione says it’s pretty normal. They’re all the same along this street.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Ron said, idly.

“Come get some snacks, we got sweets,” Valerie said, leading them. As Ron sauntered in, he piped up again.

“Oh, uh, we got you these!” he said, awkwardly handing Ariadne a few more presents - there were two boxes, one larger than the other and atop the stack was a soft piece of fabric. Setting them down, she unravelled the fabric to find it was a knitted scarf, evidently using more of the same magic thread as her Christmas jumper to put a striped design in it. Smiling, she wrapped it gently about her shoulders and felt around the top box. It was mostly card, with a handle on one side. Picking it up with that, she pulled open the lid and felt within a number of teabags.

“Ooo,” she said, smelling them. Somehow they  _ smelled _ warm.

“They’re Phoenix Tear flavour, Mum really likes them. Hey Hermione!” Ariadne frowned as Ron’s magic flickered at that last bit.

“Hi Ron,” Hermione replied. “Having good holidays so far?”

“Yeah, uh, not doing much though. You two?”

“Mostly just been keeping up with math. Algebra’s really interesting, you use letters for some numbers!” Ariadne said, continuing to smell the teas.

“Ew,” Ron said as Hermione laughed. Ariadne set the teabags aside as Ron rattled about in one of the snack bowls. “What’re these?”

“Oh! Those are maltesers, they’re like.. crunchy stuff covered in chocolate.”

“Yes, Muggle sweets don’t jump around and taste like vomit,” Valerie said tauntingly. Ron crunched down on a malteser.

“Huh,” he said. Ariadne felt around the wooden box, which had hinges and clasps. Opening it, she was greeted by a number of magical objects, vials and tools.

“It’s a broomstick maintenance kit!” Hermione said.

“Yeah, I thought you might need one,” Ron added.

“Thanks Ron!” Ariadne exclaimed, examining a few of the things in the kit. She was jolted from her curiosity as the phone on the wall rang. Ron, however, was downright terrified of it. Valerie walked over to pick it up.

“It’s called a telephone, we use them for communication-” Hermione hurriedly explained before whoever was on the other end could hear her explaining what a  _ telephone _ was. A whisper of sound filtered from the phone.

“I’ll hand you over to her,” Valerie said, turning. “ _ Ariadne _ , it’s for you.” The emphasis on her name revealed exactly who was calling as Ariadne carefully made her way over. Their grandparents on their dad’s side had never called her by her real name, and insisted upon referring to her as a boy named Harry even though her name had been legally changed just over a year ago. Taking a deep breath, she took the phone and held it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Ah, Harry! Happy birthday young man, having a good day?” She flinched as her grandfather spoke.

“Mm- yes. Yes, I am. We’re hav-having a friend over,” she stammered.

“Oh that’s good. Good to see you two are finally making friends at that new school. Well I’ll leave you guys to it if you’ve got someone over, have a good day Harry!” he said.

“Y-you too-too.” The man hung up. Ariadne hung the phone back on the wall and shuddered. Her mum patted her on the shoulder as she went back over, somewhat less happy.

“What happened ‘Adne?” Ron asked. Ariadne looked down at the notebook, opening the front page - within, in cursive handwriting was her name. Her real name.  _ Ariadne Lily Granger _ .

“Our- our grandd-ad-ad called,” she muttered. “He doesn’t.. he doesn’t want,” Ariadne trailed off.

“He refuses to call Ariadne his granddaughter. Dennis insists he be allowed to remain in contact but I’ve made it very clear he’s not to come here until he cleans up his attitude,” Valerie clarified.

“Oh- is he a, a, what was the word Hermione?” Ron said.

“Transphobe?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, um-” Ariadne started. “Ron knows about me being trans as well as… um, you know. Nobody else does though,” she said, pointing at her scar.

“Ah. I was going for the adopted angle to obscure that, but okay. Well, so long as he doesn’t go blabbing, we’re all good. I won’t have you putting my daughter in any danger, is that clear?” Valerie said.

After a period of significant awkwardness, the group eventually set about a few activities, ate far too many sweets and tried the tea - Ariadne loved it, and decided this was her new favourite. She’d have to ask Molly where she got it. Ron was pleasantly surprised by the variety and quality of non-magic confectionaries. Hermione said that wizarding confectionaries relied too much on magic and weren’t satisfied with ‘regular’ ones. Ariadne had to agree - the chaotic nature of such things as the chocolate frogs and the unpredictable Bertie Bott’s beans had led her to often be incredibly suspicious of anything magic in food. In addition, they were immensely entertained by Ron’s near illiteracy when it came to non-magical households. Clearly his own didn’t have electricity, since he mispronounced the word when attempting to say it, while he said his dad “knows all about this stuff.” Given his later ignorance, Ariadne guessed the Weasley’s father knew significantly less than he thought. He was surprised by the toaster, the washing machine and by the electric blender Valerie was using to finish off Ariadne’s cake - Ariadne was unusually not allowed in the kitchen to ‘see’ it, so she presumed there were magic decorations there too. The wizard’s biggest shock was the television, and while Dennis ranted at the screen, Ron assumed the people on it could hear him just like a wizarding painting.

Eventually, dinner was had and the cake decorated in glowing icing devoured by the kids, despite protestations to leave some for tomorrow by Dennis. As the kids laid about in the lounge, overly full and talking about Quidditch, the Weasley car scrunched into the driveway.

“That’ll be your mum,” Valerie told Ron, who slowly got up. A knock rapped on the door and Molly was admitted. The usual overly long conversations of parents when kids were waiting to depart ensued, while Ariadne, Hermione and Ron stood around awkwardly - although Ariadne did find out that the teas came from Rosa Lee Teabag in Diagon Alley. Eventually, however, Molly took Ron and they went to the car, while the girls and their parents stood in the doorway.

“See you soon guys!” Ron called as he got in.

“See you Ron!” both Hermione and Ariadne called in unison. But something was off, Ariadne noticed as the words escaped her lips.

Her voice.

She wasn’t certain, but she knew it was going to happen sooner or later.

Her voice was breaking.

A sense of dread hung over Ariadne as they wound down, finally going to bed far later than usual. She’d known this was going to happen ever since Hermione had accidentally looked up puberty in the dictionary. 

She didn’t want it. Not this. She didn’t want her voice to go all deep, to start growing a beard. No.

As she stressed well into the wee hours of the morning, Madam Pomphrey’s offer rang in her mind, trailing off as her magic sense darkened and she fell into an uneasy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez I wish I’d been able to access the healthcare I have earlier - I’m stuck with a voice I hate, at least Ariadne gets the opportunity to counteract it early.


	35. Magic Carpet Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione head to the Weasleys’, to stay for a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life got super busy for a sec there! Apologies if this one was a little slow, even though I’ve planned all the way to Chapter 70.

“I’ve just remembered, I need to go grab my toothbrush,” Hermione exclaimed, bustling over to the bathroom. When she returned, she shoved the previously absent brush into a plastic bag along with her other toiletries. They had been waiting in the lounge for Mrs. Weasley to arrive and pick them up, bags surrounding them as well as an unwrapped Nimbus 2000 - their parents had been curious to see it shortly after their return from Hogwarts.

Ariadne tapped her foot repetitively, not in impatience but excitement. She’d never seen a wizarding household, and looked forward to finding out what the differences would be. Constant use of magic was an obvious one, but she wondered about more mundane things. Entertainment, logistics; Ron had been unfamiliar with television, computers or telephones, so she wondered what his equivalents were, if any. She knew paintings and photos moved and could talk, what about family photos? Could Ron literally talk to a photographic copy of himself?

Were the photos sentient? Every newspaper clipping she’d ‘seen’ her peers throw in fires?

With that disturbing curiosity filling her mind, she stood up and stretched. She’d actually slept well for once the night before, with a strange dream filled with psychedelic colour combinations. She always heard of how absurd others’ dreams often were, and she was glad for the occasional one like that instead of her usual nightmares. As the rumbling of the kettle changed pitch, she headed over and picked up her mug. Once the button clicked off again, she held the mug up to the spout and carefully began pouring. Once the slight coating of magic vanished below the water, she stopped, slowly putting the hot mug back down and dropping a teabag into it, as well as a little honey. After stirring it, she listened closely for the ticking of the clock - she always let her tea sit for just under a minute, both to let the tea steep and to let it cool a little. Once done, she scooped the bag out and dumped it in the trash.

She wasn’t sure if you were  _ supposed  _ to put milk in the Phoenix Tear tea or if Mrs. Weasley would consider it downright heretical, but that was how she liked it. She was glad her mug had enough of her magic on it that she could use what was hidden to tell the level, otherwise she’d surely overfill it. Taking a sip of the now much cooler tea, she leant on the bench idly before she dipped a gingernut in it.

A knock on the door echoed through the house. Startled, she dropped the entire biscuit into the tea. Divided between whether or not to retrieve what was surely well on its way to becoming ginger flavoured mush or to abandon the mug altogether and instead gather up her bag, she took neither route and instead stood rock still.

“Don’t worry about that, go get your bag,” Valerie said, passing on her way to the door. Ariadne floundered for a second before tearing her begrudging mind off the wasted tea and biscuit, sweeping her way into the hallway and feeling for her bags. The blockage of the door opened and once more, Molly Weasley glimmered out from behind Valerie.

“Ah, Valerie! So sorry I’m late. I’d say it was traffic, but er, there isn’t any. Had some holdups getting ready, shouldn’t be too many problems,” Molly said, following Valerie back in.

“Come in, come in! How’ve you been?” Valerie asked.

“Oh all right. Plenty busy with all the boys back home,” Molly replied. “Well, most of the boys anyway, Bill and Charlie obviously aren’t around often.

“What do they do?”

“They’ve flown the coop - Bill does curse-breaking for Gringotts and Charlie’s working with dragons in Romania,  _ no idea _ where he got all that from but he’s certainly doing well for himself. Have you got any-?”

“Nah, we didn’t exactly start early. Just little ‘Mione here,” Valerie replied. 

“Hello Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione chanted quickly.

“We weren’t going to have any more but when we met ‘Adne here we just  _ had  _ to take her in.” Ariadne grinned, waving. “Hey, when we adopted you you were six, you’ve been with us for almost more time than you were with the bad people!” Dennis chuckled happily behind her. She wasn’t technically right, Ariadne knew - if one considered the time she was with her blood family, she’d been a Granger for quite a bit longer than she’d been with the Dursleys, and Ariadne had quietly celebrated that on her own the year before.

“Isn’t that just lovely?” Molly cooed. “I do hate to cut such a positive note short, but we’d really best be off. I’m sure Ronald is just bouncing off the walls by now.” As the pair hugged their parents goodbye, confirming that they’d meet up at Diagon Alley the following Sunday, and followed Mrs. Weasley over to the car, Ariadne piped up.

“Mrs. Weasley?” she said.

“Yes dear?”

“How come your car is enchanted?”

“Oh!” Molly chuckled. “You’ll find out,” she said, smugly. “Everyone strapped in?” Ariadne nodded, confirming her seatbelt was secure.

“Yes,” Hermione said, simply. It was a strange experience, this car. While it shared the clear spread of magic from individuals, the frame itself being magic made it very distinct. Molly reversed out of the driveway, turning back onto the road before pressing a button on the dashboard - Ariadne watched curiously as even the windscreen and windows became solid blocks of magic. Hermione, meanwhile gasped as she leant into one of them.

“Your car can go invisible?!” she exclaimed. Molly suppressed a laugh as she unexpectedly changed gears and gravity forced Ariadne’s body into the chair and Ariadne flailed her arms for immediate purchase on something. Hermione screamed and grabbed Ariadne’s arm.

“What’s happening?!” Ariadne exclaimed.

“It’s magic because it’s a flying car!” Molly replied, laughing openly now. Ariadne immediately grabbed her seat, sinking even further into the worn leather seat.

This was a far less pleasant experience flying than Ariadne was used to, for several reasons. One, she didn’t have control of it, and two, it was disorienting that she couldn’t sense anything outside the vehicle. The rumble of the engine through her legs was also entirely too unpleasant. Hermione however, seemed to have quickly gotten used to it and was peering out of the windows.

“Having fun, Hermione?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“I’ve never been on a plane before, it’s interesting!” Hermione replied. “Everything’s so small from up here.”

“A plane? Oh an ay-ero plane? Arthur’s mentioned them, Muggles fly in them don’t they?”

“Oh no,” Hermione murmured. “There’s no way this complies with aviation laws.” Ariadne burst out laughing. She wasn’t even sure if the car complied with  _ magical _ aviation laws.

“Uhhh…” Molly said, as if she wasn’t sure either. After that awkwardness passed, Molly spoke again. “Now, unfortunately Ginny’s room is a little smaller than I thought,  _ one _ spare bed can fit in there but not both, so one of you’s going to have to sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch, it’s okay,” Hermione said, noting Ariadne’s concern.

“Y-you’re sure?” she asked.

“It’s all right. Besides, we both know you’d roll off it fairly quickly.” It was true, Ariadne tended to toss and turn  _ a lot _ .

“That’s settled then. We’ll make sure you get the good thick blankets,” Molly said.

\--

The car crunched onto what Molly said was the driveway of the Weasley’s house; a house called The Burrow. The invisibility had been dropped not long before, but while the windows were no longer enchanted Ariadne still couldn’t see through the solid panes.

“Home sweet home!” Molly said gladly, undoing her seatbelt and getting out. Taking the cue, Ariadne swung her bag back over onto her back and got out. What greeted her was a well coated field, with what seemed to be a pigpen to one side as well as a shed and directly ahead was a house. The house itself was magic, looking as if the original structure had been only one storey before a veritable tower was mounted upon it with a ramshackle support system composed mostly of spells.

“Woah…” she murmured. Steering clear of the pig pen, she followed Molly who opened the rather unconventional front door - the top half functioned as a lifted window and the bottom a gate. Within was a house even more chaotically magic than Hogwarts’ interior had been. A huge number of things in the room were magic, including a pot and pan which seemed to be washing themselves with an enchanted brush over a sink. Above those and illuminated by the ambient magic was an intricate series of pipes crawling up the wall, with a number of taps and valves. What appeared at first glance like it was a clock had far too many hands, one of which wound noisily around to the entirely opposite side of its face as soon as Molly got in the door. A long table with mismatching chairs coated in varying versions of the Weasley family’s magics stood in the middle of the room, seemingly adorned with stacked plates and various jars. A huge fireplace stood around a corner, with a pot of glimmering green powder hanging on a hook to its side. As Ariadne wandered in, awe filling her face, she ‘saw’ even more as a pair of knitting needles hovered, working on their own as they clicked along above a small couch.

“This is… this is brilliant!” Ariadne exclaimed.

“Oh it’s not much, but it’s home,” Molly replied.

\--

“The stairs aren’t too much of a problem I hope?” Molly asked, leading Ariadne up to the second floor where Ginny’s room was while Ron and Hermione caught up downstairs.

“Th-they’re a little uneven,” Ariadne replied ruefully, probing for the next step. Finally reaching the landing, Molly showed her in.

“It’s a wee bit cramped with the spare bed, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Ginny dear, Ariadne’s going to be staying with you for the week, okay?” Ariadne waved awkwardly, peering in past the Weasley matriarch.

“Hello,” she stammered.

“Okay! Hi Aria-” Ginny gasped. “ _ Ariadne _ ?!” Ariadne pulled back a little. Had she done something wrong? “Wow!” Ginny jumped off the bed she’d been sitting on and hurried over. “I’m Ginny, I’ve heard so much about you!”

“She’s been talking about you all week!” Ron called from the living room.

“Ha, well, I’ll let you two get acquainted - mind showing her where all this is? I know she can see magic but I dunno how much here is magic enough,” Molly said, turning to go back downstairs. It seemed most everything in Ginny’s room was well-covered by her magic, predominantly gold with crimson tinges. She could tell the outline of the bed she’d been given, as well as what she hoped was all of the furniture.

“Sure! Oh, Mummy?”

“Yes dear?”

“Will Dad be home tonight?” Ginny asked.

“Merlin knows. With the amount of work he’s had lately I doubt it. Hopefully he’ll be in tomorrow, eh? Now, I’ve got to go see what I can do about dinner, with all eight of us, possibly nine if your father manages it.” Ginny began trying to show Ariadne about the room, and luckily there wasn’t anything important invisible to her. 

“What’s Hogwarts like?” Ginny asked excitedly as the pair sat cross-legged on their respective beds. “I’m so looking forward to it!” 

“It’s… there’s a lo-lot of stairs,” Ariadne started, unsure how to answer the question. “The teachers are mostly nice, but Snape’s a bit mean.”

“Snape’s the Slytherin guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s Head of Slytherin house. McGonagall is Gryffindor’s, Flitwick is Raven-” Ariadne replied, before Ginny spoke again.

“Do you think I’ll be in Gryffindor?” she blurted.

“I- what?” Ariadne spluttered. She wasn’t annoyed at being interrupted, just a bit confused.

“What if the Hat puts me somewhere else, I won’t know anyone!”

“Well,” Ariadne trailed off.  _ That _ fear she understood. “Wh-wh-when-when it sorted Ron, it... didn’t seem to care much about what he was like, it just said it.. knew where to put him because he was a Weasley. Maybe it’ll do the same with you,” she suggested. “And even if it doesn’t and puts you somewhere else, I-I didn’t know anyone either. You-you’ll be okay.” Ginny seemed satisfied, and their excited conversation evolved as Ron and Hermione climbed the stairs to join them and the smell of dinner wafted into the air. Eventually, they were saved by the call of Mrs. Weasley to dinner, as Ginny turned to the mystery of Harry Potter’s disappearance and the heavy footfalls of Fred and George stampeded by, followed by the steadier Percy.

Ariadne was last to leave to dinner, making sure her broomstick was put away. This week was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I’m not quite as busy while I write the next chapters xD


	36. The Purpose of a Rubber Duck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first full day at the Weasleys’, and Arthur Weasley is incredibly curious about his new, presumably both muggle born, guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little more fluff with the Weasleys.

She stirred suddenly as her magic sense shot into activity, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she?

Oh right.

Ginny’s room. Ginny was laying in her own bed across the small room, a glimmer of her core poking out from the blankets. Ariadne exhaled in relief. She couldn’t remember it, but whatever her dream had been had left her with sweat beading on her forehead and the blankets a mess. She buried her head in her hands for a moment before pulling off the covers. Until Ginny was up and about, she didn’t feel comfortable getting changed just yet, so she pulled on her dressing gown and quietly probed her way from the room. Hermione was usually awake earlier than her, and indeed was as she hesitantly made her way down the uneven staircase.

“Good morning Ariadne!” Hermione said, hushed a bit. “Sleep okay?” Ariadne stopped, holding her hand up in a quivering motion as if to say ‘kind of.’ Hermione was sitting on the couch, seemingly with the blanket balled up beside her - at least based on what of the couch she couldn’t sense. Ariadne found her way to the ground floor and went to sit down on the couch, before noticing the knitting needles were still hovering over it, clicking along.

“Have- have these been going all night?” she asked.

“Yes, it’s actually good - helped me sleep,” Hermione replied, sitting up a bit. Ariadne fumbled around wondering if the needles could be pushed so she could sit there, but as she was unwilling to touch them in fear of disturbing the knitting, she gave up and took one of the wooden ones by the table. She sighed.

“Th-th-this place is really cool, I can see almost everything,” she said, pivoting a little. “The corner of the table is… here,” she added, hesitantly reaching out and grabbing the corner first try, at which Hermione bounced a little in surprise. Normally, she had to guess and was usually off, but with the amount of magic here, it was clear as daylight to her.

Well, if daylight were clear to her, that was. Clear as if it were enchanted, but she could see that it wasn’t. Enchanted objects felt different, the magic was almost internal rather than a coating - sometimes something was both, and she could sense the differences there as well, like the ‘clock’ Ron had explained tracked the family’s movements. She thought the object a strange violation of Ron’s privacy, but at least its categories were vague. The fact that “Prison” was an already established category made her wonder about some of the histories of Ron’s relatives.

“Even the blanket?” Hermione asked, curiously.

“No,” Ariadne replied. “I think that’s usuall-lly in a cupboard, so it’s not- I can’t see it. I can see where it is from where I can’t see the couch though!”

“That’s fascinating,” Hermione said. “I suppose it helps that their parents are magic too so it doesn’t diminish when they go to Hogwarts, instead of what happens for our house.”

“Yeah. There  _ are _ five of them too, so anything Mr. and Mrs. Weasley don’t get would come back quick.” Almost as if summoned, the creaking wood and footfalls announced the arrival of a yawning Molly Weasley.

“Oh, good morning girls. Did you sleep all right, Hermione?” Molly asked as she batted the knitting needles to the side with the same care as a cat knocking over a glass and sitting in the chair they had hovered over. Ariadne tilted her head in confusion, worried whether the knitting was interrupted. “Oh don’t worry, they’re fine. I could whack them with a Beater’s bat and as long as I didn’t snap them they’d still be carrying on.”

“I slept well. Surprisingly comfortable couch,” Hermione replied.

“Not too cold, I hope?”

“No, it was fine.”

“Well that’s good,” Molly said, before another set of cataclysmic footfalls filled the air - the Twins. “Time for a spot of breakfast, I see.”

\--

“There we are, ‘Adne. Now tuck in,” Molly said, depositing a plate of food in front of Ariadne as the smell of eggs and bacon wafted through the house. “That’s it, there we go,” she added as Ariadne found the bulk of the meal with her fork and Molly gave Hermione hers. Hermione had long since gotten dressed, and Ariadne was awkwardly aware she was probably the only one at the table - including Ron and the Twins - in her pajamas. Luckily, it seemed Ginny had finally woken, and was coming downstairs. The younger girl jogged to her mother’s side.

“Mummy, have you seen my jumper?” she asked.

“Yes dear, it was on the cat,” Molly replied, at which Ginny immediately jogged back upstairs.

“Cat?” Ariadne asked, swallowing.

“Lancelot. He’s not really ours, a stray really, but he sticks around and Mum always feeds him. He’ll probably be hiding, he doesn’t like new people,” Ron explained. Ariadne jumped as another person appeared at the door, pushing open the gate section. This one was more blue than the rest of the Weasley family, it seemed.

“Morning, Weasleys!” the figure called as he entered.

“Morning Dad!” the kids replied, with Molly addressing the man as Arthur. This was obviously Ron’s father.

“What a night! Nine raids. Nine!” Arthur lamented as he put what sounded like a hat and a case on the bench before sitting at the head of the table beside Ariadne and Hermione.

“Raids?” Hermione asked, quizzically.

“Dad works in the Ministry of Magic, in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Dad loves Muggles. Thinks they’re fascinating.” Arthur stopped moving.

“And who are you two? No, it can’t be,” he said.

“O-oh, sorry sir, I’m Ariadne, Ariadne Granger. And this-is my sister, Hermione,” Ariadne replied, as she was closest.

“Excellent, excellent! Well, Ron has told us all about you two of course. When did they get here?”

“Yesterday, I picked them up, tested out those enchantments of yours for you while I was at it. Smooth ride the whole way to Surrey and back. Invisibility booster’s working a treat!” Molly replied.

“Oh thanks Love, I was worried about that one. Now, Grangers, you two must know all about Muggles,” Arthur said. “Tell me. What  _ exactly _ , is the function, of a  _ rubber duck _ ?”

“Er-” Ariadne stuttered. He knew even less than she’d expected. “I mean it- it kind of just… floats, I guess?”

“They don’t really have a function as such, Mister Weasley,” Hermione explained. “They’re more… decorative.”

“Fascinating!” Arthur exclaimed. “So many wizards think of muggles as lesser, but they’ve so much to show us.”

“We also have… other bath decorations, if you’re curious. For example, a ‘bath bomb,’” Hermione added.

“A bomb?! Muggles put  _ bombs _ in their baths?!”

“Ahhh- it’s-it’s-it’s not a  _ real _ bomb, Mister Weasley,” Ariadne said. “It’s just a set of chemical compounds that can make the water smell or look different.”

“I understand there are spells that can do that?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, it’s extraordinary. Muggles have found ways to do the same things we do without magic! I’m surprised more of the Wizarding world haven’t adopted radios yet, they’re far more efficient than owls.”

“M-m-might have something to do with the Statute of Secrecy,” Ariadne suggested.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Fred asked George.

“So far, but I don’t think I will for much longer,” George replied.

“What does the Statute have to do with it?” Arthur asked.

“Radio waves are quite easy to intercept with the right equipment. To ensure secrecy, we’d need to use encryption and that’s not particularly convenient,” Hermione said.

“Aaaaand they’ve lost me,” George said.

“Encryption is codes and the like, correct?” Percy asked. Ariadne nodded.

“These telly phones I’ve heard about, they work using radio technology?” Arthur asked.

“No, those are just wires. You don’t have to just send sounds, you can send images with the right receiver. That’s one form of tele _ vision _ , but there are better ways.”

“Incredible,” Arthur said, while the rest of the children stifled laughs at the confusing babble. “And these all work on eclectisity, yes?” It was then that Ginny arrived again, probably dressed.

“You can use the room to get changed now, Ariadne,” she said, sitting down and starting to eat.

“Thanks,” Ariadne said, laughing a little. “It-it’s e-lec-tric-it-y,” she said.

“I  _ told _ you you were saying it wrong!” Molly said.

“Oh, you weren’t saying it right either,” Arthur protested.

\--

It seemed Arthur was very enthusiastic about talking with his new guests - he apparently might not have been able to stay for too long, as the Department was busy, so he wanted to ask as much as possible. Even the children had listened, mostly confused save for Percy who seemed to share a modicum of his father’s curiosity. By the afternoon, just Ron was listening while Ariadne, Hermione, and his father discussed the differences between the two worlds.

“I think the thing about the Wizarding world is that the Statute of Secrecy means society doesn’t grow much. It’s like you’re all stuck in the olden days, because there’s no invention when magic does everything,” Hermione said. “Not just technologically, but socially as well.”

“Hmm!” Ariadne piped up. “Hogwarts is…  _ very _ old English. Non-magical people mingle between cultri- countries and cultures a lot more  _ b-because _ they’re not worried about staying secret. Even on-on a sup-uper-super-super-super-super… superficial level, we have Chinese food for dinner a lot at home,” she said, pushing through a bad stammer catch.

“My lord, I’d never even thought of it like that!” Arthur exclaimed. “How… how does one make Chinese food?”

“Um…”

“We don’t make it ourselves, we don’t know the recipes, we buy it. Why do you ask?” Hermione explained.

“Maybe we can have that tonight!” Arthur replied eagerly. “Where do you buy it?”

“Uh- if-f-f-f-if we we-were home there’s a good takeaway place nearby but I don’t know about here,” Ariadne replied.

“I’ll have to see if there’s anywhere in town, a ‘takeaway’ place you said?”

“Yes. Doesn’t have to be Chinese, could always get Indian or something. Pizza’s not bad.” Hermione said.

“Excellent! Molly dear!” Arthur called, clapping his hands together and making Ariadne jump.

“Yes, Arthur?” Mrs. Weasley replied from the living room.

“The Grangers and I have a dinner plan, we’re going to take the car in to town!” After making sure Arthur had sufficient Muggle money on him, he drove them to the relatively nearby city of Exeter - a significantly quicker drive when one’s car could fly. It was the first time they’d been there, but after about an hour, had successfully ordered pizza and garlic bread for the entire nine-member household. Arthur’s bemused behaviour was a tad embarrassing and they were concerned he’d entirely accidentally breach the Statute with his loud questions, but if anything else Ariadne’s blindness served to distract a lot of people. Finally, however, the smell of cheese and garlic bread filled the inside of the Ford Anglia and they were on their way home.

“Hopefully this doesn’t all go cold by the time we get back,” Ariadne said, worried. She doubted the Weasleys had a microwave of all things.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, Molly’s pretty good at food magic. She’ll have it all reheated in a jiffy.” Indeed, Arthur was right. While the dull warmth of the pizza had largely soaked into Ariadne’s lap, Molly had it back to the heat it had been when it had left the oven with a flick of her wand and a wave of orange magic.

As it turned out, while the Weasleys had heard of pizza, they’d never had it before. They’d bought several varieties, and Arthur was immensely entertained by the alleged degree to which non-magical people fought over the placement of pineapple on pizza, and the entire family had enjoyed pretending to take such issues seriously and even extending it to such things as pepperoni, whether fish was an acceptable topping, as well as the capsicum on the ‘supreme’ variety. Hermione had protested when the Twins started questioning whether the  _ base _ was necessary, but quickly realized they were messing with her. It had been expensive, but with the entire family full, Arthur somewhat more informed about cuisine that wasn’t 17th century English, and Molly planning to reverse-engineer the recipe, it had been worth it.

As Ariadne finished the last of her dessert, Fred swung down the stairs with a broomstick in his hand, quickly followed by George.

“Hey Ariadne! Wanna play some Quidditch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I had to invent a cat for Molly to have been talking about.  
> Also pineapple belongs on pizza I will fight you (then again I don’t like cheese and get mine without it - pineapple reintroduces a much-needed degree of moisture when you do that)


	37. Sluggish Bludgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weasleys take the Grangers out to the orchard to play some Quidditch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I’d combined this one with the last it would have absolutely been called The Purpose of a Rubber Bludger and that was too funny to me to leave in my brain.  
> TW: Dysphoria, outing. Yes, I know this was meant to be fluff, but my brain has betrayed me and gone on an angst trip. Enjoy.

Ariadne hurried back down the stairs, perhaps faster than she should have, broomstick in her left hand and cane in her right.

“I want you lot back inside when it gets dark, is that clear?” Molly yelled as they barrelled out of the door as fast as Ariadne’s probing would allow.

“Yes mum!” the Twins called in unison. As soon as she was out of the door, Ariadne quickly realized the unevenness of the ground would be inconvenient and mounted her broom early, hovering alongside the group.

“We’re not there yet, what are you doing?” Ron asked.

“Th-the ground’s all bump. Bumpy. Easier to fly,” Ariadne replied, twirling a little, Snitch earrings swinging a bit from her earlobes. She wondered if she should have taken them off, but it wasn’t as if this was a ‘real’ match. Unfortunately, her jeans didn’t have big enough pockets for them, not if she didn’t want the little wings to break.

“Okay, so, I’m thinking we split up, George,” said George. “You can take Ariadne and Ginny, I’ll take Ron and Hermione.” Ariadne stifled a laugh at the flip. “We’ll be the Beaters, the Grangers can be the Seekers and Ron and Ginny can be Chasers.” Ariadne nodded, veering over to Ginny.

“Got it,” Ron said.

“We don’t have any hoops, so we’ll use the tall trees at each end of the orchard. If you can lodge the Quaffle in the tree, you get points,” Fred, who was pretending to be George, said. They stopped in the centre of what must have been a field - unfortunately, nothing was particularly illuminated, so Ariadne hoped there weren’t any overly tall trees. She heard the Twins put down the box of balls - within was the glimmer of their Snitch, which was a slightly dimmer green than the Hogwarts ones, two angry but ultimately sluggish Bludgers, and the space she presumed the Quaffle resided in. “Coin toss to see who gets the Quaffle?” The Twins stepped together again.

“We won’t get hurt, will we?” Hermione asked, worried.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about that,” George replied.

“The Bludgers aren’t very good, they’ll just bonk you,” said Fred. 

“Stay low and if you get knocked off you’ll just get a bit muddy.”

“And you, Ariadne can go easy on your sister here. She’s not the White Eyed Wonder,” Fred added. “And we do want to be fair, don’t we?”

“How fair?” Ginny asked, mischievously. “We all know I’m a better Chaser than Ron.”

“Are not!” Ron protested.

“Am so.” Ginny blew a raspberry at her brother.

“Okay maybe we don’t want to be fair,” Fred said. “I won the coin toss, so, Ginny, there’s the Quaffle.” She heard Fred toss Ginny the mundane ball.

“Shall we?” Said George, mounting up. Everyone else got on their brooms, Ron, Hermione and Ginny’s connections a bit weaker than the Gryffindor players, particularly Ginny’s, but serviceable. Fred released the Bludgers and Snitch, before getting up into the air.

Ariadne took position a ways above Ginny and Fred on their assigned side of the orchard. This Snitch was a bit dim and she hadn’t been able to keep track of it - to be fair, she probably shouldn’t have tried anyway, bad sportsmanship.

“Go!” George barked, jumping forward and immediately batting a Bludger toward Ariadne. She effortlessly rolled to avoid it as it came from straight ahead of her. It rolled back, this time targeting Ginny.

“Ginny!” she called as it flew toward the girl; despite Ariadne’s fear for Ginny’s safety, the ball hit her back and bounced off, only sending the younger girl careening a bit. She did however drop the Quaffle, and Ron caught it before Ginny was hot on his tail. Ron dumped the Quaffle into what sounded like the tree and yelled.

“Ha! Who’s the better Chaser now, huh?” Ginny huffed in annoyance.

“Hey Ariadne! Move a sec, would you?” Ginny called. Complying, Ariadne moved aside, before she heard the Quaffle get hucked with more strength than she’d expected from Ginny past her. A crash of leaves heralded points for their team.

“What the hell?!” George called. “1-1, I see.” Ariadne dodged a Bludger he’d sent her way, which diverted to Hermione. It whacked into Hermione’s shoulder and she lost her course, hitting the ground with a squelch.

“Euuuurgh… hate mud, hate mud, hate mud,” Hermione repeated as she got back in the air. Ariadne caught a sickly green glimmer behind herself, and shot into motion backwards. Spinning herself around, she almost immediately closed with the Snitch and caught it.

“H-hey! Sixteen-one, we win!” Ariadne called, holding up the Snitch. George groaned as Ginny and Fred cheered.

“Okay, that’s not fair, she can see behind her!” Ron called.

“George!” called George. “Swap roles with ‘Adne! Wood does always say she’d make a good Beater, might level the field a bit! We all know you’re a useless Seeker, and Hermione’s never played before so,”

“Good point,” Fred replied. He flew over to Ariadne, handing her the bat. “That all good?”

“I-I can’t see the Qu-quaffle, so sure. Good luck!” Ariadne swung the bat about a bit. She didn’t like flying with one hand on the broom, but it’d be fine.

“Three, two one! Go!” Fred yelled, as Ron - who had the Quaffle to start this time - jumped forward. Ariadne sprung into action, heading toward a Bludger and hitting it toward George, who batted it off toward Ginny. The second Bludger swung over toward Ariadne from behind her, and she immediately span to hit it at Ron, who hadn’t seen it coming and got knocked into the mud while Ginny scored an easy point. “One nil!” Fred called as Ron got back in the air. The other Bludger came near and she shot it toward George from behind him. He heard it and tried to evade it, but shortly he too was downed and the same Bludger bonked Hermione, who stayed in the air this time.

“Bloody hell Ariadne, you’re a menace!” Fred called.

“Th-tha-anks!” Ariadne replied, keeping an ‘eye’ on the first Bludger.

“Hey!” came a distant call - Molly. “Last game, it’s getting dark! Don’t want you lot crashing into trees!”

“Right then, Hermione. May the best Seeker - woah!” Fred taunted, before Hermione rocketed past him in chase of a green dot. Ariadne intercepted a Bludger on its way to Ginny, aiming it at her sister but missed as Hermione accelerated and caught the Snitch.

“I did it!” Hermione exclaimed. “I caught the Snitch!”

\--

The group had split off - George and Fred were busy retrieving the Bludgers, while Ginny took Hermione’s loaned broomstick to the shed for her - Hermione hated the texture of mud, especially dried mud, and insisted on taking a shower as soon as possible. Ariadne had hovered back to the door and met the ground once more - she wasn’t muddy, but being the Beater was more of a workout, so she was certainly sweaty and just wanted to put on her pajamas. She closed the door to Ginny’s room and set the Nimbus 2000 down on the dresser. She knew she’d left the pajamas on her bed, so she set about making sure she knew where they were before undressing.

She shuddered, unwillingly imagining how she must look without her clothes on. She’d never seen herself either since she was three, and that was neither something she remembered nor was it accurate to her current existence. Putting it out of her mind as best she could, she undressed as footsteps rumbled up the stairs.

“Thanks George!” Ginny called, just outside. Ariadne froze as she realized Ginny didn’t know she was getting changed.

The door opened and Ginny’s magic entered. Ariadne shrieked, desperately trying to cover herself with a blanket. Ginny too span.

“Woah! Sorry! Didn’t know you were... getting changed. Sorry,” she said, shuffling out and closing the door again. Adrenaline running amok through her body, Ariadne couldn’t stop shaking as she hurriedly put her pajamas on. She tripped over a sleeve and collapsed to the floor. She stood back up, rubbing a sore knee. “Ariadne? Are you okay?” Ginny called from outside.

She needed to stop panicking, she realized as she tried to get hold of her breath. She didn’t know how much Ginny had just found out, and if she didn’t know, panicking would only be weird. Holding her head in her hands, she wrestled her lungs back into order and stopped. Her hands were still shaking as she took hold of the doorhandle.

“D-do-dd-ddd-do-do-done,” she stammered, feigning a smile and stepping back. Ginny came in, sitting down on the bed. Ariadne almost took relief from her silence, before she spoke up.

“Ariadne? Are.. are you a boy?!” Ginny asked. Ariadne’s breath hitched and she pointlessly clenched her eyes shut.

“No. Nnnnn-n-n-not a boy,” she mumbled.

“But you- you’re - you’ve got…”

“I know,” Ariadne whined. “It’s wrong, I’m a girl.”

“I don’t… I don’t get it. You’ve got a.. But you’re a girl?” Ginny at least seemed confused rather than accusatory, but Ariadne wanted to fold in on herself into nothingness. She struggled to force herself to go to the door.

“Hermione!” she called, desperately. No response.

“She’s… she’s having a shower, remember?” Ginny told her. Ariadne whimpered, closing the door and burying her head in her hands. She needed to get Ginny on her side, she needed to explain this.  _ Now _ .

Alone.

Every other time, she’d had Hermione to help. Not this time.

She sighed, sitting back down on the bed.

“It’s- I’m-” she started. She didn’t know how to word this, but silence would only lead to Ginny thinking she was a boy and wanting her out of her room. “Have- h-have you ever heard the word transgender?” she asked, quietly and measuredly.

“No, what does that mean?”

“Hm-um---- I’m tr-transgender. My body is… my body is like a boy’s, but I’m a girl. I’m a girl!” she said, carefully. She could feel her whole head flushing.

“Wh- huh?” That seemed to have gone over her head.

“B-bb-bb-b-bo-bo-bod-ody male. Mind female,” Ariadne said, starting to have trouble forcing herself to talk and trying to use the simplest sentences possible just so she could.

“So… your body is a boy, but your mind is a girl?” Ariadne wobbled her head around, before settling on just nodding. It wasn’t technically how it worked, but if it was the easiest way for Ginny to get it then it would have to do. “How did that happen? Is it a magic thing?” Ariadne could feel herself starting to cry. This was far too much pressure to have been thrust upon her on such short notice.

“Nnnn-no, it’s just. It’s just a thing, it just happens some-some-some-times. Mmmm-mm-m--m… non-magical people have known about it for a while,” Ariadne explained. “Please don’t tell anyone! A-a lllll-lot of p-ppppp-po-people are mm-m-mean about it-it-” her voice went hoarse all of a sudden. “Nrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhh” she whined, folding over on the bed and burying her face in the blankets. She was already stressed, she didn’t need  _ this _ on top of it.

“I won’t tell any- what happened, are you okay?” Ginny reassured her, coming over and leaning over her. Ariadne whimpered, tears now flowing freely, and pointed to her throat. She couldn’t talk anymore. “Oh. Oh no, oh, your- your voice is breaking isn’t it?” Ariadne nodded into the mattress. “I’m sorry.”

They sat there for a bit, Ginny patting her on the shoulders, awkwardly trying to comfort the crying girl. 

“Um, does Ron know?” Ginny eventually asked. By then, Ariadne was sitting up, and she nodded, still mute. “I’m sorry I walked in on you, that’s… this was hard for you.”

Sleep was hard for Ariadne that night, and had probably only mercifully taken her into darkness a few hours before she’d need to wake again. She’d make sure Hermione knew Ginny knew in the morning, but so far, at least no damage had been done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GODDAMMIT BRAIN THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FLUFF!! Sorry, I’m a sucker for angst.   
> Also Hermione would likely have been doing the knuckle-tapping stim a bunch because of the mud; it’s a drawback of Ariadne being blind that I can’t necessarily always say when she would be. Those that make enough noise for her to pick up on it are easy, but not all of them do - assume she stims more than I say, ‘cos this is all from Ariadne’s perspective.


	38. Diagonally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weasleys take the Grangers to Diagon Alley, both to meet up with their parents and to get their school equipment. Ariadne has a brief side trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we start getting truly into Chamber of Secrets!

The rest of the week went by almost too quickly for Ariadne to believe a week had actually passed. They’d played Quidditch a number of times, Ariadne had beaten everyone in the house at wizards’ chess at least twice each. Ginny had been true to her word, and had kept to herself the information she’d learnt about Ariadne. She’d in fact been gently curious over the next few days, and the sisters had collaborated to better explain it - by the end of the week, Ginny was more informed than Ron had been, and had enthusiastically offered to braid Ariadne’s hair. Afraid the exercise might reveal her as the Girl Who Lived, Ariadne had politely declined. Hermione, however, sported a pair of small simple braids hanging from her fringe, just like Ginny liked to do with her own.

“Always the earlybirds, I see,” Molly said as she clomped down the stairs in her slippers, finding the Grangers both up. “Busy day today, I’ll get breakfast going. Oh what’s that you’ve got there?” she asked. The pair had been sitting on the sofa, each with an earbud and listening to  _ The Battle of Evermore _ . Ariadne paused the song after the line had finished;  _ the ring-wraiths ride in black _ .

“Oh, uh, thi-this is an MP3 player. Plays music,” she explained.

“Are there magic bands, Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked.

“There’s a few - I’m partial to some Celestina Warbeck myself. Her backing chorus are banshees, it’s amazing!” Molly said.

“She’s not going on about Warbeck again?” Fred called, coming downstairs. “You’d think she was the only singer in the world!” Molly huffed and went about setting herself up in the kitchen.

“What sort of music have you got on that?” Ron asked, also following.

“Uh, mostly David Bowie, bit of Led Zeppelin, why?” Ariadne replied. “It can’t fit much.”

“Just curious - what’s Bowie like?”

“Oh!” Ariadne exclaimed. She pulled the small plug of the headphones out and carefully made sure the magic wireless pieces were in her pocket. Finding the volume buttons, she turned it up and hit the ‘next’ button a few times. If memory served her correctly, that would be  _ Ziggy Stardust _ . The opening guitar riff confirmed as such, and the boys listened intently. They left it playing as they sat at the table, and as the song ended and was replaced by  _ Rebel Rebel _ , Arthur came downstairs.

“That’s not the Weird Sisters is it?” Arthur asked. “Doesn’t sound quite the same as their usual stuff.”

“Nah it’s some Muggle singer, David Bowie right?” Ron replied. “It’s not bad actually.”

“I hope he puts in more effort than the Sisters, they’re pretty cheesy.  _ Dance Like a Hippogriff _ , come on.”

“I-it depends. Sometimes he’s very poetic, other times it’s  _ The Laughing Gnome _ ,” Ariadne replied, laughing a little as Hermione tapped her knuckles to the beat.

“And what about that other one you said, Led Zep-leen?” Molly asked.

“Led Zeppelin,” Ariadne replied, pausing the music. “Um… have-have any of you read any of the Lord of the Rings?” She and Hermione had veritably torn through the books before watching  _ The Fellowship of the Ring,  _ with Hermione and Dennis describing what was happening - the movie had come out over the last Christmas holidays, and the girls were excited for  _ The Two Towers _ to come out over the next holidays.

“No, we haven’t. Is that a Muggle book?”

“Yes, it is. Some of the lyrics won’t make sense, but this is called  _ The Battle for Evermore _ ,” Ariadne said, navigating back to the song. She was interrupted by Molly making a noise, shortly before there was a loud THUNK behind her and she jumped.

“Oh, fetch it will you, Percy, please?” Molly said. Percy got up and made his way to the window before the glimmer of an owl jumped up onto the windowsill.

“Errol,” Percy said, leaning over to it.

“He’s always doing that,” Ron explained. Ariadne tilted her head.

“Is he old? His enchantments seem to be wearing off,” she asked. Percy walked over, opening an envelope.

“Oh look, it’s our Hogwarts letters. They’ve sent us the Grangers’ as well,” Percy announced, handing them around. Conveniently, Ariadne’s was written in the magic ink developed by Flitwick, and she could read it.

“Dumbledore must know you’re here, girls. Doesn’t miss a trick, that man,” Arthur said.

“Ohh, no,” Molly added.

“This lot won’t come cheap, Mum,” George said.

“The spell books alone are very expensive,” Fred added.

“We’ll manage,” Molly assured them.

“I- I can help with that,” Ariadne offered, turning her head to face Molly behind her.

“We- I’m sorry dear?”

“M-mm-my- I was adopted. My blood parents left me an inheritance, so if it’s a problem I can help pay for it?” she explained.

“Oh it’s quite all right dear, as I said we’ll manage.” Ariadne turned her attention - but not her head - down to the paper. She was surprised to see among the required textbooks  _ The Gallant Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart _ ,  _ Magical Me _ and a number of other Lockhart books.  _ Those _ would cost a lot. But for what subject they were for, she didn’t know -  _ Grindylow Grievances _ had hardly held much educational value, and from their own research a few spells used in its narrative appeared fictional. “Well, there’s only one place we’re gonna get all this. Diagon Alley,” Molly announced. “All right, once everyone’s done eating and ready, meet back down here! We want to be ready to go by eight!”

“Mrs. Weasley, aren’t we meant to be meeting up with our parents at eight?” Hermione asked.

“Oh don’t you worry about it. We’ll be on time.” As Hermione, who had finished eating, began to pack her things, Molly spoke up again. “Don’t worry about that either, we can pop straight back when we’re done shopping and have you off home.” Ariadne frowned. Hermione was right.

“Apparation?” Hermione sounded worried; if their previous experience was anything to go off, she didn’t want to use that.

“No, but something just as quick. Come on everyone!”

\--

After only half an hour at most, everyone found themselves dressed and ready to go - the Grangers making sure they each brought a backpack given just how many books were on the list - and standing around the living room. Molly lifted the pot full of a glowing substance off of its perch by the fireplace.

“Right. Here you are, Ariadne, you go first dear,” Molly said.

“But Ariadne’s never traveled by Floo powder before, Mum, neither has Hermione,” Ron said, as Ariadne ‘looked’ around, confused.

“Floo powder?” Ariadne asked. The name sounded familiar.

“Oh, well you go first, Ron, so the girls can see how it’s done. Yes,” Molly replied, as Ron stepped forward. “In you go.” Strangely, Ron strode directly into the - presumably unlit - fireplace before them. “That’s it.” He took a handful of the substance in the pot, which Ariadne assumed was the ‘Floo’ powder, before Molly took several steps back, ushering Percy and Fred back too. After a brief pause, Ron spoke.

“Diagon Alley!” he announced, before tossing the Floo powder down as Molly backed even further away. There was a roaring noise, as Ariadne jumped at the sudden appearance of orange and yellow flame all about the boy - his magic warped in horrifying ways, and shot up the chimney, vanishing.

“You see?” Molly said, stepping forward again. “It’s quite easy dear, don’t be afraid. Come on.” Arthur patted Ariadne on the back, gently pushing her forward. “In you go, that’s it, mind your head.” Ariadne bowed her head down as she carefully stepped into the uneven ground of the fireplace. “That’s right. Now, take your Floo powder.” Scared, Ariadne hesitantly took a handful of the offered substance in her left hand, trying to keep any from trickling onto the floor - she didn’t want whatever mechanism controlled this to activate prematurely. “That’s it, very good. Now don’t forget to speak  _ very  _ **_very_ ** clearly!” Molly said, pulling back again. If anything, that promised to be the hardest part. Ariadne took a deep breath.

“D-dd-dd--dia-diago-DiagonAlley!” she exclaimed, wincing at her stammer as she threw down the powder. A blur of orange and yellow light took her entire existence with a ceaseless roar, swirling around her in incomprehensible ways, almost as if a web had formed around her. No, not formed  _ around _ her, like she’d been chucked into it. It was like she was tumbling through a tunnel, without rhyme nor reason, before she was shunted out.

She slid to a stop over an unfamiliar stone floor, spluttering from disturbed ash as the roaring in her ears stopped but her eyes stung with dust. Bruised a bit, she sat up, casting her briefly overwhelmed magic sense about the room.

She immediately decided that she did not like this room. The magic here was nowhere she knew of in Diagon Alley, and Ron wasn’t there. It was strange, occasionally almost aggressively voidlike, and occasionally far too similar to what she had seen of Lord Voldemort. What looked like display cases stood all around her, with strange objects standing on cushions including what looked like a  _ hand _ . A gnarled, clawed hand. She stood quickly, probing around herself for things. In front of her seemed to be a rug she’d dislodged in her arrival. Maybe this was a shop in Diagon Alley? But again, it wasn’t somewhere she recognized. The place smelled of dust and decay, and she immediately set about finding an exit. It wasn’t hard, there was very clearly a door which led out into an alley. Much more along the lines of what an alley would be than Diagon was, but distinctly  _ not _ Diagon. There was less magic here, or at least the magic was duller. It did not lack for populace, however, as she began probing her way out - someone with purple and green magic walked directly in front of her, forcing her to stop as she almost clipped the person’s feet with her cane.

Suddenly, the person grabbed her by the collar.

“Not lost are you my dear?” Ariadne squeaked and tried to pull back - the person’s grip wasn’t very strong and she stumbled backward.

“I-I-I-I-I’m fine, t-th-th-th-thank you. I wa-was-was just-” she tried to move away, up a shallow staircase, but was met with far more people blocking her way. The person found her shoulder again as she backed into a wall, heart racing.

“Come with us. We’ll help you find your way back,” they said. Ariadne  _ did not _ like the tone, but at this point she was surrounded.

“No-no, I’ll j-”

“Ariadne?!” came a booming voice in the distance to her left. As the crowd parted suddenly, the massive figure of Rubeus Hagrid was revealed.

“Hagrid!” she called, probing her way hurriedly up the stairs.

“What do you think you’re doing down here?! Come on!” Hagrid exclaimed, taking her shoulder as she approached. After they were a ways away from the throng, Hagrid spoke again. “You’re a mess, Ariadne. Skulking around Knockturn Alley? Dodgy place. Don’t want no-one to see you there. People will think you’re up to no good.”

“I was lost, I- the Fl-Floo- the-th-th-”

“I think I know where this is going. Let me guess, that damned stammer of yours messed up ‘Diagon Alley’?” Hagrid cut her off.

“Y-yes, I- hang on. Wh-wh-what were y-you doing down there then?” Ariadne asked as they finally arrived on the thoroughfare that was Diagon.

“Me? Oh, I was, uh, I was looking for Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent,” Hagrid said. “They’re ruining all the school cabbages.” As they walked, Ariadne looked around for anyone she recognized - the Weasleys and her family would surely be looking for her. Eventually, she was rewarded with the familiar magic of Hermione, accompanied by Valerie.

“Ariadne! Hagrid!” Hermione exclaimed, out of breath. “Everyone’s been so worried!” Valerie made a noise at Ariadne’s sooty state and began beating ash off her clothes and out of her hair.

“Hello Hermione! Not to worry. Little ‘Adne here ran afoul of a stammer, ended up in Knockturn instead of Diagon. And you must be Mrs. Granger!” Hagrid exclaimed, presumably offering a hand to Valerie.

“Yes, I’m their mum. And given what I’ve heard, you could only be Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper?” Valerie replied. “Please, call me Valerie. I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Oh, these two haven’t been telling stories have they? Good to see they’re in good hands. You’ll be all right now then, Ariadne?” Hagrid replied. Ariadne nodded. “Right, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh, th-thank you! Bye!” Ariadne said.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Hagrid,” Valerie called, at which the man laughed.

“Oh it’s just Hagrid thanks!”

“All right then. Come on girls, I think Molly said she’d be in Flourish and Blotts, come on!” Valerie and Hermione lead Ariadne swiftly but considerately to the familiar shop. Arriving, Molly was partway through a queue in the strangely reorganized bookshop.

“Oh! Ariadne!” Molly exclaimed as she approached. “Thank goodness, we’d hoped you’d only gone one grate too far!” Ariadne smiled and was about to say hello to her dad, who had been talking to Arthur, before someone else in the store required attention.

“Ladies and gents, Mister Gilderoy Lockhart!” an elderly man announced.  _ Lockhart was here?! _ Everyone clapped as Molly gasped.

“Here he is!” Ariadne however, was disappointed by the man who strutted in from the back room. He was clearly a wizard, that much was clear, but his magic was… diminished was the closest word Ariadne could think of as she stopped clapping abruptly and frowned. Bits of it pulsed weakly as if damaged, and if it hadn’t been for the attention drawn to him, he’d barely have been noticeable to her.

“Mum fancies him,” Ron complained, earning a jovial tap from Molly.

“Make way there, please!” came a distressed cry from just behind her as she struggled to push into the crowd and make way for the wizard she could sense behind her. “Let me by madam, thank you,” the man said, carrying what looked like a magical camera. “Excuse me, little girl, this is for the Daily Prophet,” he said, pushing past Hermione before lowering himself and taking a photo - a strange green cone erupted forth from the device, capturing Lockhart within it, as well as what might have been the feet of one Draco Malfoy, standing at the second floor above him.

Once the man had taken a number of photos, Lockhart sat down.

“Now, ladies?” It seemed this was a signing event or something. Getting her parents attention, Ariadne told them how expensive their school books would be - they’d already been shocked by Hermione’s recount. The group elected to go to Gringotts so as to get out some money to pay for it all, as well as a bit extra in case it was more than the Weasleys could afford. They only had to buy one set of books for Hermione - Arthur and Molly had to buy five. However, as they returned to find Molly already out of Flourish and Blotts, Molly insisted that she could afford it.

Once all their books and gear had been acquired, Molly showed them to the  _ actual _ fireplace Ariadne should have ended up at. After making sure Ariadne could say “The Burrow” without stammering, they showed Dennis and Valerie the Floo system, got their bags and had the Grangers on their way home.

“Do you think we could get home connected to the Floo Network?” Hermione asked as they got into the car, parked in a side street from Charing Cross.

“I-I I don’t know if our fireplace is big enough for us to stand in,” Ariadne said.

“We’ll think about it, it certainly looks convenient. But we wouldn’t want Ariadne getting shunted off to god knows where because of a speech impediment,” Dennis replied. “Do you want us to look into speech therapy over the Christmas holidays, Ariadne?”

“Hmmmm, m-maybe. Hey Hermione, did Lockhart look… weird to you?” she asked.

“No, why?”

“He looked like his… his magic was broken? It’s hard to explain. I don’t think he’s a very powerful wizard, not at all like the books say,” she said, adjusting her feet that rested on her bag.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne would not be so dumb as to attempt to grab the evil-looking hand, ffs canon!Harry.  
> And so my attempts to reconcile changes and actually making sure the story HAPPENS begin. If I’d had Ariadne be in Flourish and Blotts when Lucius gave Ginny the diary, it’d fundamentally alter the story because she’d have been able to see it - and would know a bit more about it than canon!Harry would have. Much as I find such alterations entertaining and will be using them much more in future years ;) , I do need the story to happen.


	39. Second Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne has something to ask her parents, before leaving for her second year at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite thing about this bit of CoS (at least the movie): Harry literally suggests waiting by the car. For Molly and Arthur. THAT IS THE REASONABLE ACTION. But Ron immediately goes “LET’S FLY TO HOGWARTS” and for some reason Harry goes along with theft of a car and flying all the way to Scotland. Ron is TWELVE. Where did he learn to drive a flying car?!

“Oh hell!” Valerie exclaimed as they prepared to go. “We can’t just waltz into King’s Cross with a broomstick, we’ve got to wrap this!”

“Ah,” Ariadne said, eyes wide as she noticed the glowing broomstick behind her. In their rush to ensure everything was ready for their return to Hogwarts, they’d forgotten to hide the Nimbus 2000 which stood leant against the stairs.

“Dennis! Where’d you put that brown paper?! We forgot the Nimbus!” Valerie called.

“It’s in here, one sec!” Dennis replied from upstairs. A minute later, he bustled down the stairs with what sounded like the wrapping paper. “Got it!”

“Thanks!” The paper rustled violently as Valerie rolled it around it. “Ariadne, would you hold that for a second?” Ariadne nodded and let her mother guide her hand to the broom and grasped the required section of paper. The sellotape screeched out of its holder, and Ariadne felt the broom shake as Valerie started haphazardly taping it all in place. “Oh dear, the big end. Um, Dennis, Hermione, would you two start taking the trunks to the car? We don’t want to be late!”

“Sure. I’ve got this end,” Dennis said, collaborating with Hermione. Valerie wrapped yet more paper around the broom, continuing to pull it tight with tape. 

“Ugh. It’s a mess, you’ll have to just tear up the paper when you get there. But it’ll have to do,” she said, reluctantly. Dennis and Hermione came back in after putting Hermione’s trunk in the car. “Don’t worry about it Hermione, I’ll get it. You two’ve got everything?” Ariadne felt around for her backpack, found it, and put it on before picking up a larger bag. She nodded. “Wands in your pockets and everything?” Another nod. “All right, we’ll put this in the boot, let’s get going.”

As they drove, traffic frustrating their parents as they hurried to reach King’s Cross in time, Ariadne fiddled with her fingers. She shouldn’t have left this so late. She should have said something earlier, but if she didn’t do it now, she’d have to send a letter.

Problem was, she had no idea how to word it. She could never really say important things without a script; she just ended up muddling her vocabulary, stammering too much to be comprehensible. She’d have to keep it simple.

“Um- M-mum? Dad?” she said quietly, facing her lap.

“Yes dear?” Valerie asked. If her concerned tone was anything to go off, she’d already picked up on how anxious Ariadne was.

“I- uh- um… m-mmm-my-my-my-my v-voice has, um. Has star-started to brbrbrrbbreak.” Hermione’s gentle tapping of the paper surrounding the Nimbus 2000 stopped.

Silence.

“I was wondering why you’d been a bit quiet lately,” her mother replied. She sighed. “I suppose this all was going to happen eventually, I just hoped we’d have a bit more time.”

“We can talk to your GP over the weekend for you if you’d like?” Dennis said. Ariadne grimaced - her GP hadn’t been the most understanding of people, and had refused to call her Ariadne until her legal name had been changed. He  _ still _ called her a he. “Do you know if magic has anything to stop puberty? Any, I don’t know, potions, elixir thingies or whatever? Spells?” Ariadne raised her head a bit.

“M-mmm-m-Madam Pomphrey s-said she might be able to help,” Ariadne replied, chewing on her lip.

“Madam Pomphrey would be the school nurse?” Valerie asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh excellent. How about this, we’ll talk to the GP, and you can make an appointment to talk with this Madam Pomphrey lady? Might be best to go with magic anyway if you’re going to be at Hogwarts most of the year.” Ariadne nodded. She recalled there were forms to fill out near Pomphrey’s office, she would have to ask Hermione’s help with it.

“Do you just want to block what’s getting started? Or the whole shabang, hormones and all?” Dennis asked. Ariadne tilted her head, uncertainly. It was a big decision to make, particularly as stressed as she was in the car. “Don’t have to decide now, but if you might want to it’ll influence what we say to the doctor.” Ariadne hesitantly nodded. “Hormones?” She nodded again. “Okay, we’ll look into it for you.”

\--

“All right, the train leaves in half an hour. You can see which pillar it is, Ariadne? I can never remember which one,” Valerie asked.

“Yep!” Ariadne said. “It’s that one.” She pointed at the glimmering green barrier, continuing to use the front of the trolley as a makeshift cane.

“Better be quick, the broomstick’s coming undone,” Dennis said.

The Grangers said their goodbyes, their parents promising to write about what the GP said, and the girls passed through the wall into the familiar, magic-coated Platform 9 ¾. Just as it always had, the Hogwarts Express hissed with steam and smoke, a babble of magic children and some of their parents gathered around the train, saying final goodbyes and boarding. This was the earliest the Grangers had arrived for it, most times traffic had led to them being just on time. Ariadne dislodged her cane from her trolley, made sure one of the platform staff had taken her trunk to the luggage cart before leaving her trolley in the retrieval bay - noting with some displeasure that many students seemed to have discarded theirs randomly, making her have to use her cane more than usual for the platform. She and Hermione quickly went to a carriage and found an empty compartment in which to sit.

Concerningly, Ron, who had said in mail that he’d meet them on the train, had not arrived. And going off the sounds of the locomotive, they were going to be off soon.

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione asked.

“I-I-I was ab-b-bout to ask the same thing,” Ariadne replied. She opened the window and hung her head out of it to see if she could sense Ron’s magic anywhere. Nope. She leant back, shaking her head.

“Maybe he went and sat with the boys, or he just couldn’t find us?” The porters outside whistled, beginning to close the train doors. Then came the hurried voice of one Molly Weasley outside.

“Wait, wait!” She was clearly out of breath. “So sorry!” Ariadne leant back to the window, as Hermione leant to see past her. The colours of Ron vanished onto the carriage, quickly followed by Ginny. Sure enough, Ron shortly dashed by the door before doubling back, puffed.

“Ugh! Hey girls, hhhhhhh, Merlin!” he exclaimed, breathing heavily. “Had to go around one of those, uh, aeroplanes. Did I say that right? Yeah. Those things Muggles use.” He collapsed into the seat as Ginny followed him.

“Hey Ron! W-w-w-w--wwe’d wondered where you were,” Ariadne said. “Hi Ginny!”

\--

The train trip was largely uneventful - The trio reassured Ginny she’d be fine at Hogwarts, while she worried. After they changed into their uniforms, the train slid to a halt at the station, and the group disembarked.

Hearing Hagrid again, Ariadne pointed toward him.

“Y-you need to go follow him, Ginny, okay?” she said, as Hagrid called for first-years to gather around him. “We’ll see you soon!”

“Oh- okay! Thanks,” Ginny said, hesitantly moving away. As was usually the case during the holidays and their first year departure only a couple months before, the second-years embarked carriages pulled by the strange, allegedly invisible, glowing horses. They were joined in the carriage by Parvati.

“Hey Ariadne! Hermione,” she said. “Have a good summer?” Hermione hummed lightly as if to say yes.

“Yeah, it was my birthday over the holidays,” Ariadne said. “We had Ron over. I-uh, I-I’ve never had people over for my birthday before, it was fun.” She smiled, awkwardly, nodding to the boy.

“Oh, that’s nice, happy birthday! How come you never had people over before?”

“Uh-” Ariadne realized the hole she’d dug herself into. “N-never hh-had any friends.” She shrugged.

“Oh. I’m sorry, that sucks. Would… would you like to come sit with us at dinner? The girls, I mean,” Parvati asked. Ariadne hummed a note as she turned her head to Hermione, who sounded like she’d nodded. “Sorry if I’m dragging your friends away, Ron,” she laughed.

“It’s fine,” Ron said. “I can hang out with Seamus and the guys, you two get to know the other girls. Hell, I’ve been the one dragging you two from your friends”

“Thanks Ron,” Hermione said, quietly.

“What did you do over your holiday, Ron?” Parvati asked, curiously.

“Oh! Well, I went to Ariadne’s for her birthday, and then we had them come over too! Their parents are muggles, they’ve got such cool stuff! Their parents are… dentists, did I say that right?” Conversation picked up well as the carriage trundled along, and eventually they were walking into the Great Hall. Ariadne was glad to be back at Hogwarts, where she could usually almost see the entire ground. Ron split off to hang out with the guys, and Parvati lead the Grangers to the other side of the table.

“Hey Lavender, Sally-Anne!” Parvati exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you! I thought I’d bring Ariadne and Hermione over, apparently they’ve never actually had friends before so that’s why they were always keeping to themselves.” Ariadne looked down, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh that’s okay!” Sally-Anne replied, taking Ariadne’s shoulder and having the Grangers take seats between them. “How come you never had any friends, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“B-bb-bullies,” Ariadne said.

“Yes,” Hermione added. “They... bullied me for being, uh, autistic, and Ariadne for being blind. And some personal things they shouldn’t have found out.” Hermione had finally acquired a diagnosis over the holidays - the specialists had repeatedly dismissed her on the basis of her academic achievement, which frustrated her to no end.

“Autistic?” Lavender asked. “What does that mean?” Hermione started tapping her knuckles again.

“It’s a developmental thing. It varies from person to person, but in me it manifests as difficulty with social situations, hypersensitivity to certain textures, sounds, tastes, etcetera, occasional echolalia, stims and hyperfixations. I’m what they call “high functioning,” but I prefer to say “low support,” as in I don’t need  _ much  _ support with it.”

“Oh, is that why you keep doing things with your hands?” Parvati asked. Hermione abruptly stopped moving her hands.

“Uh- yes. It’s involuntary, it helps me regulate anxiety.”

“Oh!” Sally-Anne laughed lightly. “Then don’t stop doing it if it helps you!” It didn’t sound like she’d resumed it, however. Self-conscious, Ariadne presumed.

“And the bullies thought that was weird?” Lavender asked.

“Yes, I only got diagnosed over the summer. I was just the ‘weird kid’ during primary school. Annoyingly, the specialists kept saying I did too well in school, I just hyperfixate on school subjects a lot.” Hermione took a deep breath, as if she’d just run out. “What did you do over the summer, Lavender?”

“My family took a trip to Norway!” Lavender said, excitedly. “It’s  _ really _ cold up there. What about you?”

“I ha-had my birthday! We had Ron over, and then visited him for a bit,” Ariadne interjected.

“Ugh. You went to Norway, Ariadne had a birthday party and they visited Ron. You all had good holidays, I spent the middle of mine on my first period.  _ Not _ fun. You’ll see,” Sally-Anne lamented. It seemed Sally-Anne was the type to overshare. Ariadne laughed slightly.

“What’s so funny, Granger?”

“Uh. Um. I-I-I-I-I have a medical condition, means I won’t get mine,” she said, hurriedly. It wasn’t  _ technically _ a lie.

“Lucky,” Sally-Anne muttered.

“Well, no, it-it also means I’ll never be able to have kids even if-if-if I wanted to.”

With  _ that _ awkward topic dominating the atmosphere, Parvati quickly changed subjects just before the new first years arrived to be sorted. Ginny was glad to almost immediately have been sorted into Gryffindor, with the Sorting Hat loudly pondering just how many more Weasleys were on their way. As a final Luna Lovegood was sorted into Ravenclaw, Ariadne’s consciousness was sucked and pulled each way and that as food arrived, and they all dug into the feast.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice what *didn’t* happen? ;) Changes be happening already.  
> We shall see if we even meet everyone’s favourite Elf.  
> Thought I’d make explicit my Hermione being autistic, since I think I’ve mostly got her nailed down.


	40. Classes Resume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione’s first day as second-year students at Hogwarts begins with Herbology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been informed that not everyone’s favourite Elf is Dobby.  
> So we shall see if we even meet everyone except gay_squirtle’s favourite Elf later.

**Monday, 2nd of September, 2002**

Their first lesson of the term was Herbology. After being woken by the Hogwarts clock tower bell again at six in the morning, Ariadne had gone about her usual routine with only one hitch; she had briefly forgotten that they’d moved upstairs, and had almost walked right into the first years’ dorm after going to the bathroom. Now, she stood with her peers, gathered around the benches of Greenhouse Three. It smelled of soil and fertilizer, and Ariadne had decided she did not like Greenhouse Three.

Most of the walls were not  _ walls _ anymore, per se. Most were now overgrown with vines, moss and other plants, which had come as a shock when Ariadne had tried to steady herself on one of them. The leaves would brush against her in the magical absence of the greenhouse, and she recoiled every time a stray leaf brushed against her, afraid she might have walked into something. She was certain she’d heard that there was a massive vine growing up one wall and out of what was now a completely unclosable roof window.

Based on Ariadne’s understanding of how a greenhouse worked, a permanently open window defeated the entire  _ purpose  _ of a greenhouse. Perhaps this was why basic lessons were held there, since they were unlikely to require long-term plant maintenance but it was close enough to equipment for easy access.

Either that or Professor Sprout didn’t know what she was doing, but Ariadne was inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I wonder what we’re doing today,” Sally-Anne said. “We didn’t have to wear these last year.” They were all wearing slightly oversized brown coats over their robes and thick gloves, which hadn’t been required the year before; there had been no practical lessons the year before, only theory. Ariadne turned as she saw the colours of Professor Sprout enter the room.

“Morning everyone!” Sprout called, with few hearing her it seemed. She tapped on something ceramic with wood - a pot? “Good morning everyone!”

“Good morning Professor Sprout!” the whole class replied.

“Welcome to Greenhouse Three, second years! Now gather ‘round, everyone!” Ariadne hesitantly felt for the bench and made sure she stood closer to it. There wasn’t strictly much magic here, so she couldn’t tell where much was. “Today, we’re going to re-pot Mandrakes!” Sprout shuffled around a bit, possibly carrying something. “Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?” Ariadne’s hand shot up, just as, it seemed, Hermione’s had. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Mandrake or Mandr-” both Hermione and Ariadne began, in unison. They had both started quoting their herbology textbook,  _ Magiherbology For The Discerning Witch or Wizard _ . The class laughed, filling the room with a gentle hubbub as Ariadne’s cheeks went red.

“Oh!” Sprout spluttered. “Hermione, you go, you’re closer to me.”

“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state,” Hermione continued. “It’s also quite dangerous. The Mandrake’s cry is fatal to anyone who hears it.”

“Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor. No, twenty, you two have  _ both _ clearly done your homework,” Sprout said. “Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won’t kill you  _ yet _ . But, they could knock you out for several hours, which is why I have given each of you a pair of earmuffs for auditory protection.” Ariadne felt about for them, hand bumping against a pot as she did. Her hands eventually found the fuzzy things. “So could you please put them on, right away? Quickly!” Ariadne did as she was bid, hurriedly affixing the earmuffs and muffling the world around her. Sprout kept talking. “Flaps tight down! And watch me closely.” Ariadne could only just hear her, and wondered how she was supposed to “watch” this. “ _ Grasp _ your Mandrake firmly! You pull it sharply up out of the pot!” A screeching noise filled the room, filtering into her ears as little more than white noise as she clapped her hands over the earmuffs, cane whacking against the bench. The Mandrake had a dim magic to it, appropriately earthy and brown. “Got it! And…  _ now _ you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm.”

Neville’s magic faltered and he fell.

“Oh dear, leave him there for now, I’ll take care of it. Right, on we go! Plenty of pots to go around!” Sprout called. “Grasp your Mandrake!” Ariadne felt around for the above-ground stem of the Mandrake in one of two pots ahead of her. She didn’t know which pot it was in, but her left hand found it. She took hold of it in her gloved hand. “And pull it up!” Ariadne wrenched the Mandrake free as white noise assailed her earmuffs and dozens of dim, brown magicked Mandrakes were lifted into the air around her.

Hermione’s core was a bit wobbly, as if she were disgusted by the things around her. Ariadne remembered that the book Hermione had read her had described the Mandrake as a small, wooden, lumpen baby-like creature, so she ascribed her sister’s dislike to that.

Feeling for the other pot beside her, Ariadne gently made sure it was stable before dunking the squealing plant into it. With most of the other Mandrakes potted and no more magic visible, her only senses available to her were touch and smell, neither of which helped her find the provided soil easily. After a few moments, Hermione tapped her on the shoulder and guided her hand to the bag between them and she began piling soil over the Mandrake until she could no longer see its magic.

Neville got back up again just as Sprout reached him - it seemed he’d only fainted, not been knocked out by the Mandrake cries.

\--

“Not coming to lunch, Ariadne?” Lavender asked as she split off from the group heading to the Great Hall. She shook her head.

“N-nn-need to go see Madam Pomphrey,” she said.

“Oh, that’s right! I’ve got to go with her,” Hermione added. Ariadne waved with a prim smile as Hermione too split off.

“We’ll save you some seats!” Parvati called after them as they began slowly ascending the stairs to the high-up Hospital Wing.

“Did you bring some of your ink?” Hermione asked as they got near. Ariadne nodded.

“I-I always carry some,” she replied, patting her bag. She kept a vial in a pencil-holder slot, beside one of the old calligraphy pens her father had given her to use. Finding no more stairs meeting her cane, she knew they were now on the right floor and it was only a short walk to Madam Pomphrey’s office.

“There it is,” Hermione said, accelerating a small bit. Ariadne caught back up as Hermione knocked on the doorframe and poked her head in.

“Ah, Miss Granger! Oh, both of you! How can I help?” Madam Pomphrey called from her desk within.

“H-hh-hello Madam Pomphrey!” Ariadne said. “I umm- I w-wanted to make an apppp-p-a.. appointment, if that was okay?”

“Oh, of course young lady, of course. I presume this to regard the matter we discussed last term?” Pomphrey asked, ruffling through a pile of parchments. Ariadne nodded mutely, retrieving her pen from her bag. “No need for a form, I already know what it’s about. Now, I am unfortunately a small bit swamped for the next wee bit, start of term and all. How does Sunday the 15th sound? Not this weekend, the weekend after,” she said. Ariadne nodded again.

“I’ll have to skip Quidditch practice, but that sounds good,” Ariadne replied.

“Splendid. I’ll write up confirmation of your appointment and owl it to you soon. Unfortunately Professor Flitwick has yet to supply me with some magical ink for you. Thank you two for coming, it’s good to see you both,” Pomphrey scratched something onto parchment in front of her. “Now, you two really should go get some lunch, I’m sure you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet chapter.  
> Once again, some things that didn’t happen: Ron doesn’t fix his wand because it was never broken, Collin doesn’t accost Ariadne because she’s not known to be the Girl Who Lived (yet >:) ) and Ron never gets the Howler because the car was never stolen!


	41. Immobulus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne’s first Defence Against The Dark Arts class, while a shambles, gives an unexpected joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been really looking forward to this one, hence how quickly I got this out xD

Ariadne was unsure what to expect from her next lesson - Defence Against the Dark Arts with Gilderoy Lockhart. On one hand, she admired the man just as much as the other girls, but on the other, having seen how weak and focusless his magic was both at Diagon Alley and at dinner the night before, she wondered how much of Lockhart’s exploits had been mercilessly exaggerated for narrative value. She knew at least  _ some _ was; the Homorphus Charm, for one, was well documented as incapable of the feats he’d claimed to have achieved by its use in  _ Wanderings with Werewolves _ .

Most of his official achievements outside of his stories had been at best honorary, with frankly his most notable records being cosmetic. He’d even attempted to release a shampoo brand, before it was taken off the market for being entirely too dangerous to make.

But for now, Ariadne sat beside Hermione in the middle of the front row, a pot of magical ink in front of her and a sheet of parchment marked on its corners so she wouldn’t run onto the table by its side. The room was lined with magical paintings, one of which - the largest, prominent at the front - Hermione had noted was a painting of Lockhart painting himself. Due to the frequent use of the room, she could make out the desks and the front desk, as well as the staircase leading to Lockhart’s office.

The door clicked open and out stepped the muddy colours of Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. He slowly stepped to the edge of the landing.

“Let me introduce you to your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher; Me,” he said, smugly. “Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, third class,” he said, descending the stair. “Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five times winner... of  _ Witch Weekly _ ’s Most Charming Smile Award. But I don’t talk about that.”  _ Evidently _ , Ariadne thought,  _ you do _ . “I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him!” Lockhart laughed as Ariadne waited for something worthwhile to take notes of. “Now!” Lockhart exclaimed, swiping his wand out. The wand was far clearer to her than he was. “Be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind.” He tapped his wand against something on the desk, and Ariadne tensed up as whatever it was started to rattle. “You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room! Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here.” He swapped hands holding his wand. “I must ask you not to scream. It might  _ provoke them! _ ” Lockhart called, pulling what must have been a cloth off of a cage - or at least, Ariadne could see within, obscured by the bars, dozens of tiny points of chaotic, yellow and red magic, rattling about the cage with shrieking voices.

Seamus laughed.

“Cornish Pixies?” Seamus said, jovially.

“ _ Freshly caught _ Cornish Pixies!” Lockhart confirmed.  _ 02/09/02 _ \-  _ Cornish Pixies _ , Ariadne wrote at the top of her page as Seamus kept laughing. “Laugh if you will, Mister Finnegan, but pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters,” he said as the pixies continued their frantic shaking. “Let’s see what you make of them.”

Ariadne cast her face up, surprised, before the pixies burst from their cage, cheering and laughing as they exploded across the room. Hermione swept her books off the table as Ariadne dove to the floor, magic spots flying about the room unpredictably. 

“Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies!” Lockhart cried.

The chaos spread quickly, as the pixies began throwing books, ripping out pages, terrorizing students and vandalizing Lockhart’s paintings. Neville cried out as it seemed two pixies had him by the robe, pulling him up into the air. Many of their classmates had fled the room, soon nearly all but Ariadne, Hermione and Ron had left as Ariadne pulled herself over to the pair who had taken refuge by Lockhart’s desk after she’d grabbed one of Hermione’s books off the floor to shield her face.

There was a THUNK as the pixies dropped Neville onto what must have been a chandelier or something above, leaving him to hang in a way that reminded Ariadne far too much of her first flying lesson.

“Please, get me down!” Neville cried.

No longer able to harass as many students, as near all were gone, the pixies had begun to notice the trio huddled by the desk. One, it seemed had Hermione’s hair, as she and Ron flailed about, bashing the flying creatures with textbooks.

“Get off me!” Hermione exclaimed, flailing about a bit.

“Hold still!” Ariadne said, taking the book she had been shielding herself with and forcibly detaching the pixie from her sister with a solid WHUMP. Lockhart, who had been standing by the desk, was now also getting attention, and raised his wand.

“Pesky Pixie Pester No Me!” he exclaimed.  _ Wait, was that meant to be a spell? _ Ariadne thought as she fended off another pixie. His wand pulsed, but nothing happened. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. What did happen was he drew attention to his wand by waving it, and it was promptly removed from his grasp by another pixie which flitted up to the roof. The pixie flailed it, as a shower of sparks flew from its tip and  _ something _ began to fall.

Something crashed onto the ground near the entrance door, and Ariadne fell to the ground in fear, hoping nothing dangerous was above  _ her _ , not to mention that Neville wouldn’t be dropped from his own hanging point. Lockhart, meanwhile immediately ran for his office, trying to pull a painting the creatures had grabbed off the wall from their grasp, before giving up.

“I’ll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage!” he called in what could never have been described as a confident tone, before slamming the door to his office behind him. Now the sole sources of entertainment in the classroom, the trio were set to the full attention of the pixies.

“What do we do now?!” Ron exclaimed as Ariadne batted another pair of pixies off her robes. Hermione stood, pulling her wand out and pointing it into the air.

“ _ Immobulus! _ ” she yelled, before a glistening wave of blue magic exploded forth from her wand as Ariadne flinched. Every single pixie stopped moving, floating in mid-air as if frozen. This was not, however what gained Ariadne’s attention.

She gasped.

Because what did gain her attention, was that she had seen the  _ entire _ room. For but a few seconds, the entire room was illuminated by the wave; every detail on the columns above, every piece of the simple chandelier. The entire staircase behind her and the desk she half-stood in front of.

And the face of her sister, wavy hair cascading down her shoulders, standing, poised, with her wand in the air. Ron, half-stood beside her, his hair shorter around his ears at its longest.

Her own arms, holding a book she could see.

Hermione tucked her wand back into her robes, her magic taking on a sense of pride.

“Why is it always me?” Neville lamented as he hung.

Ariadne stood, spinning on the spot as it faded, her mouth hanging open as Ron pulled a handful of pixies out of the air and swung them back into their cage, before he stopped.

“What is it, Ariadne?” he asked.

“I-IIII-I… I could… I could see everything,” she murmured. “H-Hermione co-could you- could you do that again?”

“Cast the- oh my god.  _ Immobulus _ ,” she said, releasing yet another wave. Ariadne almost screamed in joy as she ran her hands along the desk. It was a strange sight, as if the shadows of her own, Ron’s and Hermione’s bodies had been permanently cast, but it was enthralling as the entire shape of the room glowed a faint blue. She pointed at Hermione’s nose, which for the first time in her life, she could ‘see,’ facing her.

“I can see your face!” she exclaimed. “And yours!” She pointed over her shoulder, backward toward Neville. “And yours!” At Ron, moments before it faded entirely.

Once she’d gotten over her momentary excitement, she set about grabbing pixies and putting them back in the cage. Every now and then, Hermione had to re-cast the  _ Immobulus _ spell, each time bringing Ariadne new angles of the room. Neville was retrieved after Lockhart finally re-entered the room, and reminded, Ariadne poked Hermione’s sleeve once they’d left.

“Have you ever heard of that spell Lockhart tried to cast? It didn’t do anything,” she said.

“No, I haven’t. It sounded more like a sentence, like that spell Ron tried to cast on his rat last year on the train,” Hermione replied.

“Yeah, pesky pixies something or other. Curious.”

Ariadne spent the rest of the evening unable to concentrate on the book Hermione was reading to her and in extension to the rest of the dorm - the girls had long gotten used to this, and Sally-Anne sometimes joined in. Lavender, however, didn’t appreciate it. Ariadne was thinking about the spell Hermione had been casting.  _ Immobulus _ was a radial spell, with the wand-point as its focus point. And to her, a side effect was an almost RADAR-like imprint upon the world around the caster.

She made a note to ask Professor Flitwick about similar spells after Charms the next day. She couldn’t go around casting  _ Immobulus _ on classes of students, but if there was anything that did something similar, she wanted to know.

If there was such a spell, it would be more than useful.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important note: the idea of a RADAR spell is not intended to “cure” Ariadne’s blindness - she would still, for example, be unable to see through windows, see images, etc, and would be entirely dependent on the magic for the effect. Without her wand, she can’t use it. A comment reminded me while I was writing this, so I want to make clear that I’m never going to actually try to “cure” Ariadne’s blindness, only give her magical disability aids, for a number of reasons both in-universe and out.


	42. A Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne brings her questions to Professor Flitwick, and is excited by the unexpected answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into some things I’ve had planned for a good few months now, mwahahahahah

“Repeat after me:  _ Finite Incantatem _ !” Flitwick called, before the class filled with the repetition of the incantation. Ariadne flicked her wand at the block in front of her - each student had been given an enchanted block, set to glow.

“ _ Finite Incantatem _ ,” she said, before a short beam of silver magic struck out at the block and it ceased to be visible to her. Many other students didn’t seem to have it down yet, with many a block remaining stubbornly alight.

The twelve o’clock bell tolled outside, at which a dozen or more students hurriedly stood, gathering their bags.

“Now, don’t forget to practice your counter-spells! Remember,  _ Finite Incantatem _ ! Refer back to Chapter Ten of your textbooks, page ninety-seven!” Professor Flitwick called over the babble of the packing class at the end of first period’s Charms lesson. Ariadne gratefully packed away the sheets of parchment she’d been given at the start of class, upon which Flitwick had diligently transcribed the entire relevant chapter of  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _ by Miranda Goshawk in magical ink, as well as her own notes for the day. Her handwriting had been improving dramatically since the last Christmas, and she was glad to no longer suffer hand and wrist cramps as much from it.

Stoppering her ink vial and slotting it into her bag and drying off the pen on a piece of tissue, Ariadne stood and swung her bag up onto her shoulder.

“I-I’ve got to talk to Professor Flitwick, see you in a bit,” she said to Hermione, setting about probing the book-littered course to the small Professor. 

“Okay, see you ‘Adne!” Hermione replied, following Ron.

“P-Professor? Could I have a mm-moment?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course. How can I help?” Flitwick asked.

“Umm- I had an idea, thought you might know something. You know the  _ immobulus _ charm?” she asked.

“Of course, yes. We’ll be covering it in a few weeks, so I hear your sister has demonstrated its use in Gilderoy’s Defence class.” Flitwick sounded almost disdainful when he mentioned the author.

“I-I noticed it had a-a-a… a secondary effect, I guess? The wave clung to surfaces, I could see everything!” Ariadne said, excitement entering her voice. “I uh, I was wondering if you knew of a spell I could use that does that too, just, uh, not one that freezes things.” Flitwick put a stack of papers aside.

“Hmmmm…” Flitwick was quiet for a moment. “There aren’t many spells with the radial effect you describe, let alone ones that don’t have very specific uses;  _ Homenum Revelio _ is a wave,  _ Protego _ is technically a radial but almost never used as such. Many spells also have a radial modifier, but they’re not commonly used. My apologies, Miss Granger.”

“Oh,” Ariadne said, hanging her head a little. “Thank you, Professor,” she said quietly, before turning. Flitwick, however wasn’t done.

“However,” he said. “I do recall seeing yourself and your sister reading  _ Magical Formula for the Aspiring Spellweaver _ last year, correct?” Ariadne nodded. “Not a book most students, er, read. Consider the content of it.” Ariadne thought for a moment.  _ Magical Formula  _ was a book about the actual mechanics of spells, the mathematics and physics involved, and certainly well above their level to tell the truth. Having listened to Hermione read it twice, she recalled it also covered how one made one’s own spells, although with little detail.

“The-the-the design of spells, sir?”

“Correct. Well, we have a concept, yes? That’s the first step toward a new spell, is it not?” Ariadne blinked.

“You-you mean I should make my own spell?!” The suggestion was exciting, but not something she thought herself capable of yet.

“Well, not on your own of course. I’d handle the vast majority, but I daresay this would be the sort of educational opportunity yourself and Hermione could never bring yourselves to pass up, hmm?” Ariadne laughed. “Some homework for you then. I want you, and Hermione should she be interested, to draft up a brief. What the spell needs to do, how it must behave, etcetera. Oh, and an incantation you want it to use. Bring it to me after Thursday’s Charms lesson, and we’ll get started.” Ariadne bounced on the spot, nodding.

“I will! Thanks Professor!” she exclaimed, before quickly probing her way from the room.

\--

“Hermione!” Ariadne called as soon as she’d got near the table for lunch. “Flitwick’s going to make a spell for me, to do what happened yesterday!”

“He’s going to what?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“He’s going to make me a spell that does that wave thing!  _ And _ he wants us to help!” Ariadne took out some spare parchment. “He wants us to write up a brief, to give him on Thursday after class.” Hermione hummed through a mouthful.

“Hmm! Do you want to do that now?”

“Uh,” Ariadne sat down, pointing. “Need to eat,” she chuckled. She could almost  _ see _ the enthusiasm in Hermione’s magic, and having gotten closer, could hear her flapping her hands in the air.

“Right. After Potions?”

“Sure!” Ariadne replied. “He said it was a ‘learning opportunity,’ so I think he’s going to effectively t-teach us how to make our own spells!” Hermione gasped.

“I didn’t even think of that! I…” Hermione trailed off. “I should get some books out on magical mechanics...”

“Bloody hell you’re into that,” Ron said, nudging over. “So Flitwick’s going to help you see?”

“N-nn-not see, just… have you ever heard of RADAR?” Ariadne replied.

“Nope.”

“Okay, so it’s thiss-this thing non-magical people made to tell when planes are coming; it sends out this pulse of sound, sound we can’t hear, but that will bounce back off of anything in the air. It comes back, and then the RADAR knows where the plane is,” Ariadne explained. “Some planes are even designed to not send it back, stealth planes, it’s interesting. What I’m thinking is the spell should send out a pulse of magic just just kinda clings to everything; that way I could sense everything.”

“Yes. Perhaps it should fade? Just not as quickly, otherwise it might build up and give you a headache or something,” Hermione added.

\--

By the time Potions was over and Snape had already reprimanded the pair for talking in class - a rare transgression for the Grangers, something Snape had delighted in before turning his attention back to Neville - there was little left for the pair to do but write down their wealth of ideas.

Eventually, in Ariadne’s neat handwriting, sat a draft brief of the spell. They’d formatted it based on some of the descriptions in  _ Magical Theory for the Aspiring Spellweaver _ , and chosen the name as a latin spin on the word Aura. Additionally, Hermione had had the idea of combining two spell ideas into one; one function to illuminate a specific object, and one to cast the wave;  _ Aurum _ and  _ Aurum Radia _ respectively.

> **_Aurum:_ **
> 
> _ Should produce a magical aura on an object or part of an object, as specified after the incantation (Aurum [Subject]), invisible to the eye. This aura should not effect the subject in any way other than imbuing it with a low-level magic, sufficient for Ariadne’s magic vision. _
> 
> **_Modifier: Radia (Use: Aurum Radia)_ **
> 
> _ Takes the place of the subject of the incantation. Instead of imbuing an object with a magical aura, the aura should instead be projected outward from the wand in a spherical array. When the aura impacts a solid surface, it should adhere to it. This effect should fade after a minute’s time, in order to prevent buildup due to repeated use. This also should have no effect on the subject, nor be visible to the eye, in any other way than imbuing the surface with a magic aura visible to Ariadne’s magic vision _ .
> 
> All that was left was to bring it to Flitwick on Thursday.

\--

“Oh this is very well done, perfect notation on the modifier,” Flitwick said, after reading the brief. “It’s good that you’ve altered the idea after having time to think it over, this should be even more useful than your original concept.”

“So this is good?” Ariadne asked.

“It is. Now.” Flitwick took out what sounded like a number of books and a stack of parchment. He dipped a quill in a pot of magical ink, and began writing. “We must first outline the architecture of the spell; what segments control what, and what procedures are run.” The Professor began setting out a diagram, intertwining functions to incantations. It was not unlike what little Ariadne knew of computer code, she found, and the girls quickly took to what Flitwick was explaining. This was, however, only an outline. The actual spell would take time and work to produce, as well as testing. The outline was relatively complex for what had sounded like such a simple spell, and Flitwick had taken their suggestions well.

“Shall we continue this next week? Thursdays after Charms, a little spell-making workshop,” Flitwick suggested, to which Ariadne nodded and made a note of in her notebook - a notebook now quickly filling with magical theory. “I also might recommend you learn a few spells using their radial modifiers to help with this.” Flitwick gave her a list of spells, including the destructive  _ bombarda radia _ . “Oh, er, don’t use that one inside. On the field only, please, preferably with the supervision of Hagrid.” 

All of which, Ariadne wrote down. She was determined not to miss any of this work. “ _ Magical Theory for the Aspiring Spellweaver _ ” indeed.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Severus Snape was able to make spells during his sixth year, then Ariadne and Hermione Granger absolutely can by then. This will just give them… some extra understanding even earlier.


	43. Eat Slugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Quidditch practice of the year gets off to an interesting start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh.. apparently this is the fourth most read fic under the MTF Harry Potter tag. First is ‘Magical Metamorphosis’ which got me into transgirl!Harry content, second is ‘Raven’s Colours’ which inspired this. Holy shit, thanks so much! I didn’t expect this to even really get off the ground, but I’m guessing y’all are liking this.  
> *eyes ‘Of Gold and Glitter’ by Quirkyasfok* I’m coming for your bronze medal, Quirky. /s  
> go read those ones too, they’re good

**Sunday, 8th of September**

Ariadne strapped on her armguards and hurriedly grabbed her cane and broomstick. Ron and Hermione were already downstairs, so she was told, Hermione studying in the courtyard and Ron probably not understanding a word of it. They were going to come with and watch the Gryffindors train, to show Ariadne some support. She was glad of it, but she had to admit she wished they hadn’t left early. Regardless, she shuffled carefully down the dorm stairs and down to the Common Room.

From today on, Quidditch practice was twice a week - Wednesdays and Sundays. Wednesday was fine, she didn’t have anything after classes, but next Sunday was taken up by her appointment with Pomphrey - at least, part of it. If she was done with Pomphrey early enough, she’d make her way over. The common room was bustling with students on their off time - some studying, most not. She was normally a bit concerned by how little actual work took place in the Gryffindor Common Room, but at least it was only early in the term.

“Hey Ariadne!” Ginny called as she walked by. Ariadne waved back as best she could with her hands full, not facing her but smiling nonetheless. The halls weren’t exactly full of people, it seemed most were more interested in resting after a full first week. She was happy to have the walk to herself for the most part, she felt watched enough with the sentient paintings adorning every wall. It wasn’t long before she’d finally reached the courtyard where Ron and Hermione were waiting, and ‘saw’ most of the team gathered in the wings. She made her way over to the team as quickly as she could.

“Ah, Ariadne! Just waiting on Alicia now,” Wood called. “Have a good summer?” Ariadne nodded.

“Ha-ah-had my birthday! You?” she replied.

“Oh not too bad. You look like you’ve got something on your mind?”

“Uh, I-um -I won’t be at training next week. Appointment with Madam Pomphrey, sorry,” Ariadne recited, having planned exactly what to say already.

“No problem, don’t worry about it. Ah! Alicia, there you are. All right, let’s be off eh?” Wood said, standing and beginning to lead them away. “I’ve spent the summer devising a whole new Quidditch program. We’re gonna train earlier, harder, and longer.” Ariadne saw the glimmer of another group in the courtyard - headed by Marcus Flint. It appeared the Slytherin team were there too, with one distinct difference. Draco Malfoy had taken the place of Terrence Higgs, their Seeker. They too were all carrying brooms, all of which identical to her own. “What?! I don’t believe it,” he spat. “Where do you think you’re going, Flint?” he called as they crossed over onto the green.

“Quidditch practice,” Flint replied, nonchalantly.

“I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.”

“Easy Wood, I’ve got a note.” The smug-sounding Flint handed Wood something. Ron said something and he and Hermione jogged over.

“ _ I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker _ ,” Wood recited. “You’ve got a new Seeker, who?” As the Slytherin team parted, Ariadne was there first.

“Dr-d-Draco Malfoy.” Indeed, Malfoy stood forward.

“That’s right,” Draco replied, just as smug, if not more, as Flint. “And that’s not all that’s new this year.”

“Y-y-yes, I noticed your new brooms. Nimbus 2000s?”

“Those are Nimbus 2001s!” Ron exclaimed. “How did you get those?”

“A gift from Draco’s father,” Flint replied.

“You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford  _ the best _ ,” Draco added. Ariadne scoffed.

“Th-they-they-they’re actually identical to the 2000 model. But I’m sure they’ve got a  _ nice shiny finish _ ,” Ariadne said, as Hermione too piped up.

“At least no-one on the Gryffindor team had to  _ buy _ their way in. They got in on pure talent,” Hermione huffed. Malfoy stepped toward Hermione.

“No-one asked for your opinion,” Malfoy said.  _ Nor yours _ , Ariadne thought. “You filthy little Mudblood.”

In a flash, Ariadne had her wand on the boy as Ron’s magic leapt into activity while Hermione’s spiked. Ariadne knew the slur didn’t technically apply to herself, but she was the only one who knew that. And nobody spoke to Hermione like that.

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy,” Ron growled, pulling his own wand slowly from his robes. “Eat slugs!” he yelled, as a sickening green beam struck out at Malfoy’s torso, blowing him back onto the grass. The Twins erupted into laughter for only a second before-

“WEASLEY!” The voice of Severus Snape flew across the courtyard as he swept over. Ariadne hurriedly shoved her wand back into her pocket. “Fifty points from Gryffindor, and detention to Mister Weasley.” Snape coiled over Malfoy as the boy vomited something up - Ariadne stifled a laugh. Eat slugs indeed. The professor hauled Draco back to his feet as another slug came up. “To the Hospital Wing, Mister Malfoy,” Snape drawled, conjuring a bucket for Malfoy’s slugs to be ejected into with a wave of blue magic.

There was a stunned pause before Wood spoke.

“Well then. Owing to the need to train your new Seeker another day, we’ll be taking the pitch. Good day, Flint.” As the Slytherin team left dejectedly and Wood kept going, he turned to Ron as he walked. “That was immature, Weasley. You two need to set a better example. But I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, calling Hermione that.”

“It’s disgusting!” Ron exclaimed as Hermione walked in sullen silence.

“It’s bullshit, is what it is,” Fred said. “There’s not a witch or wizard  _ alive _ who’s not quarter-blood or less.”

“You remember what Lucius Malfoy said to Dad? ‘ Bloody pieces of work they are. Nasty even for Slytherin, that lot,” George added.

“Lucius Malfoy?” Ariadne asked.

“Draco’s father, came in to Flourish and Blotts after you’d gone to Gringotts. Called Dad a disgrace to wizards for working at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office and for ‘associating with Muggles’,” Fred explained, putting on a voice. If that was Fred’s imitation, Ariadne had no intention of meeting the Malfoy patriarch, he sounded unpleasant to say the least - particularly if he was where Draco was getting his blood purism. “People like that are exactly what  _ we _ try to distance ourselves from; if anyone’s giving ‘pure-bloods’ a bad name, it’s the Malfoys.”

\--

“We need to play more aggressively,” Wood said as they stood on the pitch. “Figuratively and literally. Especially now Slytherin have faster brooms - Ariadne here may have a Nimbus, but the rest of us don’t. ‘Adne, how well can you survey the field for the Snitch while moving?”

“Uh… It’d take some extra concentration, but I could do it,” Ariadne replied.

“Good. I’ve spoken to Madam Hooch, the Quaffle’s going to be marked with magic for you to sense from now on. While non-Beaters taking their bats is illegal, as Slytherin learned the hard way last year, it’s not illegal for non-Chasers to have the Quaffle. If the opposition has the Quaffle and you’re not actively doing something else, try get it off them, even you Ariadne.” She nodded.

“This’ll be fun,” George chortled.

“Now. Johnson, Spinnett, Bell, let’s have you three run laps between the hoops, a drill for the Twins and Ariadne to try get the Quaffle off you.” Wood opened the chest and threw the Quaffle to Angelina. Painted on each hemisphere of the ball were a series of magic Xes, which gave Ariadne a good idea of where it was. Without further ado, the team all mounted up and took their positions. The Chasers held an arrowhead formation on one side, and the others in a wide triangle. Wood hovered near the middle, watching. “Go!” Wood bellowed. Ariadne thundered toward Alicia, who had just been passed the Quaffle as the Chasers dived low and to her right. However, she was immediately avoided and span back around, thinking. Fred and George pincered them, and George was at least three feet below the Quaffle when it was popped out of Katie’s arms with a wooden  _ thwack _ . He’d used his bat to knock it, Ariadne realized as Fred scooped it out of the air triumphantly.

The team ran through the routine a number of times, every time the Chasers using a different route and strategy. But after a few hours of attempts and feedback, it seemed Wood was satisfied with their performance. Even Ariadne had managed it once, punching it out of Angelina’s arm where it had been tucked, accidentally linking arms with her and almost spinning the Chaser into the stand where Ron and Hermione were cheering her on because of the sudden centrifugal forces.

By the time Ariadne had tiredly dawdled up to Gryffindor Tower with her peers, it was running close to dinner time and the sun had long since fallen - they’d been training damn near the entire day, and she was simultaneously perhaps sweatier than she’d ever been and in dire need of a shower, yet also shivering in the relatively light Quidditch gear. The warm shower was a welcome change, and she eagerly wrapped the heavier cloak around herself before heading down to dinner.

“Signing fan mail?! With  _ Lockhart _ ?!” Ron exclaimed, after he was told what he’d be doing for detention the next day after hexing Malfoy. “Kill me now.”

“And deprive you of your time with Gilderoy Lockhart? Never,” Ariadne replied sarcastically before smiling at him and taking a sip of juice.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I’d have the Nimbus 2001 be technically no better than the 2000 - canon!Harry is able to catch up with and even overtake Malfoy on his 2001. Another thing that setting it in the 2000s gives some information to; the 2000 is the model from 2000, and the 2001 from 2001.


	44. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrieving Ron from detention, new developments change matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again.

**Monday, 9th of September**

“I’m enjoying Herbology practicals so far,” Hermione said as she cut something on her plate. “I thought I wouldn’t, but at least the gloves mean we don’t get dirt all over our hands.” She made a shuddering noise. “Not a fan of Leaping Toadstools though.” Ariadne took a sip of her juice.

“Yeah, they’re annoying,” Parvati replied as the clock tower bell rang - eight o’clock.

“We-we-w-we-w-we’d better go and get Ron,” Ariadne said, taking a final bite of her dinner before setting her fork down.

“Yes, we should,” Hermione replied, standing. “See you in the Common Room, guys.” Since Ron had been assigned detention with Lockhart, she presumed he’d be in his office - at the Defence classroom. Last year’s one had been on the first floor, due to the current - and usual - one having been part of the off-limits wing of the Third Floor. She wasn’t a fan of the extra staircases.

“I wonder how Ronald’s enjoying his time. Answering fan mail, it’s hardly detention,” Hermione said as they slowly climbed.

“From the sound of it, I think he’s just signing stuff. Wait, isn’t that forgery?” Ariadne realized. “Doesn’t that mean Ron knows how to forge Lockhart’s signature?”

“I’m sure he uses a different signature for official business. His signature’s on half the books he’s sold, he wouldn’t be so stupid to give everyone his signature.”

“A-a-are-are we sure? We’ve only had him twice and he’s been abysmal both...” Ariadne trailed off as something caught her ears.

“ _ Come... come to me…” _ whispered a voice.

“...Times. Did you hear that?”

“Did I hear what?” Hermione asked, stopping.

“That voice,” Ariadne replied, frowning.

“I didn’t hear a voice.” They started moving again, rounding the corner to a long corridor where Ron’s signature colours where coming along.

“There you are!” Ron called. “Blimey Lockhart’s full of himself.” Ariadne was glad to ‘see’ him, but was distracted by the re-emergence of the voice. And she did not like its tone.

“ _ Blood… I smell blood _ …” She inhaled sharply, spinning on the spot and trying to tell where it was coming from.

“What’s wrong, Ariadne?”

“Th-th-that voice again - can’t you hear it?! I heard it on the way here first, and then again just now.” Ariadne said. “It… It said it smells blood.”

“I don’t hear anything. Do you, Ron?” Hermione asked.

“No, nothing. Come on, let’s-” Ron replied, before being cut off by Ariadne gasping and moving to the wall as the voice returned once more.

“ _ Let me rip you… _ ”

“Let me rip you…” she recited, trying to follow it.

“ _ Let me kill you… _ ” She repeated that too under her breath as she followed carefully, leaning on the wall. “ _ Kill!  _ **_Kill! KILL!_ ** ” it roared in her ear, as if right beside her, accompanied by a rumble.

“It’s moving!” Ariadne exclaimed as her peers followed, bewildered.

“What are you talking about?!” Ron called.

“ _ It’s time… _ ”

“I think it’s going to kill!” Ariadne cried, frantically probing her way as she followed the slight rumble toward the wider main corridor.

She almost slipped over as her feet met wet tile and her arms flailed for balance.

“Eurgh, the floor’s all wet!” Hermione cringed. Ariadne’s attention was elsewhere. The corridor was relatively dim for a place in Hogwarts, owing to its disuse the previous year, but one thing glimmered well.

Mrs. Norris, on the wall to her right. But something was very wrong with the cat - its magic was dim, as usual, but… caged. She started walking purposefully, trying not to trip.

“It’s Filch’s cat!” she called, doing her best to approach quickly as Hermione and Ron stopped in their tracks, gasping. “But something’s wrong, she’s… stuck.”

“Ariadne… there’s writing on the wall,” Ron said, wavering. Ariadne stopped, turning to him.

“ _ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir... beware _ ,” Hermione read. “It’s written in blood.” Ariadne took a horrified step back toward her friends as other blobs of colour began filling into the hallway from both sides - with the Third Floor open again, it was the most direct route to most of the dormitories. Voices began whispering as Ariadne took a tiny step back toward Hermione and some gasped.

“Enemies of the Heir beware?” Malfoy called, from the head of the column to her left. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” Ariadne did her best to glare at the boy for that.

“What’s going on here?!” Argus Filch called harshly from the other column. “Go on, make way make way,” he said as he pushed through the crowd, his form mostly grey with flecks of red and blue. “Granger? What are you… Mrs. Norris?”

“Sh-she-she’s not dead, I can still see her. I don’t know what’s wrong with-” Ariadne stammered, before Filch cut her off.

“You’ve murdered my cat,” Filch snarled.

“N-nonono, no, she’s not- I don’t-”

“I’ll kill you.” Ariadne backed away before Filch grabbed her by the collar, pulling her back. “I’ll kill you!” he shouted.

“Argus!” Albus Dumbledore called, from behind Malfoy’s column. “Argus, I… Everyone will proceed to their dormitories immediately.” Ariadne, who’d been released by the caretaker, immediately began to probe her way toward Madam Pomphrey and her column, toward Gryffindor Tower. “Everyone except… you three.” Ariadne kept walking for a moment, before realizing Ron and Hermione had stopped behind her. Dumbledore must have meant them. She stopped, and turned to face the Headmaster. Lockhart swooped over to Mrs. Norris, seeming to be looking her over.

“She’s not dead, Argus. She has been Petrified,” Dumbledore said. Ariadne frowned. This was nothing like the shell that had surrounded Neville last term.

“Ah! Thought so,” Lockhart immediately said. “So unlucky I wasn’t there. I know exactly the countercurse that could have spared her.”

“N-nnn-no. It’s not a spell, at-t-t-tat least not  _ petrificus _ . Doesn’t look the same to me,  _ petrificus totalus _ looks like a shell. This is… a cage,” Ariadne said.

“In that case, how she has been Petrified, I cannot say,” Dumbledore said.

“Ask her!” Filch growled. “It’s her that’s done it! You saw what she wrote on the wall!” Assuming he was talking about her, Ariadne stepped forward.

“Mister Filch, Hermione says that what’s written on the wall is written on-in blood. I  _ can’t see blood _ ,” Ariadne said, slowly, pointing to her left. Ron nudged her.

“Wrong wall,” he whispered. Ariadne switched direction before lowering her hand.

“I didn’t even know what wall it was on,” she added, hurriedly.

“If I might, Headmaster. Perhaps the Grangers and their friend were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sisters I believe must have been retrieving Mister Weasley here from detention with Professor Lockhart,” Snape said, curling out from behind Dumbledore.

“Yes Professor,” Hermione said. “We were heading back to the Common Room when we found… this.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Argus,” Dumbledore said.

“My cat has been Petrified,” Argus said, his voice wobbling. Even for an almost entirely non-magical person, Ariadne could see the stress in him. “I want to see some punishment!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus. As I understand it, Professor Sprout has a very healthy growth of Mandrake. When matured, a potion will be made which will revive Mrs. Norris,” Dumbledore told him, gently. “In the meantime, I strongly recommend caution. To all.” With that, the trio were sent back to the dorm. As they made their way up one of the final staircases, Hermione spoke up.

“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” Hermione stopped.

“Strange?” Ariadne asked.

“You hear this voice, a voice only you can hear, and then Mrs. Norris turns up Petrified by something other than a Petrification spell. It’s just strange.”

“Do-do-do-do you think I should have told them?” Ariadne asked. “Dumbledore and the others?”

“Are you mad?!” Ron replied.

“No. Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn’t a good sign.” Hermione turned and kept moving upstairs as Ariadne sighed and nodded. She was just about to keep moving before a voice right beside her made her jump out of her skin.

“She’s right, you know.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, magic vision makes some changes.


	45. The Heir of Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transfiguration takes an interesting turn, in light of recent events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Correction to the other chapter’s note; we’re the third most read now! Mwahahahahaha! Recent chapters have been a wee bit shorter than usual, just because I’m working off the movie and that’s the structure of the movie.

Tuesday’s Transfiguration lesson had had an interesting suggestion - those with small non-owl pets may bring them into class. It was the second time Ariadne had seen the orange and green magic that belonged to the rat. A confusing set of colours - no other magical creature she’d seen had looked like him, he looked like a tiny person, not the pets other students had, nor the lizards McGonagall had given out. Ariadne sat, tilting her head at the creature beside her before McGonagall stood and spoke up, beginning the lesson.

“Right. Now, today, we will be transforming animals into water-goblets,” she said over the silent class. “Like so.” McGonagall pointed her wand at the very faintly magical bird perched beside her. “One, two three,  _ Vera Verto _ ,” she incanted, bobbing her wand. A jet of yellow magic spread over it, molding the now illuminated animal into what Ariadne presumed was what a water-goblet would look like to her once Flitwick had completed her spell. She knew the shape from holding them, but she’d never ‘seen’ one before. The magic remained, simmering in that shape as it wobbled to rest on the stand. Awed gasps filled the room - they hadn’t done anything this interesting last year. McGonagall bobbed down the steps at the front. “Now it’s your turn. Who would like to go first… ah! Mister Weasley.  _ One, two, three, Vera Verto _ ,” she said.

Ron shook his wand out and cleared his throat before flicking his wand three times toward Scabbers.

“ _ Vera Verto _ !” he said, as an identical yellow wave struck out at Scabbers.

The result was far from identical. It kept squeaking, and the resulting form appeared to have a tail, at which the class was immediately laughing. To Ariadne however, she saw Scabbers get warped horrifically and immediately jump into panic, magic spiking outward and waving. She recoiled, concerned.

“Almost had it,” McGonagall said.

“P-p-p-pr-Professor?” Ariadne asked.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Is-is Scabbers still supposed to be conscious?” she exclaimed. The bird McGonagall had transfigured hadn’t been, so far as she could tell, but Scabbers most definitely was, and he was scared.

“No, he isn’t.  _ Finite Incantatem _ ,” McGonagall replied, a silver beam striking out at the offending rat-goblet. What followed was even weirder, for but a brief moment, Scabbers was human-sized, sticking through the table before suddenly returning to his usual form. Ariadne frowned. There was something very off about Ron’s rat. “You can try that again later, on a lizard this time. Yes, Miss Granger?” the Professor asked again, walking over to Hermione. She must have had her hand up.

“Professor… I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets?” Hermione asked. The class silenced, the question hovering in the air. Ariadne had to admit, she too was just as curious as her sister.

“Very well,” McGonagall said, carefully. “You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age; Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.” She paced around the desks, nervously. “Now, three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously One did not.”

“Three guesses who,” Ron whispered.

“Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept within all-magic families - in other words, ‘purebloods’. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school,” McGonagall continued. “Now, according to  _ legend _ , Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though shortly before departing, he sealed it, until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the chamber. And unleash the  _ horror _ within, and by so doing, purge the school of all those who,  _ in Slytherin’s view _ , were unworthy to study magic.” The Professor sounded worried.

“Muggleborns,” Hermione said, at which McGonagall pointed her wand in affirmation.

“Well. Naturally, the school has been searched many times. No such Chamber has been found.”

“Professor? What exactly does legend tell us lies within the Chamber?”

“The Chamber is said to be home to something that only the heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be the home... of a monster.”

“Professor? Slytherin was a Parseltongue, wasn’t he?” Ariadne asked. She’d paid close attention when Hermione had read  _ Hogwarts: A History _ . “If his House is associated with snakes, wouldn’t the monster be a sort of snake too if he could control them?”

“It is indeed one of many theories about the legend, but I must stress that the Chamber of Secrets is most likely nothing more than a  _ legend _ . Now, Ariadne, would you care to try transfiguring your lizard into a water-goblet, see if you can’t do a better job than Mister Weasley here?”

As it turned out, she could.

\--

Free to chat amongst themselves after leaving, Ron was quick to speculate.

“Do you think it’s true? Do you think there really is a Chamber of Secrets?” he asked.

“Yes. Couldn’t you tell? McGonagall’s worried all the teachers are. Besides, Ariadne said Mrs. Norris wasn’t Petrified by a spell either.”

“I-ii-if there really is a Chamber of Secrets, and it really has been opened, that means-” Ariadne said.

“The Heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts. The question is, who is it?” Hermione finished.

“Let’s think. Who do we know who thinks all muggle-borns are scum?” Ron asked, as the boy he was talking about walked straight past, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

“If you’re talking about Malfoy…” Hermione said.

“Of course! You heard him.  _ You’ll be next, mudbloods _ ,” Ron replied.

“I heard him. But Malfoy? The Heir of Slytherin?”

“Well, maybe Ron’s right. I mean, look at his family - they’ve all been in Slytherin for centuries, haven’t they?”

“Crabbe and Goyle must know! Maybe we can trick them into telling!”

“I doubt it, they’re not exactly known for retaining historical information. Hmm,” Hermione hummed, thinking. “We’ve still got a couple of hours before Charms. They’re an influential family and always have been. I’d bet we can find their history in the Library if we look in the right books, maybe we can find something. Come on,” she said, turning into the relevant hallway.

\--

Ariadne wished she could read the books, as she sat at a table listening to Hermione half-recite a history book. She felt useless. Even Ron had done some research. Some. He was now sitting on the table itself, as Hermione read  _ An Account of Magical Activity in Britain, Third Edition, 1812 _ .

“I wish wizarding publishing houses would learn to use an index,” Hermione murmured. “This book’s a mess.”

“This is pointless,” Ron complained. “I’m hungry too. We’ve been here an hour and we haven’t found anything. I say we find some way of getting  _ him _ to tell us.” He jumped off the table, before Hermione sat up.

“Aha! Here they are.” Ron turned back, interest immediately returning. “ _The Malfoy family has its roots in what is now France, and first arrived in Britain in 1066, involved in the Norman invasion lead by William the Conqueror in the form of Armand Malfoy, born in 1015,_ ” Hermione recited. “ _The Malfoys have been involved in political machinations, both Muggle and more recently Magical since this time and perhaps even earlier in what is now Normandy. Their land in Wiltshire was seized for their ownership during the reign of William the Conqueror, and now plays host to Malfoy Manor._ ” Hermione sounded almost disappointed. “It’s not them - Salazar was still accounted for during the Norman invasion, and his family was believed to have come from either Ireland or Wales.”

“Who else do you think it could be?” Ariadne asked.

“I don’t know. For all we know, they might not even be in Slytherin’s house, and Slytherin’s family isn’t accounted for past a few years after he left Hogwarts according to this,” Hermione replied, tapping another book. She sighed, leaning back. “It can’t possibly be Crabbe or Goyle, they’re far too thick to pull it off. Besides, if it’s started this year, it’s probably a first year student who’s only just arrived, not a second year like us..”

“So Malfoy’s just an arse, then?” Ron asked.

“Yes, Ron. He’s just your everyday bigot,” Hermione replied as the bell rang to signify the middle of lunchtime and they scrambled to go eat something before Charms.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so the way the movie sets up the Polyjuice plot is absurd, we aren’t doing that lmao. It made far more sense to me that Hermione’s instinct would be to look up the Malfoys rather than to brew an insanely difficult potion to impersonate Malfoy’s lackeys for an hour to maybe see if he’d mention it one night.


	46. Next Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of Ariadne’s appointment with Madam Pomphrey finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dysphoria, genital mention (vague).

**Sunday, 15th of September** .

Ariadne had not been able to sleep that night. Or at least, if she had, she hadn’t noticed. She’d tossed and turned all night, hoping to find a comfortable position and doze off, but sleep had never come amidst the cold night. She yawned into her pillow as the bell tolled for seven o’clock.

It was the day of the appointment. And of course, she was anxious. Her only interactions with medical professionals outside of Hogwarts had been - after turning up to her GP’s office in a skirt - negative. Deadnaming and misgendering filled her memory, even as she knew Pomphrey seemed better. Her mum and dad hadn’t gotten back to her about their talk with the GP yet; either it just hadn’t happened yet, or news had been bad. She’d given up on that doctor anyway.

Sniffing and rubbing sleep from her eyes, she went about her morning routine. It didn’t help that she was already self-conscious of her appearance, let alone now when she was actively thinking about it. She tugged on her skirt and warmest long socks gladly, buttoning up her jumper and sitting on the edge of her bed pensively, as she tried not to think about her body. 

However, as always happens when one actively tries not to think about something, she could not help it and resigned herself to the wrongness crawling through her consciousness. Finding her way to the Common Room, she sat down on the sofa by the burnt out fireplace. It was colder than she’d like in the room, so she felt around for the firewood pile and threw some small pieces into the hearth, casting  _ incendio _ into them. That was better.

It was not Ron, her dorm-mates or even Hermione who joined her shortly. It was Ginny.

“Hey Ariadne,” she said. “Sleep okay?” Ariadne grimaced.

“Not really. Have a thing today, about, uh, y-you know what. Madam Pomphrey,” Ariadne replied. “You?”

“Neither. It’s weird…” Ginny trailed off for but a moment, her magic almost buzzing and shaking for a split second before returning to normal. Ariadne almost wouldn’t have caught it if she wasn’t paying attention. “New school and all. Hard to sleep.” Ginny stood suddenly. “I’m uh, I’m going to go to breakfast. See you!”

\--

After she too had had breakfast with the girls in her dorm and returned to the Common Room, Ariadne and Ron were playing chess on his magic-painted board while Hermione watched. The rest of the Quidditch team had gone to training already, and Oliver had told her that if she had time after her appointment, they’d be out until six thirty. At least her regular Sundays would be filled, she thought.

“Checkmate,” she said, moving her knight into position as a tap on the window filled the room.

“Oh, its Hermes,” Hermione called as she jogged over and retrieved the letter the owl was holding - Ariadne could see the label addressed to her in magical ink. Hermione handed it to her and she opened it.

> _ Our Dearest Ariadne, _
> 
> _ Sadly, we can’t give any good news to Hermes to bring you. The doctor was, let’s say, less than helpful and refuses to assist in your transition - have you spoken to Madam Pomphrey yet? While you’re away, we’ll see if we can find you a better GP, one who isn’t an arse about you. _
> 
> _ We hope you’re having a wonderful time at school - how are your lessons going? _
> 
> _ With love, Mum and Dad. _

As she finished, the bell rang again - two o’clock in the afternoon. She realized as her stomach roiled that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“I-I-I-I’m gonna go get lunch and then go to the Hospital Wing,” Ariadne said, getting up and putting the letter in her bag.

\--

Ariadne hadn’t eaten much. She was too anxious, and now sat, swinging her too-short-to-reach-the-floor feet under the chair in the waiting room outside Pomphrey’s office. An enchanted radio sat in the corner, playing comedically ordinary music for a magical school.

She didn’t know if she should have eaten more or if it would only have made her feel worse. Tossing her cane between her hands, she jumped and nearly dropped it as a student whose colours she didn’t recognize appeared through the door and left, thanking Madam Pomphrey.

“Ah! Miss Granger, I see you’re early. Come in, come in,” Pomphrey said, peering out. Ariadne obliged, hurriedly closing the door behind her and probing for the chair. Having found what she could only assume was the chair, she sat. It was a much more comfortable chair than its counterparts outside. Pomphrey set aside a number of papers, shuffling things on her desk about before stopping. “Now, Ariadne. I want to start by making clear that nothing you tell me, with the exception of information that constitutes an emergency, will be shared with anyone else. Full medical confidentiality as always. Second, this can be an uncomfortable thing to talk about; I will understand if you’d rather not answer or explain something. All good?” Ariadne nodded. “Now. To begin, I must ask for an explanation of your transition so far; what your experiences have been, and what your goals are. You can be as vague or as specific as you like. Is that okay?” Ariadne nodded, thinking.

“I um, I guess uh, I guess I started realizing I was a girl not long before Hermione and her parents adopted me? Some of the clothes they gave me at the temporary place, th-that-that I chose, were girls’ clothes and that felt right, you know?” Ariadne said, hesitantly. “Hermione found out when I was seven, I had been - um, I had been, er, stealing her school jumpers. We got out some books on Greek myths - Hermione was named after a Greek princess - and found a name so we could be matching instead of my uh, my old name.” Ariadne shuddered.

“I’m glad Hermione was so supportive right from the start, that’s good,” Pomphrey noted, and Ariadne realized she was taking notes.

“Yeah! We told Mum and Dad a while later, and then a year later I started going to school as, um, me. As a girl. Got… got bullied for it a lot. Tha-tha-th-th-th-a-that was one of the times I did magic by accident, broke some mirrors.” She squeezed her hands. “Th-then we came to Hogwarts.”

“Okay, good, thanks. Looked like some of that was hard to say, well done. So you’ve been living as a girl for five years, since you were seven?” She nodded. “And you said you started realizing just before the Grangers adopted you? When would that have been?”

“I-I was six when they adopted me.”

“Hmm. Okay. Bringing us back to the present day and days to come, what are your goals for the future? Since you’re coming to me, I must assume there is a medical component?” Pomphrey asked.

“Uh. Um. B-bef-befo-befo-be-bef… In the holidays I noticed my v-v-voice b- breaking. I- I-I-I-I-I - I don’t-” Ariadne broke off.

“You don’t want that to continue?” She shook her head. “Okay, so in the immediate future, preventing the onset and progression of a male puberty. And what of desirable change, would you want to bring about a female puberty?” She nodded, slightly more confident of the question than she had been in the car. It wasn’t as if she was going to change her mind, and the less of a delay she had behind her peers the better. “Well, that’s fairly straightforward. In terms of preventing a male puberty, I can prescribe you a potion called the Androgen Arrestor, which will prevent the production of testosterone in your body. You would need to take it daily for the foreseeable future. Since you’re luckily early on in the process, it should bring an effective stop to it, and you may even notice some reduction in what little has already taken place.” Pomphrey explained. Ariadne perked up a bit - good news! “In regards to bringing about a female puberty, that too can be facilitated by a potion called the Estrogenating Elixir.” Ariadne nodded, following along. “If your being a girl were a more recent development I would not be so quick to offer that, but in my experience one must not underestimate the certainty of a young person about their own identity. Both are significantly more effective than their Muggle counterparts, however you will most likely have a wee bit of a delay compared to your dorm-mates who have a head-start on you.”

“O-okay,” Ariadne stammered, if only to make sure Pomphrey knew she was paying attention.

“Now, provided the consent form I’ll have you and your parents sign is all in order, we can start with the Androgen Arrestor, most likely before Christmas. Most of that time is simply the time it will take me to acquire all the ingredients and get it brewed. The Estrogenating Elixir I would be able to start you on after a few months at least on just the Arrestor, simply to make sure that’s stable and effective before adding estrogen into the mix. Does that all sound good?”

“Yes!” Ariadne exclaimed. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem, young lady. I might note, you said you’d heard your voice breaking but if it helps; your voice is far from masculine. Is there anything else you might ask of me?” Pomphrey said happily as she shuffled through papers.

She did have one more question, but didn’t know how to ask it.

“Wh-wh-wh-what ab-about um,” she tilted her head downward. “Um.. could-could we-- um… transfiguration?” That was mortifying. Pomphrey sighed.

“I understand why you would ask that, I do. But. I must ask you to swear to me that you will  _ never _ attempt transfiguration of your genitals for that purpose. Please understand, transfigurations like that do not take permanently, and would inevitably revert. Additionally, human transfiguration is dangerous enough as it is for a  _ skilled _ transfiguration specialist in the field, let alone a student. If performed incorrectly, which it would be at your skill level, it would kill you,” Pomphrey told her, sternly. Ariadne nodded along, a bit glum. She hadn’t expected it to be feasible, but she had to have asked. “Now, if in your later years here should you feel you require that performed for a short period for, ah, interpersonal reasons, I am sure neither Professor McGonagall nor myself would judge; if that should be something you require  _ when you are of age _ , speak to me and I’ll arrange it with Professor McGonagall,” she added, delicately as Ariadne felt her face go as red as she’d been told a beetroot was. “Transfiguration of such a nature does not retain, unfortunately; it is why nobody has suggested transfiguration as a remedy for your blindness. Transfiguring your eyeballs into a functional state would most likely be extremely short-lived and would be an extremely painful experience both in establishment and reversion; last I was told, your blindness was caused by a caustic cleaning agent. If that were attempted, you would essentially re-experience your outer eyeballs dissolving.”

If anything today would distract her from the stress of the transition appointment by bringing up something more unpleasant, that was it. She didn’t even remember that event anymore, and she had no intention of reliving it. Madam Pomphrey pulled a sheet from a stack.

“I have a consent sheet regarding the prescription of the Androgen Arrestor potion here, which I have written out in magical ink for you. You take that with you, as well as this-” she took out another sheet “-which is an outline of the effects and possible side effects, as well as those for the Estrogenating Elixir. The consent sheet must be signed by both yourself and a guardian, one of your parents.”

\--

Full of joy and veritably skipping insofar as she could with her cane, Ariadne returned to the Common Room and - in private - told Hermione all about it. She carefully signed the consent form, and wrote up a letter to send it with to her parents.

> _ To Mum and Dad, _
> 
> _ (15/09/02) _
> 
> _ School has been grand! Herbology practicals have started up, we’ve been re-potting Mandrakes and Leaping Toadstools so far. Turns out Gilderoy Lockhart is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but he’s useless at it. He released Cornish Pixies into the classroom on our first lesson, Hermione had to use a freezing charm on them - but when she did, it made a wave of magic I could see everything with. I’ve spoken to Professor Flitwick about it and Hermione and I are working with him to produce a spell that should work like RADAR for me! _
> 
> _ Sorry to hear about the doctor. But I did talk to Madam Pomphrey, today actually! She’s a lot better than the doctor, and I’ve enclosed a consent form for a potion she’s proposed I go on - it’s called the Androgen Arrestor, and effectively functions as a puberty blocker. She says I’d most likely be starting it a bit before the Christmas holidays, and should be able to start the Estrogenating Elixir after several months (to make sure the Arrestor is working). They’re allegedly more effective than their non-magical counterparts too. _
> 
> _ Ariadne _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been looking forward to this one. Ariadne’s not gonna have an easy year, so it’s nice to give her some good stuff to look forward to.  
> I’m noticing my chapters based on scenes in the film tend not to explore Ariadne’s thoughts and experience as much, I should rectify that.


	47. A Bloody Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Quidditch game of the season is rough to say the least.

Slytherin were fifty points up, and it seemed Gryffindor were not the only team to have adopted a more aggressive strategy. And Ariadne had thought her first game far from a “nice, clean” one. For the moment, she needed a breather and hovered cautiously above the rest of the game - she’d taken her less than fair share of bruises, having been knocked about by Slytherin’s players, Malfoy included, as well as almost taking a bludger to the thigh. 

Angelina hounded the Slytherin Chasers, never quite able to catch them on their racing brooms as the Quaffle was thrown toward the faintly glowing middle hoop. Wood deflected it with what must have been his foot, hooking it around back to Angelina who immediately made a charge for the Slytherin goal while Wood fended off another Slytherin Chaser. As a Bludger careened toward her, Ariadne prepared to dodge it before George pounced on it, slamming it toward Malfoy.

The Slytherins had possession of the Quaffle again; the Chaser from before had punched it out of Angelina’s arms and into the hands of their Keeper, then back on toward Wood. Sensing an opportunity as the decorated Quaffle sped past her below, she dived for the Chaser, hot on his tail. Infuriatingly, he evaded her by maneuvering around the towers that surrounded the pitch - towers she couldn’t see, and for her safety she had to avoid and as such, break off her pursuit.

“Ugh,” she groaned as Wood failed to intercept him, and the bell tolled for another ten points.

“Another goal for Slytherin!” the commentator called. That put Slytherin sixty points ahead. “They lead Gryffindor ninety to thirty!” The entire Slytherin team, save for their Keeper, fell into an arrowhead formation, charging across the pitch. As they swung around, Ariadne ducked instinctively as they flew overhead - lucky she did, as she heard the swoop of a Beater’s bat right beside her ear. She needed to find the Snitch, before Slytherin got too far ahead.

She found herself a high vantage point, casting her consciousness about the stadium for the characteristic purple speck that was the Golden Snitch. She’d almost had it at the beginning of the game, before this match had become a slaughter. Malfoy swung in to her right, he too surveying the pitch now it seemed.

“All right there White-Eyes?” he taunted. Behind her, a Bludger roared toward her, and she span to avoid it as it curled around her.

“Watch yourself Ariadne!” Wood called as she almost didn’t make the dodge. If she was taken out, there was no  _ way _ they’d win this. The Bludger curled back around, this time making a beeline for Wood.

“Look out!” she cried, just in time for Oliver to veer back and avoid the ball which then chose to target Malfoy, who blew away toward his team. George intercepted the Bludger, whacking it back toward Malfoy again as it flew toward Angelina.

Ariadne dove as the Slytherin wing once again passed by, pirouetting around them as Malfoy hung nearby. She hadn’t been able to get the Quaffle off them yet, but there’d been some near misses, and she was holding them up nicely.

“Training for the ballet, Granger?” Malfoy called, a split second before Ariadne lashed out, punching the Quaffle from the arms of Marcus Flint, straight to Katie, who shot off with it.

“Better at it than you, Malfoy!” Ariadne called, adrenaline pushing through her stammer as she returned to a searching stance. The second Bludger almost  _ snuck _ up from behind, as if it didn’t know Ariadne could see behind her, before charging. Ariadne smiled briefly - it was directly opposite Malfoy from her, and with a careful roll she could-

Ariadne rolled, just as the Bludger would have smashed into her - instead, it carried on, directly toward Malfoy who dove to the side from it, revealing what had been just behind him. The Golden Snitch. She shot toward it as it fled, her robe smacking over Malfoy’s face as she charged. As soon as Malfoy had turned, he took chase, beginning to catch up.

Ariadne lost sight of the Snitch. And then it was back. And then it was gone.

_ It had dived into the supports _ .

She couldn’t chase it into there, not if she intended to come out breathing. She wouldn’t be able to see anything if she did, and she cursed as she veered back.

Malfoy, however, had no such limitation, and immediately passed her, jetting through the maze that was the supports. Ariadne punched the air in frustration and made chase above the supports - she couldn’t catch him, but if the Snitch came up, she’d be ready.

A bludger barrelled angrily toward her, and she curved over its path effortlessly as it smashed through what she could only presume was the supports for the stands. She cringed, hoping it wouldn’t get anyone hurt. It was however, invisible to her behind the wall and she anxiously paid attention to her right for any sudden explosions of splinters that would herald its return.

_ CRASH _

Below her. As the only player so far from the game, Malfoy had the Bludger’s full attention for the moment, and it charged after him below her as Ariadne chuckled to herself. The more distractions Malfoy had, the more likely he was to hit something or disengage.

She hoped he did - he was closing the gap with the Snitch as they made yet another full rotation around the stadium as he came up to go over the platform where a first year - Collin Creevey, if Ariadne remembered right - was standing, his magic camera in hand which immediately snapped a frame as they shot past him. Ariadne stayed up, Malfoy dove straight back into the supports as the Bludger smashed even more wooden beams. The bell tolled above.

“Ten points to Gryffindor! They trail ninety to forty!” Ariadne was glad that the rest of the game was well-stalled, it took pressure off her. But if the Snitch didn’t surface soon, they’d have a problem.

The Bludger ricocheted back into oblivion, smashing through a wall and disappearing. Malfoy was only metres away from the Snitch as it swung up to find Ariadne - she must have gotten too close. She swerved to dodge it, arm grazing by the cloth of the stands ever so slightly as it shot past her and back into the game proper. As she did, she realized she must have been too close to the Snitch as well - it knew she was there and wasn’t going to come up as long as she was. She backed off by maybe ten feet, and sure enough, the Snitch cautiously raised up.

Malfoy tried to follow, before his broom suddenly spiralled out of the supports, him still on it, at great speeds. He’d clipped a support. His broom was ejected, and he tumbled across the ground, crying out as the crowd reacted.

The Snitch left the supports. Ariadne smiled; now she had no competition. The Snitch fled across the entire field, swinging around in vain as she closed the gap; ten feet… eight…

Ariadne wasn’t paying attention to the world around her as she held out her arm, reaching for the tiny ball. There was no way Slytherin would get enough points to negate the 150 from the Snitch in time.

Four feet.

Three.

Two.

One.

The second bludger slammed into her right arm, cracking the armguard and sending agony spiralling up her body as she spun - luckily not losing velocity - and cried out in pain.

Her arm was almost certainly broken. But she couldn’t lose the Snitch before Malfoy got back up. Desperate, she hooked her now broken right arm under her broom, shaking on it as she tilted downward unwittingly, left hand grasping for the Snitch.

She threw her hand downward and felt the feathery ball fill her fingers. Celebration would be premature, however, as the motion tugged her around in such a way her hooked right arm lost grip, as she rolled underneath her broom.

Her back slammed into the ground and slid across the sand. The Nimbus 2000 shot off into the distance, coming to a halt by what she could only presume was the base of the Slytherin hoops.

She swore her entire body was bruised as the adrenaline wore off and the pain took over. She raised her left hand, within, the purple glow of the now stopped Snitch. She grimaced as she lay back. Hesitant cheers and cries of concern filled the stands.

“Ariadne Granger has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins, one hundred and ninety to ninety!” Cheers erupted in earnest on the Gryffindor side of the pitch as she could not help but smile. Despite her injuries, she’d won the game for Gryffindor. It more than made up for the game she’d missed after Quirrell.

A number of students and a teacher or two ran onto the pitch - Hermione and Ron at the head of the pack, Hagrid too following.

“Are you okay?!” Hermione exclaimed, kneeling down to her.

“N-no. I-I-I-I-I-I think my-my arm is broken,” Ariadne replied, trying to sit up and realizing the hard way that she probably shouldn’t have put weight on the broken arm. Gilderoy Lockhart slid down beside her opposite Hermione.

“Not to worry Ariadne, I will fix that arm of yours straight away!” Lockhart exclaimed quickly.

Looking at his weak magic and remembering his record - which had only gotten worse in the weeks since their first Defence lesson - Ariadne leant back from him instinctively. She had, to say the least, her doubts.

“N-nn-no. Not you, you’re not-not a medic,” she protested.

“Girl doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Lockhart dismissed, pulling out his wand as Ariadne flinched. He leant forward, taking her arm painfully and pulling up her sleeve as she gasped in pain. “This won’t hurt a bit.” Hermione’s magic was leaping about, as if she wanted to stop this but was in the middle of a shutdown. Lockhart pulled his wand from his robes. “ _ Brackium… Emendo! _ ” he declared, as a wave of red light shone over her arm, illuminating it.

He had been right, there was no pain.

But the sensation that accompanied it was sickening as she frowned - that was not even a spell as far as she knew. Lockhart leant forward and took her arm again. 

Ariadne nearly vomited as she felt her forearm bend with a disgusting sound and the crowd now gathered around her reacted accordingly.

“Ah, yes, well, that can sometimes happen. Um. But, um, the point is, uh…” Lockhart bent her wrist back one hundred and eighty degrees as Ariadne again resisted the urge to vomit as she whimpered. “You can no longer feel any pain, and very clearly, the bones are not broken.”

“Broken?!’ Hagrid exclaimed as he loomed above. “There’s no bones left!” Lockhart released her wrist, which bounced back like elastic as her arm hung from his hand.

“Much more flexible though.”

Ariadne swore that as soon as she was capable of it again, her right arm’s next use would be to punch the daylights out of the smug Professor as she glared at him as best she could.

\--

The trip up to the Hospital Wing had been… unpleasant to say the least. Hermione had held her the entire time, for which she was grateful, but the sensation of her now de-boned right arm swinging beside her was intolerable. It was her turn to be non-verbal as a combination of rage at Lockhart and revulsion waved over her. After the experience, she lay in a bed in the Hospital Wing, her arm mercifully still as it lay in her lap. The entire team and most of her dorm-mates - as well as Ron - stood around her as Malfoy groaned in another bed and Madam Pomphrey stormed into the room.

“Oh Mister Malfoy, stop making such a fuss, you can go! Out of my way, out of my way!” she yelled as she parted Ariadne’s concerned friends. “Should have been brought  _ straight _ to me! I can mend bones in a heartbeat, but  _ growing them back! _ ” She put something down on the bedside table beside her.

“You will be able to, won’t you?!” Hermione asked.

“Oh I’ll be  _ able _ to, certainly. But it’ll be painful, you’re in for a rough night, Granger. Regrowing bones is a nasty business.” Pomphrey poured a glowing green liquid into what must have been a glass, before taking her functional left hand and giving it to her.

The first sip almost overwhelmed the nausea she’d been holding for what felt like hours, but she grimaced and kept it down. It tasted vile and burned her tongue. Steeling her resolve, she downed the rest of the glass.

“Good, most people spit it out immediately. You lot, out, now,” Pomphrey commanded with a stern tone. “Ariadne dear, I’ll help you get changed, it’s not going to be fun with that arm. We’ll put it in a cast, and then you’ll be staying the night here. Odds are it’ll be finished by morning, but I must insist you go easy on that arm for the next month or so.”  _ So no punching Lockhart with it _ .

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No tampered-with Bludger this time.


	48. Photographic Petrification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horrifying events come to Ariadne’s attention as she struggles to sleep while SkeleGrow does its job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a big dumb dumb last chapter; that’s a sling, not a cast!  
> I’ve got little better do right now (other than an assignment but shush) so hey have another chapter today. Trying to make my renditions of scenes from the films a bit more compelling, so let’s see how I do with this one.

Sleep was downright impossible with the potion Pomphrey had told her was called SkeleGrow. Pain was only one component, and somehow not the worst. At its worst, the pain had been a nasty throb - it was the inconsistency that was worst. One minute it would be almost so low it could be ignored, the next it was too much for her to even  _ attempt _ to move the arm. She’d managed to doze off for a few minutes at a time, semi-conscious rather than truly asleep, but had always been roused by the pain.

At least the worst of it had been after about an hour from when she’d taken the dose. It had - on average - been going down, but not to the point she could ignore it. She was physically uncomfortable in general to start with; it was impossible to find a comfortable position with her arm needing to remain as still as possible.

The shooting pains in her fingers receded after a while - Ariadne tentatively tried to move one, and found it worked, if painfully. She didn’t trust it to try again, but took solace in that it was working.

She didn’t like sleeping in the Hospital Wing - at least the second years’ dormitory was known to her, with her familiar colours wafting along the surfaces. This was a clinical environment, with diffused magic and too much ambient noise for her. At least she was alone in the Wing, there were no other students there.

A rumbling noise shook through the floor as she yawned. It had been happening all night, feeling like it was coming from different directions. She’d never heard it from Gryffindor Tower; perhaps this wing of the castle was just prone to creaking in the night?

It didn’t sound like creaking, if she was honest. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was moving. Not the ever so slightly shifting weight of the castle itself, like something was moving about the castle.

She crushed her cheek into the pillow as she tried to bring her breathing into an order that would help her sleep. Soon though, she lifted her head in confusion.

Someone was talking. Why would someone be nearby other than Madam Pomphrey?

“ _ Kill… Kill…  _ **_Kill_ ** …” Ariadne shot up in her bed, sitting. The noise was nearby, rumbling ever onward. “ _ Time to kill… _ ”  _ Oh no, _ Ariadne thought. A repetition of Mrs. Norris wasn’t a good thing. The noise was almost fleshy, undulating, but it stopped as suddenly as she had heard it. She frowned.

“Ugh,” she murmured. “Must be hearing things.” She  _ was _ exhausted. “Maybe I’m dreaming.” She leaned back, yawning again and pulling the blanket back over her. The pain in her arm wasn’t so bad anymore.

A voice roused her from her semi-conscious state only minutes later. Her magic sense had devolved into a blur, but as the whisper filled the room it quickly clarified again. Madam Pomphrey, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore and two staff whose colours she didn’t recognize were at a bed by the door - the unknown staff were carrying something, but it was behind those she knew.

“Put him here,” Pomphrey whispered, and what they were carrying bled into Ariadne’s line of sense, as the caged colours of Collin Creevey were transferred onto a bed.

It was exactly like Mrs. Norris. His magic was shifting ever so slightly, caged within itself as he lay, otherwise motionless. His magic camera hovered above him, his wand sticking out of what must have been a pocket.

“What happened?” the matron asked.

“There has been another attack,” Dumbledore replied.

“I think - I think he’s been Petrified, Madam Pomphrey,” McGonagall added, confirming what Ariadne could see in her proverbial mind’s eye. She was torn between reacting and remaining quiet - the staff would not have wanted this to get out yet.

It seemed however, her uneven breathing had betrayed her as Madam Pomphrey bobbed over quickly.

“Go back to sleep, Ariadne,” she whispered. “I’m sure Professor McGonagall will speak to you tomorrow, now go back to sleep.” Pomphrey pulled the curtains around her bed shut with a metallic rustle, cutting off her magic vision. But there was no way she’d be able to sleep again after this revelation, so she resolved to listen.

Pomphrey’s shoes clicked back across as McGonagall piped up again.

“Look. Perhaps he managed to take a picture of his attacker.” Silence for a moment, punctuated only by small tapping noises. She jumped as the sound of an explosion filled the room, and Pomphrey gasped. “What can this mean, Albus?!” Ariadne didn’t have to sense McGonagall’s magical core to know she was scared; she’d been scared already when she entered the room.

“It means…” Dumbledore began. “That our students are in great danger.”

“What should I tell the staff?”

“The truth,” Dumbledore replied. “Tell them Hogwarts is no longer safe. It is as we feared, Minerva. The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again,” he whispered.

Again?

This had happened before?!

_ No wonder McGonagall was so worried when Hermione asked about the Chamber _ , Ariadne thought.  _ She knew it might be true. No, is true. _

\--

When morning came, she was relieved to discover that she had actually managed to sleep - birdsong rang from outside, as did the gigantic tolling of the clock tower bell not fifty feet from her. It did, however, sound dulled, which she appreciated; perhaps it was enchanted for such distances. She sat up suddenly, her magic sense buzzing from the immediate call to wake.

“Ah, Ariadne, you’re up,” Madam Pomphrey said, striding over. Sensing the sudden void that was the surrounding curtain of the bed she’d seen Collin put on, she knew she hadn’t imagined that. “All right, let’s see how that arm did.” She sat down beside Ariadne. “Mind bending your elbow for me?” Ariadne complied, bringing her hand up to shoulder level. “How’s that feel?”

“B-bit stiff?” she replied, unsure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Okay, all right so far. Let’s get you out of that sling,” Pomphrey said gladly, and Ariadne felt her undo the knot behind her. Freed, Ariadne stretched her elbow. “Give those fingers a wiggle, let’s see those hands.” She raised her hand, bending her digits in order from thumb to pinkie. Then all at once, stretching open and closed. Again, a little stiff. She took the initiative to check her wrist. “Oh good, good. Let’s give that shoulder a stretch.” Awkwardly, not knowing where Pomphrey was aside from a centre of mass, she rolled her arm about a bunch, reaching back behind her both over her head and then back up from her waist. “Excellent, looks like this has gone well. About all that did last night, I’m afraid. I presume you sensed what happened to Mister Creevey?” Ariadne grimaced and nodded. “Young Mister Creevey was found late last night, after his dorm-mates alerted Professor McGonagall to his absence. Numerous investigations are to be underway shortly.” Pomphrey sighed. “On the far more ordinary note of your own injury; I’ve brought a stress ball for you, I want you to just squeeze this a bit throughout the day, give that hand some exercise; they are, after all, fresh bones. I don’t suppose you can write with your left?” Ariadne nodded as Pomphrey gave her the ball which she gave an experimental squeeze. It didn’t resist so much that she couldn’t do it, but enough to require some tension. She could hear the stress in the nurse’s voice.

“I-I-I-I learnt with both hands, last year,” she replied. Her handwriting wasn’t quite as good with her left, but she liked to keep in practice with both just in case of events exactly as this.

“Okay, good. Don’t go full left, but make sure you give the right hand plenty of rest from writing, you’re likely to get cramps in it if you don’t. Some other good news, we’ve received all the shipments for the ingredients of the Androgen Arrestor, so I’ll have that ready for you a week or two before your holiday. Now, you’re free to go, I’ve had your normal uniform brought up. It’s not so late that you’ll miss breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry so best be quick eh?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time, 47 was longer than I expected anyway.   
> One thing I find hilarious about this; When later everyone’s like ‘oh what if canon!Harry is the heir,’ they don’t seem to have very good memories. Collin was accounted for at Quidditch, and canon!Harry was literally in the hospital wing for the rest of the day. Could not POSSIBLY have been involved.  
> Some devilish fun next chapter >:)


	49. Lightning Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The establishment of a dueling club organized by Professor Lockhart ends badly for Ariadne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wouldn’t be able to get this out tonight, but I’ve been planning it too long to sleep on it. TW: Deadnaming.

Ariadne did not know why she had allowed herself to be dragged along to stand right at the front of the Dueling Club Professor Lockhart had established, but she did not find herself alone in this. What must have been half her year was in attendance, as well as a vast amount of first and third years. Those above didn’t seem as interested, most likely having already learnt such skills. And to tell the truth, Ariadne wasn’t particularly interested either; somehow it had been Ron who had been most interested and insisted on bringing her and her sister along.

She also didn’t like that the Great Hall had been rearranged for it. It was times like these that made her glad she had her cane, as had she not, she would certainly have tripped on the dais that had apparently been laid along the middle of the room. The usual House tables had been evacuated elsewhere, with some of their benches by the sides of the room - above them hung five enchanted balls, which upon asking, Ariadne had been told were spotlights along the stage.

It had been a week since Collin Creevey had been Petrified - nerves were frayed among the teachers, and Lockhart had established the club in order to boost student morale. She had to admit, it was a more altruistic action than she’d come to expect from the narcissistic author, however, she was fully expecting him to be showing off at all times. Ariadne had found more valuable distraction from Quidditch training and Flitwick’s impromptu lessons, which she and Hermione had already filled whole notebooks with information from. The spell was coming along nicely, and they were a little ahead of schedule; they had, however, had to rearrange a large section of the original diagram due to some conflicting layers.

“An interesting design choice, the moon cycle carpet. Or are those meant to be the moon and the larger circles the sun?” Hermione asked, to nobody in particular as they stood by the stage. “No, that’d hardly be accurate for an eclipse, the perspective is all wrong.”

“Do you have any idea what that means?” Ron asked, leaning to Ariadne, who stared blankly back at him - her attention truly on Lockhart, who’d just entered the room, but her face toward Ron.

“Yes,” she replied.

“You can’t even see it!”

“Perhaps you should pay attention in Astronomy,” Ariadne replied, turning to the carpet before Lockhart ascended what had to have been another set of stairs at the other end.

“Gather round!” Lockhart yelled. “Gather… round. Can everybody see me?” he called, definitely employing a showman’s manner as Ariadne had expected, striding toward her end.

“No,” she murmured, smiling to herself.

“Can you all… hear me?” Lockhart spoke quieter. He span and began pacing the other way. “Excellent. In light of the _dark_ events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to _train_ you all up! In case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works.” There was the self-aggrandizing. There was an unbidden gasp behind Ariadne a ways; what it was about, she had no idea, but going off the revealing of his wand from under a garment that didn’t seem present anymore, perhaps he’d thrown his cloak. “Let me introduce, my _assistant_ ; Professor Snape!” he called, as Snape rose smoothly from the crowd as if he were not even ascending stairs. Ariadne did not think he would appreciate being referred to as an assistant. “He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration - Now I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry! You’ll still have your Potions Master when I’m through with him, never fear.” Of _that_ , Ariadne had no doubt. Lockhart drew his wand and strode toward Snape, and the two met approximately in the middle.

The pair flicked their wands up to - Ariadne presumed - their faces in a salute, before swiping them back down to their sides. They span, striding evenly to either end of the dais, spinning again toward each other - Lockhart pointing his wand at Snape with a flourish, Snape reciprocating far more simply.

“One,” Lockhart declared, beginning to count. “Two. Three.” Lockhart barely moved, but Ariadne could already ‘see’ Snape beginning to cast something.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Snape yelled, deliberately over-doing the enunciation as if to demonstrate. He lunged forward, curling his wand around and aiming for Lockhart before a clearly over-charged beam of white energy slammed into his opponent’s now illuminated body, throwing him several feet backward onto the ground as he cried out and crashed onto the stage. Laughter filled the room more than Lockhart’s ego would probably appreciate, laughter Ariadne couldn’t help but gently take part in. She didn’t like Snape, but she disliked Lockhart more. The man groaned and got up slowly.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Hermione asked.

“Who cares? Ron replied, still laughing a bit.

“An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape,” Lockhart declared, getting back up. “But if you don’t mind me saying, it was _pretty obvious_ , ah, what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have only been too easy.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to _first_ teach the students to block unfriendly spells, Professor,” Snape replied. Ariadne smiled; that wasn’t a tone Snape used on other teachers. It was a tone he used on children he judged incompetent, albeit not usually correctly. The sternness hung in the air for a moment.

“An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Er, let’s have a volunteer pair, er, Granger, Weasley, how about you?” Ariadne immediately started probing her way toward the dais. “Oh, I meant Hermione, but excellent spirit Ariadne! Up you come!”

“Weasley, I fear would refuse to act in full capacity against his... disadvantaged friend. Might I suggest someone from my own house?” Snape called. Oh, now Ariadne hated Snape more than Lockhart for the moment. “Malfoy, perhaps?” Snape span and strode back to the head of the dais as Draco jumped up onto the stage. Ariadne heard snickers from his little group as she carefully probed her way up the shallow stairs. Ariadne walked toward Malfoy, pulling her wand from her pocket.

“Good luck, Granger,” Lockhart said as he passed her.

“Thank you, sir,” Ariadne replied reflexively, walking toward her opponent. Seeker against Seeker, it seemed this was to be. The pair stopped as they reached each other.

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart called. Ariadne swung her wand ahead of her, attempting to imitate the salute she’d only been able to partially observe; she got the impression she might have had her wand too high up. In unison, Malfoy did the same, holding his wand up.

“Scared, Granger?” Malfoy sneered.

“Not in the slightest,” Ariadne replied, which was in fact true. She had a few radial tricks up her sleeve after practicing with Flitwick, and while they weren’t the strongest, they could throw Malfoy off a bit. Malfoy flicked his wand back down, and Ariadne followed. They turned, and began walking apart. She didn’t use her cane this time; she knew it was a flat surface, and she knew where to stop thanks to where certain people were. Her gait was a little unsteady due to the uncertainty, but she found herself at her point at the same time as Malfoy. Draco, it seemed had taken some sort of pose. Ariadne didn’t, she simply stood, left arm by her side, right arm pointing her wand at her opponent.

“On the count of three!” Lockhart called. “Cast your charms to disarm your opponent - _only_ to disarm.” He raised his wand behind her in emphasis, and she was unsure if the emphasis was for both of them or for Malfoy alone. “We don’t want any accidents here. One.”

The air hung heavy as she focused on Malfoy, her wand poised. She had a plan - to block Malfoy, then get him. After all, they _were_ learning how to block unfriendly spells, if Snape was to be believed.

“Two.”

Malfoy lunged forward at her.

“ _Everte Statum!_ ” he cried, as a wide bolt of orange energy lashed out toward her.

“ _Prote-!_ ” Ariadne was too slow in the shield charm she’d learnt from Flitwick. Malfoy was a cheating fuck. She barely had time to realize that as the bolt smashed into her, catapulting her backward and into the air, flipping head over heels before crashing to the ground at Lockhart’s feet.

There was a beat.

Laughter erupted from Malfoy’s peers.

Lockhart leant forward.

“Merlin’s beard…” he whispered. Ariadne didn’t care what that was about at the moment, as she sat up and pointed her wand. Gasps erupted through her side of the hall.

“ _Expelliarmus_ !” she yelled, before a beam of white light struck Malfoy’s wand from his hand. He almost didn’t react. Finally noticing the attention that had _not_ been derivative of her disarming Malfoy, she realized one thing immediately as she sat at Lockhart’s feet;

Hermione’s magic was doing somersaults. Even Ron was panicking, it seemed.

Even _Snape_. She began tilting her head about wildly, more an outward expression of confusion than anything else.

“Ariadne!” Hermione whispered urgently. “Your scar!”

The blood drained from Ariadne’s face as she tentatively felt the right side of her forehead; blown back by the ejection, her hair was in disarray.

And in no way covering the lightning-bolt scar which had forever adorned her forehead.

That was when the whispers began. She felt as if she might faint, but she could pick out a word amongst the whispers. No, a name. A name she had never wanted to hear from the lips of her classmates.

Harry Potter.

“It can’t be…” Lockhart murmured as Ariadne froze. And then flight overtook her. She flailed down the stairs of the dais before finally finding her footing - her cane was lost to the _everte statum_ charm and she’d dropped her wand, but she didn’t care. She needed to get away. Right now. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as she escaped the Hall, desperately looking for somewhere to hide.

They knew.

Everyone would know within an hour.

She tripped, slamming into the ground as she struggled to run, scrambling back to her feet and huddling in the alcove of a statue, trying to put herself behind it.

Hide.

Hide.

Her breath came in short bursts as she heard footsteps and covered her head with her arms. She pulled herself further into the alcove, now well and truly behind it, but she’d already been caught.

“Ariadne! Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed. It was Hermione. “Ariadne, are you all right?!” she cried.

Ariadne slapped the base of the statue twice before returning her arm to her head. _No_. Hermione made a noise and sat beside her.

“Can’t talk right now?” she asked. Two taps on her arm. “Do you need a hug?” Three taps. _I don’t know_. Hermione thought about it, and opted for a halfway measure, draping her arm over Ariadne’s back as tears erupted from Ariadne’s eyes.

Ron was pacing beside the statue.

“What are we going to do?!” he exclaimed. “Everyone knows now!” Hermione spun her head and her hair brushed against Ariadne’s arms as a choked sob filled the alcove.

“Shut up Ronald!” Hermione hissed. “We can’t stay here, people will find us. I brought your wand and cane, let’s go to the dormitory, okay?” she pressed Ariadne’s belongings into her hands. Ariadne nodded vigorously, hesitantly standing and shoving her wand haphazardly into her pocket. Hermione took her hand, Ron took the other, and the pair led her back to the dormitory as quickly as they could - and as indirectly as they could. It reminded Ariadne a lot of the night they’d gone to stop Quirrell.

Voldemort.

His followers would want her dead.

The trip was a blur of panic for her, and they quickly crossed the busy Common Room as Ron fended off questions. She didn’t hear them; it was like her ears weren’t working. Eventually, Hermione sat her down on her bed.

Ariadne did not go to dinner that night; instead, Hermione brought her a small plate and the pair ate together over Ariadne’s nonverbal attempts to write a letter to their parents. In the end, it was short, as Ariadne couldn’t bring herself to write more, and Hermione took it to Hermes.

> _Mum and Dad._
> 
> _People found out. They know I’m the Potter child, they saw my scar, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m scared._
> 
> **_Ariadne Lily Granger_ ** _._

By the time the other girls of the dorm had arrived, Hermione and Ariadne had already pulled the curtains on their beds. But she was not asleep, and she was too dehydrated to cry. For the first time, Ariadne wished for the nightmares over reality as she heard the other girls whispering about it before they stopped.

But much as she wished it, sleep would not come that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to go to bed now, I stayed up way too late for that but I had momentum.


	50. Celebrity Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne must navigate her worst-case-scenario; the revealing of her identity as the Girl Who Lived - in a world that knows her as the Boy Who Lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been looking forward to that for months y’all! If any gif explains my mood, it’s the flaming Elmo one.  
> (also I had nothing better to do yesterday and it was Saturday in my timezone, don’t get used to 3 chapters in one day xD)  
> TW: Deadnaming

One fact was certain in Ariadne’s mind as she lay awake, the seven o’clock tolling of the bell ringing outside.

The response to her letter would come, at the earliest, on Tuesday. And today was Sunday.

And she could only hide in her bed for so long. She had to go to classes tomorrow and -

Oh god.

She had Quidditch practice.

The entire team had been speculating the year before when Harry Potter hadn’t turned up. And the possibility that not one of them had heard was not one Ariadne could entertain.

They would all know. And they would all have questions.

She buried her face in her hands as she lay motionless. Her stomach growled at her, betrayed by how little she’d eaten the day before - she hadn’t even been able to finish her dinner. Ariadne pulled open the curtain beside her, but inexplicably, the plate was gone now. Neither she nor Hermione had taken it. She’d hoped to eat the leftovers as breakfast, but it seemed an excursion was necessary. She couldn’t just not eat.

She also needed to pee. With how dehydrated she was, she didn’t see how, but such was the nature of things. She reluctantly got up, stepping out of the sliver of curtain to take up her cane, before slowly probing her way down the stairs as quietly as she could. She didn’t want to draw attention. As she passed the door to the Common Room landing, voices met her ears.

“I’m not talking about it, okay Dean?!” Ron exclaimed angrily. “She’ll talk about it when she’s ready, now fucking drop it!” Footsteps approached the door she’d just passed. “Oh, Ariadne. Um, good morning. I hope,” Ron said softly, leaning in but not standing on the staircase which would immediately eject him. “I haven’t told them anything, don’t worry, but um, they’ve kinda worked out that it’s true and I already knew. If you need help, I’m here.” Ariadne nodded slightly, facing away from him.

“Thanks,” she whispered, voice hoarse. It made sense; if he was refusing to talk about it, the others in his dorm would take that as proof.

“I was just going to get breakfast, do you want me to come down with you?” Again, Ariadne nodded.

“Yes please,” she said, sniffing.

“Okay. I’ll be in the Common Room.” Ariadne allowed herself the briefest of laughter-sniffs. Ronald Weasley, delaying breakfast? Incredible. Ron departed, and she went about her business. Luckily, she didn’t run into anyone on the way there or back, and gratefully pulled the curtains back shut on her bed to get changed into her clothes. As she did, it seemed the other girls were up too; their curtains opened and they began to go about their mornings. Once dressed, she sighed and opened the curtain again to put on her shoes.

“Ariadne!” Lavender called. She jumped, tilting away a little. “So is it true?! That you’re-” Lavender broke off. “Sorry,” she said, turning away. Hermione had stood, and must have been glaring daggers at the girl. Ariadne took a breath and pulled her shoes on. Hermione came over and sat down beside her.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Did you sleep okay?” Ariadne shook her head. “Did you sleep  _ at all _ ?” Another shake. “Ugh. Okay, well, you need to eat.” She nodded.

“Ron’s waiting,” she replied, simply. She couldn’t bring herself to say much. She was seriously considering using the Invisibility Cloak, but she’d still have to reveal herself downstairs, and it’d be agonizingly slow with at least one of Ron or Hermione helping her.

“Okay, let’s get going. At least it’s early, there won’t be as many people.”

If that were true, Ariadne couldn’t tell. The corridors and Great Hall were full of students, and as soon as the trio had reached the Great Hall - Ariadne virtually absorbing into Hermione with how tightly she held her hand and tried to hide - they were mobbed.

“Granger! Granger, is it true?!”

“Are you really Harry Potter?!”

The sounds around her devolved into chaos as she tried to turn away but found herself surrounded. Ron and Hermione were yelling to leave her alone, but nobody was. She felt faint, and almost fell over from that alone.

That was, until Professor McGonagall involved herself, striding down the aisle of the tables and firing two green showers of sparks into the air.

“ _ THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH _ !” she bellowed, and the crowd parted, silent. “God’s sake leave her be! Fifty points from all houses, away with you all!” Fearful of the Professor, they dispersed. Shaking, Ariadne let Hermione and Ron lead her over to an isolated spot at the table. She couldn’t bring herself to move under her own steam. McGonagall followed, kneeling behind her. “I’m sorry this has happened, Miss  _ Granger _ ,” she said, emphasising her last name to comfort her. “Unfortunately there’s little I can do, but I will help in any way you ask.” McGonagall patted her shoulder and took her leave.

In truth, Ariadne had no appetite, but eating helped distract her.

\--

Ron and Hermione accompanied her to Quidditch practice too. Just as Ariadne had expected, there were immediate questions.

“So. Is it true then? That you’re Harry Potter?!” Katie Bell asked as soon as she approached. She froze, right before Wood spoke up.

“Oi!” He yelled. “We talked about this! You can bandy about rumours on your own time. She’s clearly not up to it, leave her alone.”

Less than an hour into the awkward training session, and she wasn’t up to it either. She was sluggish and slow to react as she struggled to keep concentrated on the drills. Wood flew over after finishing another Quaffle drill, during which Ariadne hadn’t even noticed him calling her name a couple of times.

“Look, Granger. I can tell you’re distracted,” he said. “I don’t care much whether what everyone’s saying is true or not, but you clearly do. Take the day off, clear your head. No use trying to train when your mind’s elsewhere. Go on, off you go.” Ariadne nodded sullenly and descended to where Ron and Hermione were standing on the pitch amongst the light snow. In the end, they spent their Sunday at Hagrid’s, where he offered her a virtual bucket of hot chocolate before supervising her practice of the  _ bombarda  _ spell, both its standard and radial variants, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

\--

Ariadne struggled through Monday morning. After an hour of being bombarded with questions at breakfast alone, she’d been forced to nod that it was true before feigning a hurry to Herbology. She wished she hadn’t; it had only led to more questions from her peers before class, questions she refused to answer. This was getting out of control, and it was only going to get worse now that she’d hastily confirmed it to some Justin person.

Her work in Herbology was sloppy at best. Her hands shook with the trowel and got dirt all over herself and the table, and she ended up crying in Hermione’s arms, both from frustration with herself and fear, standing away from the table as Professor Sprout sorted out the semi-dangerous mess she’d made of the vampiric plants. She couldn’t remember the name, as her memory sat in a fog of terror combined with a headache.

Hermione fetched her the stress ball she’d had the week before for her arm, and she found it a bit helpful. At least she had something to take out her frustration with herself on.

Defence Against the Dark Arts had been no better. As soon as Lockhart descended the stair in his smug way, she could only remember his magic looming over her as he whispered in amazement at the lightning-bolt scar on her forehead. She tried to keep up with the lesson, but all she could catch - which frankly was all a retelling of Lockhart’s  _ The Madenning Mermaid Maladies of Gilderoy Lockhart _ \- were miscellaneous pieces of information barely worth writing down.

She was packing up her parchment and pen at the end of class, head hanging, when Lockhart spoke to her.

“Oh, and Ariadne! My office please, I need to speak with you,” he called. Ariadne flinched, before heeding the instruction.

“I’ll be down here,” Hermione whispered as Ariadne struggled with the stairs. She found her way up, entering as Lockhart closed the door behind her.

“Well,” he said. “Well well well. I had no idea! The Girl Who Lived!” he exclaimed. “Tell me everything!”

“Um-what?” she replied quietly, hardly enunciating.

“So we know what we’re saying to the press of course!” This had to be a nightmare. Ariadne pinched the back of her hand, but she remained fully conscious.  _ No no no no no no no no _ . “Oh don’t be silly, it’s not a dream. All of Britain will want to know the story of Ariadne Granger, the Girl Who Lived!”

“B-bbb-b-b-b-b-bb-b-but o-n-n-on-only Hogwarts… knows?” she mumbled. Lockhart sat down in front of her.

“Ariadne. A lot of owls went a-wing over the weekend. Parents will have opened letters today telling them all. Soon, the whole country will be buzzing.” Ariadne could hardly breathe. She hadn’t thought about that.

She hadn’t wanted to.

“Something you’ll learn, Ariadne, is that celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that. Now you can wish to ignore it as much as you want, but it will not ignore you. The longer you refuse, the worse it will be. After all, we didn’t even get your name and title right, misinformation will be running  _ rife _ !” Lockhart said. “Trust me; I have far more experience sailing the fickle and folly seas of fame, as you know. Right now, you need to take control of the narrative, or else the public will  _ not _ be kind! That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of arranging an interview with the Daily Prophet tomorrow for you.”

Ariadne was nodding before that. It had made sense before that. At  _ that _ , she choked.

“ _ What?! _ ” she exclaimed, shaking. “But-I-but-bu-bu-b-bb-b-I-I-” Her worst case scenario had just gotten worse.

“Oh come now, Ariadne! Don’t you see?! Well, no, don’t you sense?! I know you’re scared, anyone would be, but come now. Right now,  _ you _ control the narrative! You can  _ control  _ what the public says about you! You’re a smart girl, you must know by now that my books were a wee bit on the exaggerated side! Of course they were! You hold the clay, Ariadne! Don’t let someone else mould it. You only have it for so long, you can’t miss this opportunity. The stage is set, you need only write the script!” Lockhart declared, dramatically. “And if there’s things you’d rather they didn’t know? Just don’t tell them. Present your story as complete, as it is, you get to edit it!” Lockhart swung around behind his desk. “Rita Skeeter and her photographer will be here tomorrow morning, don’t worry about your Transfiguration lesson, I’ve already spoken to Minerva for you. So, best get writing, hmm?” Ariadne stood, wordlessly as he moved to open the door. He opened it and let her leave, Hermione waiting pensively at the foot of the stair, Ron at his desk. “Oh, and do have Hermione help clean you up a bit, you look ragged. They’ll want to take photos, after all. Scar  _ out _ .” Lockhart closed the door.

Ariadne fainted.

\--

“He did  _ what _ ?!” Hermione almost yelled after Ariadne recounted the discussion. She’d awoken on a sofa in the Common Room - the empty Common Room. Ron had allegedly enlisted the Twins and the rest of the Quidditch team, who had herded the house from the room when they arrived, carrying an unconscious Ariadne. She took a shaky sip of the sugary tea Ron had retrieved. “Oh Merlin. We need a plan, and we need one now. I hate it, but we need to know what you’re telling them and what you’re keeping from them.”

She didn’t sleep that night either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, my angst brain is having far too much fun with this.


	51. The Girl Who Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne’s first interaction with the Daily Prophet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lockhart’s an interesting character to write, I must say.

“Merlin, your hair really is a bird’s nest,” Hermione said as she fussed over Ariadne’s hair. “How in the world have you gotten a brush through this before?!” Ariadne allowed herself a laugh.

“I haven’t,” she chuckled. Hermione huffed and sat back down, discarding the brush.

“Ugh. Okay, time to try magic. I really wish we’d had more time for this,” she said. Cosmetics weren’t exactly Hermione’s forte, she didn’t care how she looked. “I think Sally-Anne had some of that, um, SleekEazy stuff, might help.” It was early enough that the other girls were still getting ready, so Hermione shuffled off to them - the sisters had commandeered a corner of the dorm.

“Oh, sure! What’s all this for?” Sally-Anne asked, coming over with what must have been the bottle - its top had a tiny bit of magic residue to it, no doubt a result of the substance itself.

“Ph-photos,” Ariadne replied.

“Huh. I guess Lockhart didn’t give you much warning,” Sally-Anne said. It wasn’t exactly an easy secret to keep, and the whole world would know within days, so they’d thought it okay to tell the other girls; they hadn’t spoken much about it, but the vague information was there. Ariadne shook her head as Sally-Anne brought the bottle up, unstoppering it. “Okay, I’m going to dribble a bit of this on the brush. Can’t use too much, otherwise your hair’ll be all greasy and we don’t want that.” The strange purple liquid coated the brush as she poured only a small amount onto it, before pulling the bottle back. “That should do, but I’ll leave the bottle here in case it’s not enough.” Hermione resumed her attempts, which yielded far better results. There were still catches, but in the end, Hermione seemed satisfied.

“Well, it’s tidier than mine, unlike usually,” Hermione said, pulling Ariadne’s hair back a little. “I don’t like having that scar visible, it feels wrong.”

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied. She felt exposed, but to be fair, she had been. Other than her hair, she mostly just made sure she cleaned her face; none of the girls had any makeup on them, and even if they had she’d have been against it. She tried to ignore how sick she felt from the nerves.

_ We have a plan _ , she thought to herself.  _ You’ll be okay. Like Lockhart said; control the narrative. Celebrity is as celebrity does _ .

She hated that she was using the words of known idiot Gilderoy Lockhart to reassure herself, but on this at least the man had experience. She wasn’t certain if he’d had her uniform in mind as to what she should wear, but it was what she had.

“Okay, do you want to go downstairs or shall I bring you something up?”

“Er- yes please?” Ariadne replied. She was a bit too nervous to stomach crowds for the moment, and the room Lockhart had sent a note telling her to go to was closer to Gryffindor Tower than the Great Hall anyway. 

“Okay, I’ll go get you something. Oh, mind if I take your MP3 player? I might as well record Transfiguration for you, I’m not excused.”

“Mm? O- yeah-m-thanks,” Ariadne stammered, wondering where she’d put her Snitch earrings; they weren’t quite dress code, but she realized they’d probably make a good impression. Finding them under a pouch of sweets Ron had given her the night before - mostly in case her fainting spell had been due to blood sugar, he said - she clasped them onto her ears.

It felt strange, having her hair so tidy. She hadn’t even done this for school photos at non-magical school, and it was taking all of her will just to keep from messing it up adjusting it.

A tap at the window heralded an owl; Hermes. She took the letter from him, hoping the brief burst of wind wouldn’t ruin her hair, and closed the door again.

> _ Dearest Ariadne _
> 
> _ We’re so sorry we couldn’t reply faster. With the delay in owls we can only guess how your week is going to begin; try to stay calm. Everything’s going to be all right. This was inevitable, and you’re going to get through this. _
> 
> _ The only advice we can really think of is try to keep control; rumours are going to spread quickly, don’t let them get out of hand. That Lockhart fellow is a teacher now, right? He’s dealt with his fair share of fame, even if between you and us he’s a bit of a prick, so he might have some better advice. Be careful, but see if he can help. _
> 
> _ Other than that, don’t let it get to you. You may be the Girl Who Lived, but you’re also just a kid. Don’t let it get in the way of school; your learning is more important than whatever these wizards want you to be. _
> 
> _ But most importantly,  _ **_stay safe_ ** _. Even if you have to lie. Keep yourself safe. _
> 
> _ We love you, stay safe. We wish we could be there to help. _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad xoxoxo _

She wished she had time to write a response, but she didn’t. It might as well wait until after the interview anyway, so she could tell them about that.

\--

Ariadne sat outside the room Lockhart had directed her to, squeezing her hands as she reread the glimmering notes she and Hermione had made the night before. She needed to be careful.

The door crashed open and she stuffed it back into her bag, Lockhart leaning out.

“We’re ready for you, come on in,” he said happily, taking her by the shoulder gently and leading her in. She’d never been in this room before, and it was only lightly magical; some kind of conference room hardly used. Inside stood two magical people; one with blues and greens swirling through a red film, and another with mostly yellow, green flecks floating about. In front of the mostly yellow one was a tall camera, not unlike Collin’s but significantly larger.

“Oh!” cried the one with the red film; seemingly a woman. “Oh she is marvellous!” Ariadne sat down on a chair Lockhart lead her to. “I’m Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet, don’t worry I won’t eat you. And you, well, you could only be the Girl Who Lived herself! Ariadne Granger, Gryffindor’s White Eyed Wonder!” Rita exclaimed, taking her hand suddenly and shaking it. “And speaking of, those eyes are lovely. Oh I must ask, would it be all right if I gave you a little dark eyeshadow? Just a little, to make those whites really  _ pop _ !” Ariadne shuffled a bit in her seat.

“Um, I guess?” she murmured.

“Now now, Rita, not too much. We don’t want her looking like a raccoon, now do we?” Lockhart chided.

“Gilderoy, please, you know I would  _ never _ !” Skeeter called as she quickly grabbed something. “Now dear, close your eyes.” Ariadne complied, worried. Something brushed up against her left eyelid and she flinched. “Just a tad more, I think, sorry for not warning you.” The brush returned for but a split second. “And open?” She opened her eyes. “Oh, perfect! Okay, let’s close those again so I can get your right.” Skeeter paused. “Of course, you can still sense me right now, can’t you?” The brush touched her right eyelid for a moment before being pulled back.

“Yes,” Ariadne replied, fidgeting. “I can see your magic.”

“Incredible. Perfect, perfect, stand up, stand up, let’s have some of you standing.” Ariadne hurriedly stood, unsure what to do with her cane. “Oh, just hold that straight up for the moment,” Rita said, backing up. “Oh excellent, out of the way Gilderoy. Big smile!” Ariadne complied before a blinding cone of green light washed over her for a split second. “Turn a bit, your right? Eeeeexcellent, smile!” Another flash. Rita had her pose slightly a bit, some with her cane, some without, even a number with Lockhart behind or beside her. Then some with her sitting down, her legs crossed.

“H-how-how many of these do we need?” she asked, gently.

“Not all of these are going to be used; most will be discarded, but they want a good range of choice to go on the header. Personally I think one of these group ones is a likely one; together, you and I rate the front page,” Lockhart explained.

“The front page?!”

“Your emergence is the news of the decade, Ariadne!” Skeeter called. “How could you be anything less than front-page news?!” Skeeter strode out from behind the camera. “I think that should do. Now, to the meat of the matter. For twelve years you’ve been missing! You’re the stuff of legends; the wrong legends, it would seem? How came Ariadne Granger to be known as the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter?” she asked, sitting down and tossing a glowing notebook and quill into the air. Ariadne took a breath, running over what she and Hermione had discussed.

“Harry Potter was… a fictional version of me. You see, the war had just ended, but a lot of You-Know-Who’s supporters were still, uh, around,” she began, slowly so that her stammer didn’t turn up. “Dumbledore decided that, to protect me, a false story would be told; so that any of You-Know-Who’s supporters were looking for a boy called Harry, not a girl called Ariadne.” She knew that just her identity as the Girl Who Lived was dangerous enough, let alone them knowing she was trans. That could be left for later, when she was ready.

“And the Potter name? Was that a fiction too?” Rita asked as the quill began scribbling away at immense speeds.

“Oh! Oh, no. After my birth parents were killed, I was adopted by the Grangers,” she replied. Again, technically not a lie, but it would not look good if she threw Dumbledore under the bus for the matter of the Dursleys, much as she wished to. “After that, my last name becam-be-b-be-became Granger. Sorry, I have a stammer,” she replied, blushing as her speech impediment reared its ugly head.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. And the Grangers are a Muggle family, yes?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes. It was safer, they wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“And you have a sister?” Rita looked in her other notes. “Hermione, muggleborn witch, also in your year?” Again, she nodded.

“A-ado-adopted-adoptive, obviously.”

“Of course. And your Muggle parents, what are they like?” Rita asked.

“They’re very nice!” Ariadne replied. “They’re dentists.”

“May wish to explain that one,” Lockhart whispered.

“Oh. They, uh, they take care of people’s teeth,” she added.

“Ooh, interesting. Now. One simply  _ cannot _ talk about you without mentioning your magic vision. How  _ does _ that work, Ariadne?” Ariadne shrugged.

“I don’t know exactly.” Again, not a lie, but some details were to be omitted. “I went blind very young, and ever since I’ve been able to sense magic around me. I can ‘see’ your magic core, his, theirs. I can see your camera. There’s also a little magic around the room, people kinda… shed it.”

Rita went on for what felt like hours, to the point Ariadne wondered if Lockhart had spoken to Flitwick as well. She ranged from all manner of subjects, most of which Ariadne hadn’t expected. It seemed Rita was oddly interested in her clothing choices, but was disappointed by the “prim, bookish,” wardrobe Ariadne described. Once done, she gratefully shook Rita’s hand, and took her leave with Lockhart.

“I’m glad that’s over,” she sighed as she sat back on the bench outside.

“Over? Oh no, you’ll want to appear in one or two more, people won’t like it if you just drop off the face of the earth again,” Lockhart said. “New Years, perhaps. Give them time to stew, before a more casual appearance; I know a radio presenter who’d  _ love _ to meet you. And over the holidays, I could always run another signing at Flourish and Blotts, you could sit in on that, sign some books, meet people. That’s always a good look.”

“I’ll- I’ll think about it,” Ariadne replied, dreading the weeks to come. At least Madam Pomphrey was nearly done with the Androgen Arrestor. If she had photos taken with facial hair she would die of humiliation.

“Now, a word of warning. Keep Rita on your good side. She’s known to be a bit vicious when she wants to be, I didn’t know it’d be her. For now, she likes you. Keep it that way.”

\--

After a tense but ultimately easier Charms lesson and dinner in bed, she wrote a letter home while she listened to the recordings of Transfiguration Hermione had provided.

> _ Mum and Dad _
> 
> _ (07/11/02) _
> 
> _ So much happened so quickly. Everyone knows already, they won’t leave me alone. Hermione and I have been eating in the dormitory mostly to avoid it. News has definitely reached everyone’s parents by now, apparently there were a lot of owls out over the weekend. _
> 
> _ Lockhart came to me, actually. I got revealed at his Dueling Club (don’t ask), and he’d arranged an interview with the Daily Prophet. Couldn’t really back out of it, I got your letter this morning just before it. It went well, we took a few photos - the reporter was nice, but Lockhart says I should be careful to keep her that way. She can be nasty, he says. _
> 
> _ We haven’t told them I’m trans, or how long I spent at the Dursleys. Better for public image; Hermione thinks that if I were to accuse Dumbledore of putting me at risk, it’d look bad. If anyone comes asking, don’t talk to them until you’ve read the article. Rita says it’ll probably be out tomorrow, which seems quick to me. _
> 
> _ Lockhart managed to get some copies of the photos we took. I don’t know which ones are which, but I’ve enclosed them for you. Took some time and magic to get my hair looking like that, though. _
> 
> _ He also suggested I appear publicly over the holidays - another book signing at Flourish and Blotts. I’m not sure, but I’ll think about it. Thoughts? _
> 
> _ Madam Pomphrey’s almost done with the Androgen Arrestor, she says she’ll have it ready next week! Looking forward to that, at least. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ariadne. _

Relieved, and a little calmer, she sent Hermes on his way and rolled over in her bed; it was the first sleep she’d had since Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh how I am enjoying this little twist! These chapters have been a little longer than usual, lots to cover!


	52. Emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Skeeter’s article is published and arrives at breakfast the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Deadnames, misgendering.

Ariadne was apprehensive about Wednesday morning. If Skeeter had been correct, the article would have been published that morning, and arrive at breakfast’s mail. Eight-thirty. She didn’t know if it would be easier to go down to eat before it arrived or after, but had elected for before.

Her hairbrush still had SleekEazy on it, so she’d brought it back into order much the same as she had for her interview. She should probably pay more attention to her appearance for the sake of, well, appearances, if she was going to be in the public eye, even if she couldn’t see herself. She made a mental note to look into whether there was such a thing as magic eyeshadow, if it had looked good in the photos then it might have been a good thing to invest in or learn how to cast - preferably a spell, she thought. It’d be easier to control especially as she couldn’t see herself in a mirror.

“Scar out,” she reminded herself under her breath. She might as well wear the damn thing openly. She was done being afraid.

Well, no, she wasn’t.

She was afraid of the attention. She was afraid that Diagon Alley was now a no-go-zone unless she wanted to get mobbed. She was afraid of people finding out she was trans, and that leading to a return to the bullying at primary school, memories of mirrors smashing around her filling her mind. But being afraid wasn’t going to help her.  _ Chin up _ , she thought.  _ You’re a big girl, you can take it _ , she thought as she did up her tie. She patted the knot carefully, checking it was done up.

She had never taken so much care toward how she looked until the interview. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed it, but she was willing to keep trying it for a while. She had to admit, she felt good about her appearance and that was a rarity.

“Having fun?” Hermione asked, sidling over. Ariadne was taking a lot longer than usual as she took up the never-lost butterfly necklace and considered wearing it over her tie. Probably not the best, she decided, putting it back on the dresser. She did have one of the hairclips Hermione had bought her so many years ago, the only one that hadn’t been lost, adorned with a little plastic butterfly. She carefully threaded it into her much straighter hair, using it to hold her hair away from her scar.

“Maybe,” she replied, smiling as she gently tilted her head to check the clip was holding. “Okay, I’m ready.” She held out her hand to Hermione, who took it.

“You look pretty, ‘Adne,” Hermione said. Ariadne blushed, unable to keep her smile from widening. “Come on, famous or not you need breakfast.” The pair headed down to breakfast, gathering Ron and taking a seat by the end of the table at quarter past eight. Ariadne was surprised by the more positive attention; the article hadn’t arrived yet, so it couldn’t have been due to that. Compliments for her hair seemed oddly common, and she couldn’t deny she liked that. Ariadne gratefully ate, her distance from the rest of the house just by virtue of taking a seat so far down seeming to keep most from interrupting her.

With a mouth full of bacon, Hermione squeezed her hand as the sounds of gentle hoots filled the Hall. The mail was arriving, and with it, Rita’s article. She wished she’d been able to read it - or have it read to her, since it was almost certainly not written in ink visible to her - before the full printing cycle, but it would have to do.

A roll of paper with a glittering green block on one side landed beside Hermione, as did many others. Gasps began flitting through the hall as Hermione unrolled it quickly. Ariadne turned to her.

“Here we go.  _ The Truth About the “Boy” Who Lived, by Rita Skeeter _ ,” Hermione began reciting. “ _ For over a decade, none have missed the name of Harry Potter. The legend of The Boy Who Lived. He who defeated the Dark Lord Who Must Not Be Named, who survived the Killing Curse and was left with only a lightning-bolt scar upon his forehead _ .” Ariadne cringed at the pronouns and deadname, but knew it would go away. “ _ But yet, that legend was a lie. There was never a boy named Harry Potter, who defeated the Dark Lord, but a girl named Ariadne Lily Granger.” _

_ “Those readers whose children attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry may already know this name. Ariadne Granger, the White-Eyed Wonder, Gryffindor’s blind Seeker. A young woman whose hair was, this last weekend, thrown back at a Dueling Club organized by Professor Gilderoy Lockhart to reveal a scar. A lightning bolt scar. Sources say the young woman was terrified by this reveal, fleeing the Great Hall, but by the time I met her, she’d calmed down a good deal.” _

_ “So let me sit you down and tell you all about the REAL Girl Who Lived.” _

_ “Her story begins, as we all know, in Godric’s Hollow - when she was born on July 31st, 1990, her parents James and Lily Potter were immediately the target of He Who Must Not Be Named. The Dark Lord failed to murder Ariadne, after which Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and the disarray that was the Order of the Phoenix swept away the child, fearing for her life.” _

_ “This is where the story diverges. For we were then told a false story, and in fairness to those who told it, it was done to keep the infant Ariadne safe; to lead the remaining followers of You Know Who, such as the infamous Sirius Black, along a false trail. After all, they were not looking for a girl called Ariadne, but a boy called Harry.” _

_ “Ariadne was also kept from wizarding society for this same reason; as a child, she would not have comprehended the importance of her being hidden, and as such was adopted out to a loving Muggle family of dentists (they take care of Muggles’ teeth); for whom she became Ariadne Granger to her now-sister Hermione. As she lost her sight at an early age, she was well-supported, and naturally developed the ability to see magic as colours - even Ariadne does not know how this came to be, but it has served her well as Gryffindor’s Seeker. Due to the magic of the Golden Snitch, she is an extremely capable player, even if there is the occasional near miss with the ground _ .”

Ariadne noticed that there were people gathering around, also listening and probably waiting for Hermione to finish so she could be asked a dozen questions. McGonagall was hovering, most likely intending to moderate.

“ _ For her years at Hogwarts, Ariadne had intended to keep this status as the Girl Who Lived a secret. However, fate played its cards against her, and revealed her to the hundreds of students gathered at Lockhart’s Dueling Club. And as such, I was granted the distinct pleasure of meeting her and bringing her story to you all. _

_ Yesterday, I awaited her arrival with baited breath. And I was not disappointed. With a cane, in walked a lovely young witch, wavy black hair down to her shoulders, and pure white eyes. I am glad to say it’s not all looks; those beautiful pearlescent eyes lie before an immensely capable mind for a twelve year old girl. She and her sister are star pupils, praised immensely by the staff at Hogwarts. She has not let her blindness stop her from studying, far from it. She has collaborated with Charms Master Professor Filius Flitwick to produce a magical ink that her readings are provided in and that she takes notes in - using a calligraphy pen passed down to her from her adoptive grandmother. She may need that cane you see to navigate most spaces, but on a broom she is phenomenal. _ ” Hermione took a breath. “Oh my word this goes on for three more pages.” Ariadne jumped at that information. “I’ll um, I’ll summarize…” she said, clearly noticing the crowd listening. “She goes on to discuss your favourite classes, mentions some of your favourite Muggle literature, explains what braille is… and then a page and a half about your clothes. She seems to think you’re a bit stuffy and could do with a wardrobe upgrade.” Ariadne burst into laughter. Of all the things the wizarding press could have devoted a page and a half to, her lack of style wasn’t exactly scathing. She wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the wizarding world dissecting her fashion, but at least they didn’t want to dissect  _ her _ .

Noticing Hermione finishing and Ariadne smiling to herself, one of the people nearby stepped forward - a first-year boy from Hufflepuff, if she recalled correctly.

“Miss Granger, Miss Granger!” he exclaimed. “This-this is amazing! Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asked. Ariadne folded in on herself a little.

“I-I didn’t want people to treat me differently,” she said.

“Oh,” the boy replied, taken aback. “Sorry!” he disappeared into the crowd. A few more stepped forward.

“Can I get your autograph?” asked a girl from Ravenclaw, quickly.

“Um-” Ariadne paused, thinking about how many people were around.

“A lot of them have paper,” Ron whispered in her ear.

“Um, I um, I don’t think I have enough ink?” she said, diplomatically.

“I brought a quill!” someone called.

“N-no, that’s not the problem. I ca-can’t-can’t see normal ink,” she said, moving her head to appear to look around at them. 

“Oh. Right.”

A thought struck her. “Maybe another day though? When I have some more ink to spare?” After all, Lockhart had said she needed to have casual appearances, she might as well oblige them.

“Okay!” a bunch of them said, beginning to move.

“Saturday, maybe? I kinda need the ink during the week, sorry.” It was partially a stall and partially true. She needed to actually figure out a signature, she’d just been writing her name on forms. Not all had left, and seemingly had other questions.

“Ariadne! Ariadne,” one of them said. “What did you do with your hair? It looks really nice!”

“Oh! Thanks,” Ariadne said, running a hand through it and blushing again, smiling. “Sally-Anne had some SleekEazy I borrowed, I-I-I normally can’t even get a brush through it!” she chuckled, which was met with a bit of a giggle from what seemed to be a small group of  _ fans _ . McGonagall stepped forward.

“My apologies, students, but I need to speak with Miss Granger here on a much less public level if that’s all right Ariadne? I don’t mean to cut this impromptu interview short so harshly if you’d rather continue,” McGonagall asked gently.

“That’s okay! Sorry,” Ariadne replied, apologizing to the gathered students. The children dispersed as McGonagall sat down.

“I’d say you handled that interview quite well. Gilderoy showed you the ropes, I presume?” Ariadne nodded. “I will say, it is a good thing Miss Skeeter didn’t attempt to verify that little story; Professor Dumbledore would not have known it.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Ariadne said.

“Oh no, don’t apologize. But next time you have to miss a class for this, see if you can’t get him to give us earlier notice, would you? He only told me yesterday morning right before class.”

“He said he’d already told you the night before?” Ariadne replied, anxiously.

“If he said that, then he was misleading you. The first I knew was yesterday morning.” McGonagall patted her on the shoulder. “But that aside, do try to enjoy yourself. I’m sure fame has a silver lining. You look lovely, by the way, you’ve done well with your hair. Perhaps your sister should take notes,” McGonagall said happily. “I jest, Hermione. Your hair looks fine the way it is.” McGonagall stood. “And if you should need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Remember, you’re representing Gryffindor and Hogwarts now.” McGonagall began to walk away.

“Professor?” Ariadne said.

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“D-d-d-d-do-d-do you know of a spell that could um, that I could use to put on eyeshadow? Rita said it looked good but I can’t put it on and know how much I put on,” she asked hurriedly.

“Hmm. Cosmetics are not my area of expertise but let me see… you might try  _ pulverio umbra _ ? Fairly simple eyeshadow spell as I recall. Twist your wand pointing it toward your face, the length you twist determines how much. You’ll only be wanting a little bit, I presume. It’s mundane eyeshadow afterward, so you’ll want to take it off with a damp tissue or something. Go ahead and try it, I can tell you if you get it wrong.”

Ariadne nodded and took out her wand, pointing it up toward her face. She pointed it away again for a moment.

“Pulverio Umbra?”

“That’s right.” Ariadne returned her wand to point at her face.

“ _ Pulverio Umbra _ ,” she incanted, twisting her wand a smidge. A green wave found her eyelids and smothered them briefly, before coming away. “Did it work?”

“Perfectly. Now, remember to take that off later, otherwise it’ll be all over your pillow. I learnt that the hard way as a student. I really must go, have a good day Miss Granger,” McGonagall replied, taking her leave.

Ariadne’s day went surprisingly well. Most questions had been answered by the article, and she found a great many classmates introducing themselves. Even a couple of first-year Slytherin students had taken an interest, to the dislike of Draco Malfoy. She was sure Draco would have his own attitude to share shortly enough. Quidditch practice was enjoyable, the Twins jokingly hassling her but never crossing the line.

The next day, an answer to her letter arrived.

> _ Dearest Ariadne _
> 
> _ Hermes arrived early so we went and got a copy, excellent timing. It would have been better to have more time, but if your hand was forced, then oh well. Must make do with what we have. _
> 
> _ It’s good to see the magical world likes you! You look beautiful, the paper used one of just you standing with your cane. We love what you’ve managed to pull off with your hair, it looks wonderful. Maybe we should play with that a bit over the holidays. Is there a way to make one look like a Muggle photo? It’d be nice to frame one and not have to worry about guests. _
> 
> _ Your news is all over Diagon though, so maybe it’d be best to stay home over the holidays. Either that or we could try to employ that Invisibility Cloak of yours - which we notice you took to school, we hope you’re not getting up to anything unsavoury with it.  _
> 
> _ You said Professor Lockhart wanted to do a signing with you, we’d like to talk to him about that if you’re wanting to do it. Just to set down some rules, that sort of thing. And if you’re going to be making public appearances out of school, we should probably get you some good clothes for it - we should see if we can find a nice dress for you, maybe pull some money out of Gringotts if we need to. _
> 
> _ That’s great news on the Androgen Arrestor! Keep us posted. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad. _
> 
> _ P.S: With all this chaos we forgot to tell you. Pass it on to Hermione; we spoke to Arthur Weasley and after some magic-assisted renovations to the fireplace, we’re connected to the Floo Network now! The name is Dentists’ Chair, Arthur said it needed to be unique. The security measures are the same as for The Burrow, we’ll tell you girls the password when you get home next week. _

That wasn’t the only letter to arrive.

She had fan mail.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was going to go over the rest of the term, but that would have been oh so long. Divided it up into two.  
> Oh the difference between how Rita comes at canon!Harry - with the pre-existing idea that he’s attention seeking - and how she comes at Ariadne; wanting to know more about the little girl and have the fame of being the first person to interview the Girl Who Lived.


	53. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne must endure the rest of term as a celebrity before finally leaving for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy week, so don’t be expecting my 5-chapters-in-2-days output of the weekend xD

Ariadne counted out the stack of invisible letters, refusing to open them. Or rather, she stacked them as she counted them, the owls had deposited them in front of her in a haphazard pile, not a stack.

A total of 28, not including the letter from her parents she’d been reading as the pile had quietly accumulated. She’d gone to retrieve the envelope before noticing it was buried. Every single one was obviously addressed and written in mundane ink, as she couldn’t sense any of them, and she didn’t want to know how long some of the fatter ones would be.

“Um, Hermione? Do any of these say who sent them?” she asked. She didn’t want to open them, but if any of them were important she needed to know.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione replied, sounding like she was flitting through them. “No, none of them. All of them are just addressed to you.”

“O-oh no,” Ariadne muttered. “Literally anyone in the world can send mail straight to me.” She hadn’t thought about that.

“Uh-oh… Lockhart  _ must _ know how to deal with that?” Hermione replied.

“Does he? He was having me help reply to it all for detention that night Mrs. Norris was Petrified,” Ron said. Ariadne exhaled dramatically, beginning to put letters in her bag.

“Good thing I don’t have to carry books in here,” she said.

She was lucky Hogwarts only allowed certain owls entry at times outside mail hour, which she discovered the next morning as the number of fan letters reached triple digits.  _ This _ was a pile, spilling onto the floor as Ariadne and her friends sorted through them. At least some of them seemed to be written in various magical inks, already bleeding into the parchment - mostly novelty inks, Hermione commented, some of which had bright colours and animations or simply glittered. Her bag weighed heavily on her shoulders as she carried it to Defence Against the Dark Arts - she’d barely been able to cram them all in, and had to dig through it to reach her pen, parchment and ink vial. At least she’d left the ones from the day before in a drawer in the dorm, but she didn’t think this would all fit in there either.

After the class - which had been a reading of several chapters of  _ Magical Me _ , and Lockhart had wasted no time in basking in the glow of narration when he remembered Ariadne needed it read  _ to _ her - Ariadne left her bloated bag in her chair and probed her way to the front desk.

“P-Professor Lockhart?” she said.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” he replied.

“I was- h- I got.. How do you deal with mail?” she asked hurriedly. “I got… um, over a hundred letters this morning and I can’t read any of them. It’s a hassle here but w-w-w-w-we absolutely can’t have a hhh-hundred owls dropping off mail in a non-magical suburb.”

“Oh good lord, is  _ that  _ what’s in your bag? I thought you had a few, but I didn’t stay for long, lots to do. Merlin Ariadne, even I never received over a hundred letters in  _ one day _ . Sit down, sit down.” Ariadne felt for a stool and perched herself on it as Hermione and Ron hovered pensively. “Now, I made the mistake in my younger years of answering my fan mail - and make no mistake that is almost certainly  _ fan  _ mail in your bag; I didn’t get nearly as much as you, maybe a letter or two a week to begin with. So, I answered them. I answered their questions about my hair and smile, and gladly sent the owls off. Then I got more. And more. Fame is a fickle partner, and once I realized it was far too much to respond to, I’d already set the precedent. So instead, I started replying with a signed photo, and even that can be too much, as Mister Weasley here well knows.” Lockhart chuckled. “Now, Merlin knows how much the printing alone would cost for yours, and I don’t know you  _ could _ set that unfortunate precedent even if you wanted to, there’s just too many of them.”

“Professor, is there any way to… redirect them? Have them sent somewhere else?” Hermione asked. “As Ariadne said, we can’t have them turning up at home over the holidays. Hermes is bad enough on his own, let alone over a hundred owls possibly every day.”

“Oh…” Lockhart said, sounding as if he was grimacing. “You know what, leave it to me. I’ll speak with the Department of Avian Communications for you, have a holding box set up at the Diagon Alley post office. They’ll do the filtering for you, anything important or from friends gets sent on to you, anything else gets held. I’ll need a list of specific people allowed to send directly to you. Next year, when you’re allowed, you might want to have it moved to Hogsmeade’s post office, so you can retrieve them on your weekends. Fan mail is a useful resource, I suggest you read a few, it tells you what your fans want to hear. Even if you don’t answer  _ mail _ , you can tailor your public responses to cover the more common questions.” It seemed to Ariadne that Lockhart was enjoying having something to teach; Merlin knew Lockhart was a useless Defence teacher, but at least he knew how to handle  _ this _ .

“H-how much will that cost?” Ariadne asked.

“Oh the holding box? You’ll need a big one for now, so probably a few Galleons a month. I’ll pass on their reply to you, it’ll explain all the details. It’ll take a few days though, so best be prepared for more of this.” Lockhart said, already scratching away with a quill. Ariadne left him some instructions; who to let into the box, who to filter, that sort of thing.

Fan mail was not her only disruption, it seemed, and Ariadne was glad to spend the time before dinner that day with Professor Flitwick instead of in the open; while she appreciated the somewhat more pleasant than she was expecting attention, mostly girls wanting to talk about what she wore, giving suggestions of which she took notes and some first-years even wanting to imitate her - at which she was mortified, if she was honest - it was running her ragged and she was glad to have the relative quiet of the dorm.

“Oh my  _ god _ how many letters did you get?!” Kellah exclaimed as Ariadne tipped her bag out onto the bed.

“Assuming we counted them accurately, one hundred and thirty two,” Hermione replied. Ariadne felt around the inside of the normally empty drawer she’d been keeping the letters from the day before in; no dice. There was very little room left, it was not going to be enough. Frustrated, she began piling them under her bed.

“Aren’t you going to read them?” Sally-Anne asked as she lay down on her own bed, relaxing.

“N-nn-no. Too many,” Ariadne replied between handfuls of parchment. A thought struck her, Lockhart’s advice ringing through her mind. She took up the few whose magical ink was bleeding, thinking. “Maybe just these ones, the ones I can see,” she thought aloud. Ariadne began stacking the ones she could see - which varied in legibility - beside her pillow and once she was done, tore one open. Its address was written in a slightly blurry purple-magicked ink.

“What does it say?” Sally-Anne asked, sitting up.

“U-um..” Ariadne unfolded it and read a few lines. She didn’t have to tilt her head, but she realized it would probably seem unsettling to watch her read it without ‘looking.’ “I-it-it’s… asking about music? Oh. I mentioned my MP3 player in the interview, Rita didn’t say much about it but they want to know what my favourite non-magical bands are and if there’s any magic bands I like. Their son likes to play the guitar and wanted to know.”

_ Well that was nice _ , she thought.  _ I’ll have to remember to mention it next time _ . Next time. There was going to be a next time. It wasn’t a hypothetical, it was inevitable. Yet another thing she’d hardly thought about

She put that one aside and opened the next. She found that not all were from ‘fans,’ but some from businesses. Madam Malkin of Diagon Alley had even offered to sponsor her should Ariadne choose to model some of her newer ranges in public appearances over her holidays, apologizing for having to use a novelty ink. An interesting possibility, to be sure, she thought, but she was a little disturbed by the offer. Did she have  _ that much _ potential influence?

The other girls in the dorm seemed to think she should take the offer, but she filed it away to consider later. She’d have to ask her parents what they thought. Wizarding fashion was… eccentric, so she’d heard, and she wasn’t sure she wanted such fashion scrutiny so quickly.

\--

Friday came by, along with another small heap of mail - eighty two this time. Another few were magical, so she made a note to read those and stuffed the rest under her bed again. Her suggestion of giving the autographs requested of her had not been forgotten, as Saturday arrived and she was mobbed at breakfast  _ as well as _ the obscene amount of mail waiting for her; it seemed the wait had given the dozen interested time to bring another dozen friends. Luckily, Ariadne had managed to find some time to figure out a signature - she simply wrote her name a bit more hurriedly than usual but put a lightning bolt on the tail of the lowercase g in Granger. Lockhart, it seemed, approved and playfully asked for one himself and told her she was doing well. He had not, however, come to specifically get an autograph, he’d come to drop off the response from the Department of Avian Communications he’d transcribed into magical ink for her. The box would cost 2 galleons a month - payment organized with Gringotts, which she signed off on - and she had named her parents as able to retrieve mail from it as well, if only to make sure it didn’t pile up during term.

After sending the authorizations, she was glad to have something to do that didn’t allow for intrusions into her life; Madam Pomphrey had requested her presence in her office. She took the most indirect route she could, fiddling with her pockets in a combination of nerves and excitement, to avoid delays, and soon found herself knocking on Pomphrey’s door-frame.

“Ah, Miss Granger, excellent timing. Come in, close the door would you?” Pomphrey said, her magic glimmering from behind her desk. Ariadne stepped in, closed the door and felt around for the chair before sitting down. “How’s your week been, young lady? I’m aware your secret identity was revealed, are you holding up all right?”

“I-I’m okay? It’s stressful, I’m not- I’m not good with people,” Ariadne replied, twiddling her fingers.

“You’ll be all right, you’re a resilient kid. So, I’m sure you’d rather I get straight to the point, so I will.” Pomphrey put something down on the desk. “This here is the Androgen Arrestor. I’ll make sure there’s a dose on your bedside table every morning. Normally I would have it sent to you at breakfast but given your recent publicity problems, I thought it best to make sure you can take it in private. Before you leave for your holidays I’ll have a case of them for the christmas period, make sure you come pick them up.” Ariadne nodded, beaming. “Now, before I give this to you, I do need to confirm that you understand what it will do and what possible side effects there are. Given your grades, I assume you read the sheet I gave you carefully?”

“Yes, ma’am. The potion will cease the production of testosterone in my body, with the goal of preventing masculine puberty changes. It will not bring about a female puberty. It is possible I may see height gain from it as a side effect, and being on it for too long - multiple years usually - without a primary sex hormone could result in reduced bone density due to a lack of the usual increased uptake of calcium during puberty,” Ariadne recited. Pomphrey laughed.

“I was going to re-tell them, but the demonstration works too. Well, if you’d like to, I’m happy for you to take this now,” Pomphrey said, sliding something forward on the desk. Ariadne gingerly felt for it, and eventually found the glass vial. She gingerly brought it closer to herself, before carefully unstoppering it. The liquid had a light blue hue to it, which fizzed a little. She faced back up at Pomphrey, an unspoken question in her face. “Go ahead, Miss Granger.”

Ariadne downed the vial.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The potential side effects were pretty much copied from the documentation I was given for my own blocker, so ye.


	54. Merciful Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers head home for the Christmas holidays, to give Ariadne a well-needed break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I may have been getting all these dates wrong, so I’ve adjusted them to be accurate. It’s November in-universe, not October.  
> I don’t actually know anything about being famous so I don’t know if how much fan mail she got was accurate or way out of proportion xD

Ariadne hummed to herself in joy as she once again took an indirect route to Gryffindor Tower.

“Fortuna Major!” she said eagerly to the Fat Lady portrait, which swung open to let her past. She skipped over the ledge and quickly sat down beside Hermione on the sofa by the fireplace.

“Hermione! Hermione!” she exclaimed, bouncing a bit.

“Hey ‘Adne! Did it go well?” Hermione replied.

“Yeah!” Ariadne held up the empty vial. “Took my first dose of the Androgen Arrestor. It didn’t really have a taste, which is weird.”

“Oh wow! That’s amazing Ariadne!” Ariadne nodded.

“I’m gonna go write to Mum and Dad, what are you up to?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve been revising the History of Magic work we did. You um, you sat on some of my notes,” Hermione replied, leaning over. Ariadne stood, hearing the parchment shuffle as she did.

“Sorry!” she exclaimed. Hermione, however, was laughing. “What?”

“The ink wasn’t dry, it’s all over your butt now!” The two descended into cackles as Ariadne felt the back of her skirt and was indeed met with the dampness of mundane ink imprinted on her. Once the pair had gotten over their laughter from the humbling of the new celebrity, Ariadne went upstairs to pen a letter - after replacing her skirt, of course.

> _ Mum and Dad, _
> 
> _ (11/11/02) _
> 
> _ My week has gone better than I thought it would - although I made the mistake of telling some people I’d sign things for them this morning so now my wrist aches. I didn’t realize I’d get so much mail - I’ve received over two hundred owls this week alone, so we spoke to Professor Lockhart and we’ve arranged for most of my mail (except for specific senders like you and important matters) to be diverted to a collection box at the Diagon Alley post office. I also said you guys could collect from it as well, if you don’t mind doing that occasionally during next term? It might fill up. It’s box number 8, just tell them who you are and they’ll let you in. Third years are allowed to visit Hogsmeade (a village nearby Hogwarts) on weekends so next year I’ll move it to the Hogsmeade post office and collect them myself. _
> 
> _ Not all of it was fan mail (I get fan mail now, it’s very weird). There have been a few people with business propositions we’ll have to go over when I get home (including one from Madam Malkin’s, which might take care of what I wear in public). _
> 
> _ I haven’t talked to Professor Lockhart about his signing idea yet, but I think it might be a good idea. I’d rather it be after new-years though, having so much attention is really stressful and I’d like to take those few weeks off from being the ‘Girl Who Lived’ and just be me for a bit. _
> 
> _ Some good news; I just started the Androgen Arrestor today! I’ll be bringing a box of it home for the holidays, it’s just a little vial of potion I have to take daily. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ P.S: This is the signature I was using. Does it look okay, should I change it? _

\--

Ariadne was glad to find that her final week of term went smoother than the prior one. Every morning, she dutifully drank the potion sitting on her bedside table and went to breakfast. She still got some attention, but it seemed most were more concerned with their own holidays now. Draco Malfoy had started his own little complaints about her, calling her a coward among other things. She ignored it; Draco only really held any sway in Slytherin, and even then only for his wealthy family connections. The mail had finally ceased to be so fruitful, and she was left in peace while her parents promised to empty the box every week - they’d also asked if they wanted her to open them, which she was still undecided on. They said they liked her signature, which was nice.

Once again, Ariadne supported Hufflepuff in their match against Slytherin on Tuesday, and found that some students imitated her. She wasn’t sure if she liked that, since she was only basing it on how it affected Gryffindor’s chances of winning the season, but it was nice to spend the day watching a Quidditch match as best she could and not being the centre of attention. However, to her distaste, Slytherin won easily, two hundred and thirty to fifty after Malfoy caught the Snitch.

On the final Thursday, she went to the Hospital Wing after dinner with Hermione, and collected her holiday supply of the Androgen Arrestor; it was a relatively heavy box, but Pomphrey assured her she didn’t need to worry about any of the vials smashing - the box was enchanted for just that purpose, which explained why Ariadne could see the padding when she opened it. Ron was staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, as were the rest of the Weasley children; there had been some problems at the Burrow which meant it was better for them to stay at Hogwarts for the moment. The girls had wanted to suggest staying at their home, but they simply didn’t have the space to house the entire Weasley horde.

Not only that, but Ginny was avoiding Ariadne, it seemed. She was perpetually anxious, her magic continuing to shudder near-constantly. Ariadne remembered how she’d gone on about the Boy Who Lived’s disappearance during their stay and hoped she didn’t feel too awkward about it with the new context.

All that aside, after wishing the assorted Weasleys a good holiday, Ariadne found herself and Hermione aboard the Hogwarts Express the next morning with little difficulty, aside from lugging her heavy trunk down to the train - it was packed with letters, and she hoped it didn’t pop open. Most people were more interested in going home and didn’t pay her much mind. She did however lock the door to their compartment, just in case. In the end, it hadn’t been necessary, and they found themselves stepping out onto King’s Cross Station to their parents without incident.

“That’s a big box you’ve got on top of there, is that..?” Valerie asked, after releasing Ariadne from perhaps the most protective hug she’d ever had from her adoptive mother. Even if she wasn’t saying it, the events of the last few weeks had her worried for her daughter.

“Mhmm!” Ariadne hummed. “Androgen Arrestor potion, enough for the holidays plus a few extra just in case,” she said.

“Oh good. And that’s just the uh, the blocker equivalent, not the hormone thing, the estrogen one is later right?”

“Yep.” Valerie took Ariadne’s trolley, letting her use her cane. “Madam Pomphrey’s still making that one.” After helping to haul her trunk up into the boot of the car, Ariadne put the box of vials on top and got in the back seat with Hermione, where Hermes’ cage was hanging between them. Once the doors were closed, Ariadne heard Valerie slump in her seat. “Okay. We do need to talk about all the  _ other stuff _ .” Ariadne sat up. “But not right now. You just got home, we’ll go over everything tomorrow.” The engine started, and Ariadne sat back and relaxed into the seat as they drove back home.

She was glad to have some time to just be Ariadne Granger again. She didn’t remember any of the events that had made her the Girl Who Lived, she’d only been a year old. But now she was saddled with a world of ceaseless attention because of it, things that had never even been known to her before Professor McGonagall had first arrived. She’d never needed more context on her being an orphan, she’d been happy to live as the adopted daughter to the Grangers and nothing more.

The history that had led to every tiny aspect of her life had only brought her what she had never asked for after her reintroduction to her parents’ world. She didn’t want to be famous, she didn’t  _ want _ people constantly prying into her life, wanting to pay her to wear certain things in public appearances like she was a walking billboard. Being a witch was one thing, being a  _ famous _ one was not what she had wanted.

But she had to play the cards she was dealt. And the card she had been dealt was a dark wizard leaving a lightning-bolt on her forehead.

\--

The next morning, Ariadne made sure she took a vial from the box and downed it as usual - she’d been on the Arrestor for about a week, but she didn’t feel any different. Then again, she realized, that was probably the point. After breakfast, her parents promised it would be the only day completely commandeered by her celebrity until after New Years - with the exception of when Lockhart was to visit to discuss the signing. They started by first sorting out her letters; Ariadne sorted out the ones she could read by category, between fan mail and important. Meanwhile, Dennis took the Floo connection - which Ariadne hadn’t even remembered was there until she went to probe her way past the fireplace and found it larger than she recalled - to Diagon with a large bag in order to empty Ariadne’s holding box.

“Oh, the password is Peppermint Floss, girls. Now, I will ask that for now Hermione speak for both of you when coming home, we didn’t realize when we were naming it that saying “dentists” clearly could be a problem for Ariadne, that little bit on the end could be a stammer catch, right?” Dennis said before he left. Ariadne nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that. We’ll talk to Arthur when he’s not so busy at the Muggle Artifacts Office about changing it to something more accessible for you.” With that, Dennis stepped into the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder, and spoke himself to Diagon Alley.

The fan mail pile was much bigger than the important one. One letter had been from Gringotts, offering to have the vault re-headed under the Granger name and for her parents to be named as custodians, which apparently Dennis and Valerie had already received a duplicate of. In addition to Malkin’s, she had offers of discounts to a number of stores; the store which she’d bought her earrings from which had offered both a discount  _ and _ similar sponsorship after having almost immediately sold out of a number of items just from her picture in the Prophet alone, Whizz Hard Books and Obscurus Publishing had sent letters she could read, while Hermione and Valerie sorted through what she couldn’t.

It was, unfortunately, not long before they had to add a ‘creepy’ pile. It wasn’t big, but it was enough for Ariadne to be a little uneasy about how the press might treat her in her later adolescence and adulthood. Dennis’ re-emergence from the fireplace with a roar and a plume of orange and yellow flame, which Ariadne had been told was green to everyone else, added another huge heap to the to-be-sorted pile, with luckily a large percentage of which Ariadne could read. Many had bled pretty badly in their time in the box, but most were still legible.

“Congratulations Ariadne, you’ve sold Diagon out of most magical inks. That stationery shop we got your other stuff from had to put a sign up,” Dennis said, emptying the bag. “All right, you take what you can sense and then I’ll get to sorting what you can’t.” Ariadne dutifully picked out what she could, adding them to her little pile. She felt guilty, making her family take so much time out of their day to sort through  _ her  _ mail, but they were the only ones she trusted reading it.

In the end, their efficient but time-consuming operation had culminated in one immense pile of fan mail a while after lunch, which Hermione was sorting into further categories citing Lockhart’s advice and telling Ariadne what topics they covered. The most common topics included the largest, clothing, including both questions and advice, followed by muggle life and what her childhood had been like, what colours various things were to her and her thoughts on wizarding society if she’d been raised non-magically. Music was also less frequent, but Ariadne wanted to address it later as well. Once Hermione had finished taking notes for her, she’d helped put the letters into some old moving boxes and taken them to the garage. The business proposals had been put into a list.

“Hooo, bloody hell that’s a lot of mail. I can see why you got that box!” Dennis exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Valerie said. “Okay, let’s go through these ones then,” she sighed, crashing down onto the sofa as Ariadne stretched and sat at the dinner table. “Number one, Madam Malkins. Wants to pay you a sponsorship of between fifty and one hundred galleons for each public appearance you make if you wear something from her store - not your uniform - as well as the same for if you appear in a photo in the Prophet doing so. Yes, no, maybe so?”

“Maybe. It might be good to try that for the signing with Lockhart? Plus, if his last one is anything to go off, there’ll be photos for the Prophet as well, so both happen,” Ariadne replied, thinking about it. “We’d have to see what she has.”

Ultimately, it took the rest of the afternoon to come to decisions on the offers, and Ariadne collapsed onto her bed with music playing on her CD player, exhausted. Lockhart would be visiting closer to Christmas, but for the rest of the year, she was free.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there’s no Polyjuice plot, it seemed only fair to give lil’ ‘Adne a break.  
> Notice anything that hasn’t happened? ;)


	55. Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne gets a little more advice than she’d expected or bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a lil’ busy lately, it’s funny how varied one’s output can be.  
> TW: Mental abuse & trauma

**Monday 13th of December, 2002**

It had been three weeks of calm since Ariadne had had to deal with her public identity. For the first time in a little while, she felt ordinary again. She felt like herself. Her hair had long since returned to its messy tangles and clumps, and she cared not whether it covered her scar.

She was home. In the home that had been a safe haven to her after five years of hell. Where she had first felt she had a family. Where she had first been herself as a little seven year old girl, twirling about in a skirt, in secret, in Hermione’s room. Where Hermione had first called her Ariadne Lily Granger.

As such, she loathed the invasion that was going to be Gilderoy Lockhart’s visit that day to discuss a signing they were thinking of holding after New Years. For the first time since Hermione’s eleventh birthday, her dirty laundry would be dragged into her living room. It hadn’t seemed imaginary when there was a pile of her mail on the carpet - which there had been every weekend - but now it definitely felt real. It wasn’t contained to Hogwarts anymore.

“We really need to get you some SleekEazy, Ariadne, at least for public stuff, your hair is pretty much untameable without it,” Valerie said as Ariadne sat at the table with a well-needed soothing cup of tea. Lockhart was late by a few minutes by now, he’d said he’d be there by one o’clock. It was as Ariadne took a final mouthful of the tea when there was a snapping noise outside and a knock at the door. Dennis quickly went and opened the door.

“Ah, Professor Lockhart, yes? Come in,” he said.

“Oh, please, my friends call me Gilderoy. But yes, it is I,” Lockhart replied as he stepped in. “And you must be Mister Granger? It’s wonderful to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you. I must say it is nice to spend time in a Muggle house again, my family lived in one not unlike this before I went to Hogwarts.”

“It’s good to meet you too,” Dennis replied cordially. “Were your parents, uh, Muggles?”

“My father was, yes. Unfortunately neither of my sisters got my mother’s magic, both ended up Squibs. Such a shame, Ashleen would have made a wonderful witch,” Lockhart replied. “Always dressed up as one at Halloween though! Mave didn’t much care for it, I believe she’s working as a… the title escapes me, but she works in a hotel. Merlin, I haven’t spoken to either of them in… god knows how long. But enough of me, my story’s been told a thousand times, it’s Ariadne’s we’re here for.” Dennis laughed lightly.

“All right, through here please. Valerie, Gilderoy Lockhart, Gilderoy, Valerie Granger, my wife,” Dennis said, bringing Lockhart through the door and into the living room.

“A pleasure, Mrs. Granger. Good to see you again Ariadne, Hermione. Uh, may I?”

“Sure, sit down,” Valerie replied, sitting down herself while Ariadne kept leaning on the kitchen bench facing them. “So, we’re told you have a.. a proposal for our daughter?” Ariadne could hear the protectiveness in Valerie’s voice; she knew Lockhart had pushed Ariadne into the first interview, and had been less than happy with that act.

“Yes,” Lockhart began. “So, as you know, I run the occasional book signing at Flourish and Blotts; usually after releases like the one I ran for my autobiography  _ Magical Me _ . Now, that is still in its publishing run, selling well, so I had planned to run a second signing over the Hogwarts holidays now I have the opportunity. I thought it a generous opportunity to extend my invitation to young Ariadne here, for her to sit in as it were. It wouldn’t be a solo appearance, and as such hopefully a dip into the shallow end so she can learn to swim the proverbial seas of celebrity with myself as a guiding hand.”

“And what exactly would such an event entail, what would Ariadne’s obligations be?” Dennis asked.

“Oh, nothing too strenuous. Meet some people, make conversation, that sort of thing. In fact, it may be worth asking Filius for some extra magical ink, that way Ariadne could take part in the signing itself. I’m sure there’d be plenty of interest in having books signed by both myself and the Girl Who Lived, and as I understand it you’ve already had a small taste of signings?” Lockhart replied, his magic turning slightly to Ariadne, who nodded, remembering the Saturday. “It might be wise to only announce Ariadne’s presence a day or two beforehand, just to make sure people might have conflicting plans, that sort of thing, we don’t want to swamp the girl.” Lockhart laughed as Ariadne came around to the sofa and sat down.

“Does that sound okay, ‘Adne?”

“It-it’s basically just what that second-to-last week at Hogwarts was like, I-I think,” she replied. “I think so?”

“When precisely would this be?” Valerie asked, getting up. “Oh, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh yes please, one sugar? I’m thinking the first Sunday of next year, the fifth.”

\--

The discussion carried on for over an hour, during which rules were set and plans were made. After a while, with everything written down in magical ink, Lockhart stepped through the Floo and back to Hogwarts - probably not a public Floo, Ariadne thought. As her parents promised that evening to write up responses to the relevant proposals - Madam Malkins’, etc - and put them past her before sending them, Ariadne set about going to bed. Despite her nervousness, nothing had gone badly, and she was glad that it was going to be a far more moderated experience than the previous intrusions 

She had just settled down and rolled onto her side in the bed when there was another cracking noise. Not unlike the one Lockhart’s Apparation outside had been accompanied by.

What it was not accompanied by, was Lockhart.

What suddenly stood upon her bed was at most three feet tall by the placement of its magical core, which was silvery and refined. She shot to sit, pulling her wand from the bedside table and pointing it at whoever or whatever this was. The silver magic core jumped back, whimpering.

“Ariadne Granger?” it asked in a high-pitched voice. “Such an honour it is.”

“Who-wha-wh--wh-wha-who are you?!” Ariadne asked, breathing heavily.

“Dobby, ma’am, Dobby the house-elf,” Dobby replied, keeping his distance.

“N--n-non-not to be rude or anything, but this is my bedroom… and it’s at least ten o’clock. This isn’t a great time for elves to be visiting,” she replied, slightly horrified by the intrusion. However, the girls had read about elves, or house-elves as they were more commonly called. She and Hermione were both less than pleased with what they’d read, with even the standards given by the Ministry being akin to slavery - standards that were almost certainly not followed by many. There were those who contested the prevailing beliefs on elvish slavery, that it had been forced upon them and the magical contracts binding them had not been consensual, followed by centuries of cultural erasure and propaganda.

“Oh-oh-yes ma’am, Dobby understands. It’s just that… Dobby has come to tell you… it  _ is _ difficult, ma’am. Dobby wonders where to begin,” the elf said, shifting on his feet. Ariadne slowly put her wand back onto the bedside table. She span slightly, hanging her legs off the bed to face him.

“Wh-w--why don’t you sit down?” she said, offering to let him sit beside her.

“Sit down?” Dobby mumbled. “S-ss-s-s-s-sit down?” Before she knew it, Dobby was crying, wailing.

“Nononono-nnn-nonono- please don’t cry! Hermione’s going to bed just upstairs, I-I-I-I-I didn’t mean to offend you!” she said, hushed.

“Offend Dobby?” he asked. “Dobby has heard of your greatness, ma’am, but  _ never _ has he been asked to sit down by a witch, like an equal!” Ariadne’s heart sank, as she remembered how few people would truly be following even the minimum standards set down, let alone treating elves properly.

“I’ve heard bad things about how wizards treat elves, I’m sorry,” she replied. “You must not have met many decent ones.”

“No, I haven’t.” Dobby recoiled at himself, moving toward Ariadne’s bedside table. “That was an awful thing to say.”  _ BANG! BANG! _ It sounded like the elf had started to bash his head against the table, all the while verbally punishing himself on top. “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!” he cried.

“Nonononono!” Ariadne exclaimed, reaching out and pulling him back. “No no, stop, shush, hey. Hey. Are you okay?” 

“Dobby had - Dobby had to punish himself ma’am. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family.” She realized what this reminded her of. 

It reminded her of holding her breath in the cupboard under the stairs while Vernon Dursley descended the stair, with two child protective service people following. She pulled the elf into what she could manage of a hug from her position.

“You don’t need to punish yourself. You don’t need to punish yourself,” she whispered in his ear as she rocked gently. Dobby released himself from the embrace and pulled himself up onto the bed, sitting down.

“If they ever knew Dobby was here…” Dobby shuddered. “But Dobby had to come. Dobby has to protect Ariadne Granger. To warn her. Ariadne Granger must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this term!” The elf shook a bit as he spoke, in fear it seemed. “There is a plot, a plot to make most terrible things happen!”

“Th-the Petrifications? Who- how do you know it’s a plot?” Ariadne asked. Dobby gasped.

“Hng! Can’t! Say!” Dobby growled, growling more at himself than Ariadne. She heard him slap himself, and she grabbed him again.

“Stop, no. You don’t have to punish yourself, Dobby.” Dobby did continue to try, but at least she was stopping him. “I understand if you can’t say, just don’t hurt yourself, okay?” She pulled Dobby back into the hug.

“Terrible things are happening at Hogwarts,” Dobby mumbled into her shoulder. “Ariadne Granger must not return, now that history is repeating itself!”

“I can’t just not go back, I’ve got the entire wizarding world watching- hold on a second.  _ Repeat itself _ ?!” Ariadne started, before pulling away abruptly. “You mean this has happened before?!” Dobby gasped.

“Shouldn’t have said that!” he cried, trying to reach for something. “Bad Dobby! Bad!”

“Stop it!” Ariadne exclaimed, a tear in her eye at the clear mental abuse this elf had suffered. “Stop doing that, please! Now. I know you can’t  _ tell _ me, but do you  _ know _ when this happened before, and do you  _ know _ who is doing it now?”

“Dobby cannot say, ma’am. Dobby only wants Ariadne Granger to be safe,” Dobby replied, rubbing her shoulder.

“I’m going to take that as a yes, but don’t you dare hurt yourself. I figured that out through unintended implication, understand? You didn’t tell me,” she whispered cautiously as she patted him on the back, a memory flooding back into her mind.

> **_June, 1996_ **
> 
> _ “You-you-you said my eyes look cool. Do they look d-different?” Ariadne asked, sitting on the bench beside Hermione. _
> 
> _ “Oh! Oh, yeah. They’re kind of all white, like milk. Your face is a little red around them too, did something happen to them?” Hermione replied, asking more questions in that endearing way her mind had always worked. _
> 
> _ “Not supposed to talk about it,” Ariadne replied. _

“I’m also going to assume you can’t tell me anything more,” she said. Dobby shook his head into her shoulder. “I-I-I want you to know, that I understand what that’s like. I know how that feels,” she said, her voice shaking. “But you’re going to be okay. One day, you won’t have to be afraid of them. You’ll be able to talk about it without hurting yourself. You’re going to be okay.” She wished someone had told her that seven years ago. As the elf sobbed and snapped his fingers, his magic flared and vanished from her arms, and she only hoped it was as true for Dobby, the mysterious elf, as it had been for her, the Girl Who Lived.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fuckin complete tonal whiplash lmao  
> That little parallel at the end there struck me as I was watching the scenes for reference and HOO BOY I do not like how it almost feels like Chamber of Secrets plays Dobby beating himself for laughs and then never mentions it again. So instead, have some whump.


	56. Celebrity Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprisingly good day of signings has a sour end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That little last bit with Dobby was about the only thing so far that has genuinely put a tear in my eye as I wrote it, so I hope y’all enjoyed it.  
> And now, the pain train continues toward its destination.

**Sunday, 5th of January, 2003**

Christmas had gone by in a blur, and she and Hermione were eagerly awaiting the DVD release of  _ The Two Towers _ which had come out not long after Dobby’s visit. However, they didn’t think it would be out until after next term, and Ariadne’s thoughts were dominated by what the elf had said to her.

She believed she’d fully deciphered what she could glean from Dobby’s information; it wasn’t much, but it was a lead. Dobby had known that the petrifications were taking place, and knew that it was a plot. He also knew who it was, which pointed fingers directly at the family who he served.

It had also happened before. But there had been no mention of any petrifications at Hogwarts in any of the books she and Hermione had read. So that was, for the moment, a loose end.

However, all they needed was to find out what family Dobby served. If they figured that out, they’d know who the Heir of Slytherin was, or who they were acting through.

That wasn’t important that day though; what was more important was that she be presentable in time for the signing. She sat in the bathroom in her pajamas while her mother applied some slightly more complicated but subtle makeup to her face, her hair tied up after being treated with SleekEazy. Beside her, hanging on the door, was the dress she would be wearing supplied by Madam Malkin’s. She was told it was a deep blue, with a lighter swirling pattern fading up the skirt, short puffy sleeves and just low enough of a neckline to facilitate a short necklace - a Snitch. It was accompanied by a thick wool capelet adorned with clouds. She’d thought the patterns appropriate, given the way she ‘saw’ the world. The button on the front of the cape also had a lightning-bolt attached to it, which she thought a bit on-the-nose but not in poor taste. Malkin had also given her some thick leg warmers and gloves, which matched.

“Okay, all done! Don’t touch it, you don’t want it smudging,” her mother said, stepping back. “All right, you get dressed and then we’ll do your hair and be off.” Valerie left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Ariadne stood and picked the dress off its hanger. She hadn’t remembered it being this heavy when she’d tried it on prior, but she may have just forgotten. She carefully stripped out of her pajamas, being sure not to touch her face, and stepped into the dress. The zip on the back took a moment and some quiet swearing, but eventually she got it.

She wasn’t certain if she liked the petticoat, the shuffling sounds were a bit weird, but it would have to do. She was glad for the legwarmers, gloves and capelet, they’d be important in the snowy weather. Nervous, she stepped out of the bathroom where her family was waiting.

“Oh my- you look amazing, Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed. She hadn’t been present when Ariadne had tried on the dress at Malkin’s, and as such hadn’t seen it before. Beaming, Ariadne tentatively took the hair tie out, letting her hair cascade down onto her shoulder as she shook it out.

“There’s our beautiful princess!” Valerie said, coming over. “If we had more time it’d be nice to do something more with your hair but we really don’t, we’ve got to get moving.” She heard keys jangle. “Okay, your father’s got your bag, let’s go.” They would have taken the Floo straight there, but they’d realized it would get soot all over Ariadne’s dress. Instead, Ariadne carefully got into the car as the petticoat crushed behind her and she did up her seatbelt. In her nerves and shivering, the drive there and the careful walk to the back entrance of Flourish and Blotts blended together into a sea of magic light around her, before she found herself standing in front of Gilderoy Lockhart in the back room.

“Ah, there she is, the star of the show!” Lockhart exclaimed, and Ariadne stopped.

“Show?” she asked, concerned.

“Figure of speech, Ariadne. All right, we’re due to start in a few minutes, if I could have your family head around to that side curtain where they can see you, I’ll head out and bring you in after, okay?” Lockhart replied. Ariadne nodded, as Lockhart strode out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Gilderoy Lockhart,” called an announcer, as applause began to fill the room. Magical green cones filtered in through the doorway as the snaps of a couple cameras capturing Lockhart filled the air.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what a lovely day this is. When I accepted the post of Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry just after the release of my Daily Prophet Bestselling autobiography  _ Magical Me _ , I sorely underestimated how little time I’d have in my schedule for my adoring fans! I’ve been kept from you! But, as fortune had it, work was not all I found at Hogwarts. For sitting at my feet, that auspicious day at the Dueling Club, was revealed someone we hadn’t seen in a decade.” Gasps began to fill the shop as people realized what he was doing. “Might I introduce, my surprise guest - Gryffindor’s White Eyed Wonder, and the Girl Who Lived herself, give it up for Ariadne Lily Granger!” Lockhart stepped aside dramatically, with a swoosh of his cloak as he must have swung his arm to point to her - taking her cue, Ariadne took a deep breath and stepped out carefully with her cane to stand beside him, smiling and waving gently with her gloves in her other hand. The photographers - of which there were two this time - frantically took their positions to capture the pair, taking well over a dozen photos as the crowd cheered and clapped.

“Over here please, Miss Granger,” one of them said, and Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m so-so sorry, I can’t see where you mean, you’ll have to tell me if I get it,” she said, unable to stop smiling as she pivoted until the cameraman told her she’d got it. Once the pair had what they wanted, they quickly shuffled out and Lockhart tapped her on the arm.

“If you want to say something, best do it now,” he murmured. Ariadne inhaled anxiously.

“I-I-I-I-I-I don’t know- I don’t know what to say!” she started, before halfway thinking of a plan and turning to the assembled people. “This is wonderful, thank you for coming! Um- I- This is all very new to me, of course, having only come out of hiding quite recently,” she continued, flicking her hair off her shoulder. “I’m very grateful to Professor Lockhart here for his support and his continuing assistance in helping me, uh, figure all of this out!” she chuckled slightly, blushing. Even she didn’t know if it was a real laugh, but there was no going back. “Thanks to Professor Flitwick, we’ve got with us some magical ink, so while we have that - and sensing you all I think we might run out! - I’ll be sitting in, uh, if anyone would like  _ me _ to sign their books as well!” She turned back to Professor Lockhart.

“Indeed!” Lockhart said. “Now, without further ado, let’s get going! If you just sit down there, Ariadne.” Ariadne drew her pen from the singular tiny pocket the dress had and sat down in one of the two chairs, setting her cane down beside her.

Luckily, Lockhart had been right - this was a much more regulated experience than she’d previously had, and she eventually even found herself enjoying it genuinely instead of performatively. It wasn’t just younger people, there were many adults who didn’t want to bother her, as well as younger children with endearing questions ranging from whether Muggles had dogs, to serious curiosity about what it was like to be blind. She was glad for the variety which her peers hadn’t had, and she’d happily answered the questions on societal difference using her conversations with Arthur Weasley as reference.

\--

As her sore wrists screamed at her to stop even with the lunch break they’d taken, they finally ran out of magical ink during the mid afternoon, and not long after, the Grangers took their leave to the sorrow of those still in the line. Ariadne ran her gloved hands through her hair as she sat down in the car again.

“I… I enjoyed that,” she said hesitantly as Dennis started driving away from Diagon Alley and she felt the bumps in the roads shaking through the car. “I didn’t think I would, but I did.”

“Oh good, good! Hermione had fun too, so I see,” Dennis replied. Hermione had bought a book,  _ The Trapped Prince _ by a witch called Ysmelda Renswick, and had read multiple more.

“Hmm! Wizarding literature doesn’t seem to have much speculative fiction, hopefully this is good,” she replied, tapping the cover excitedly. “D’you want to hear the story too, Ariadne?”

“Y-Yes please!” Ariadne replied. She might have enjoyed the signing, but she was tired now and a return to normality by having Hermione read her a story was exactly what she needed. As the car stopped and they returned home, Ariadne was stopped in her tracks by an orange and yellow flare in the fireplace.

“All right, you go take that makeup off, Ariadne, and get changed. Oh, what’s this?” Valerie said, stepping in behind her. “Someone’s in the Floo…” Ariadne got out of the way, confused.

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“It’s Molly, Molly Weasley…” Valerie said. She took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the flame to let her in, which roared briefly to a peak before it ceased and the core of Molly Weasley stepped out hurriedly.

“Oh! Oh, Valerie, I’m so sorry!” Molly coughed. “I didn’t know you were- oh, hello Ariadne, Hermione,” she exclaimed, breathing heavily. Her magic was jumping about, she was scared.

“Hey, hey what happened, you okay?” Dennis asked as he closed the door behind him and moved over to her.

“Um, oh dear,” Molly puffed, sitting down. “I-I-I-I got an owl this afternoon, an owl from Hogwarts. I couldn’t just send Errol over, I had to tell the girls myself.” She kept trying to steady her breathing. “It’s Ron. He’s been Petrified,” she sobbed. Both the girls gasped, while their parents were confused.

“Petrified? What do you mean?” Valerie asked, as Hermione ran over to Molly and hugged her. Ariadne stood, frozen, with her mouth hanging open.

Ron.

He and the rest of the Weasleys - along with a surprising number of the rest of the school - had stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays.

“There have been… Mister Filch’s cat was Petrified, frozen, early in the term, we didn’t think much of it until a student was Petrified too after Ariadne’s Quidditch game…” Hermione quietly explained, sounding as if she too was starting to cry. “There’s talk of a legend, of the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ariadne slowly walked over, tears in her eyes as she blinked. 

“Why weren’t we told about this?!” Dennis asked, worry filling his voice.

“W-w-w-w--we-we-we-w-w-w-w-we-we-we forgot, with-with-with all my stuff happening,” Ariadne replied, shaking. 

“They’re making a Mandrake Draught, though? He’ll be okay, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said.

“In a couple months, the letter said so. But someone, or something attacked him!” Molly replied. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t send a letter. Arthur’s not going to be back until morning, he doesn’t know,” she sobbed.

“No no, you needn’t be sorry,” Dennis replied. “Um, if Arthur’s not going to be home until tomorrow, you’re welcome to stay here for the night? We can’t have you be alone with this happening.”

“Yeah, we can put you up in the spare room if that’d be better than staying home?” Valerie added. “Oh, I think we’ve still got some of that Phoenix Tear tea, I’ll fix you a cup. Milk, sugar?”

“I don’t mind,” Molly replied. “I um, I’d appreciate staying the night, thank you. I can’t stay there, I’ll end up staring at the tracking clock all night.”

“All right, I’ll go get the room ready for you. ‘Adne, best take that makeup off before it gets all down your face,” Dennis said as he passed her. Ariadne wiped a tear from her cheek, before heading to the bathroom to quickly use the wipes they’d bought to take it all off. She didn’t even think about it, her mind was filled with hypotheticals.

What had happened to Ron? Where was he? What was he doing?

Who had done this to her best friend?

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *mic drop*


	57. Weasley Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Term begins again at Hogwarts, underneath the heavy cloud that is the petrification of Ronald Weasley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all wanted canon divergence? Have some canon divergence! All bets are off now, buckos.

For Ariadne, the trip back to Hogwarts was not a day she looked forward to. To stay home would have been to dunk her head in the sand and ignore what had happened, and oh how she wished she could as her parents hugged her and told her to stay safe before they boarded the Hogwarts Express. With Ron petrified, she’d only have a worse time both socially and as the Girl Who Lived.

She knew she had to visit him, she couldn’t bring herself not to. But she didn’t know if she could bear seeing his magic caged like that.

But she wasn’t just sad. She was vengeful. Problem was, Ron would have been who she’d ask about who stayed at Hogwarts to create a list of suspects - whoever was responsible had remained at Hogwarts, but that was nowhere near as short a list as last year’s had been. She didn’t want to ask one of the other Weasleys, that wouldn’t be very nice of her. Unfortunately, she didn’t know for sure who else she might. So it was a dead end.

She had so much to go off, but nothing to connect it to, and the frustration hung over her like a cloud as the train stopped at the station and the throng of students clamoured to the carriages in the cold. While all their peers’ magical cores bobbed off toward the Great Hall and the feast, Ariadne went the other way.

“Where’re you going?” Sally-Anne asked as she split off.

“Um. R-Ron got.. Ron got p-petrified,” she said quietly without turning to face Sally-Anne as Hermione stopped a few steps up the stairs.

“We’re going to visit him,” Hermione added. “Come on ‘Adne.” Ariadne glumly sidled on autopilot up the stairs, probing each one half-heartedly. At least the corridors were empty, and they were uninterrupted on their way until they met the colours of Madam Pomphrey in the ward.

“Ah, Ariadne, Hermione. I thought you might come,” Pomphrey sighed. “Come in, please.” Madam Pomphrey led them to the magic void that was another curtained bed, on the far right of the ward. Pulling back the curtain, she showed the girls in and revealed the sight of Ron Weasley’s yellow and blue magic, shifting within itself as usual, but caged within its own bounds by an angry red net of magic. Hermione made a choked noise and tried to hug him. Ariadne didn’t know how to react, she simply stood, staring.

“H-hh-h-w-w-wha-what happened?” she finally asked as Hermione let go.

“He was found in the Gryffindor boy’s bathroom; brushing his teeth after dinner,” Pomphrey replied. “He was found not long after, we presume, when his dormmates realized he wasn’t with them.”

“I’m sorry Ron…” Hermione mumbled. “If we’d only invited him over or something, this wouldn’t have happened!” she exclaimed before hugging Ariadne. While Hermione hung from her arms, Ariadne spoke up.

“Madam Pomphrey?”

“Yes dear?”

“D-d-do you have a-a-a a vase?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I’ll go grab one.” Pomphrey bustled off for a moment, returning with a vase which she gingerly handed to the blind girl. It felt like it was made of glass, so she was careful with it. She let Hermione go, feeling around for the bedside table. Finding it, she patted it before setting the vase down. Then, she took out her wand.

“ _Orchideous_ ,” she incanted, her wand pointed into the vase, and she watched as a green wave of energy fabricated a bunch of flowers in the vase. They probably weren’t much good, and might not have even been of any recognizable species - she’d only learnt the spell just before the Christmas holidays - but she stood back again, sliding her wand back into her pocket.

\--

Breakfast the next day brought with it an emptiness at Ron’s absence, as well as white hot rage as she heard Draco Malfoy across the hall boasting that it wasn’t just “mudbloods” being attacked, but “blood traitors like White Eyes” too. However, what it also brought was a small letter in magical ink from an owl, which handily distracted the pair - Professor Flitwick had made good progress on Ariadne’s spell, and believed they would find it interesting. They arrived for Charms early, eager to know what he had done.

“Ah, Hermione, Ariadne. Excellent, you’re early. Come over here would you?” Flitwick called from the front of the class. “I hope you two are doing okay, with the news of Mister Weasley, I’d been rather worried.”

“We’re… we’re okay,” Ariadne replied as she probed her way over. “It’s just… it’s not the same.”

“He’ll be fine, remember that. But onto more positive matters,” Flitwick reassured her, stepping up onto a stool. “Now, I’ve made some good progress on the _aurum_ spell, see here,” he shuffled some papers covered in magical diagrams toward them, and Ariadne immediately took out her latest notebook - the most recent of many - to take notes. “Now, I’m still working on the _radia_ modifier, which I expect I’ll have done in perhaps a month. Observe.” Flitwick took out his wand and pointed it. “ _Aurum_ ,” he said, as a book on his table took on a bright blue glow and Ariadne gasped. “Unfortunately I must ask you not to use it until I’m done with the radial modifier, since any use while it’s being worked on could lead to, er, problems. But for class today, it might be wise to test it on Hermione’s textbook, like so.” Flitwick opened the book, before dispelling the aura. “ _Aurum_ ink,” he said.

On the page, all in unison, glowing blue letters filtered into view for Ariadne and she eagerly grabbed the book. It appeared to be an advanced Charms textbook, discussing various theoretical movements far in advance of anything they’d studied, not even while constructing the Aurum spell. She smiled as Flitwick chuckled.

“Not _that_ textbook. You’re clever, but not ready for _that_ yet.” He dispelled it and Ariadne sadly put it back down. “But, from your reaction, I presume you’ll be able to share the textbook for today?” She nodded, beaming as a few more students entered the room for class, and the sisters took their chairs nearby the Professor - noting, with sorrow, the emptiness of Ron’s usual seat beside them. Ron’s petrification, it seemed, had brought the Weasley kids together, and all were feeling the absence keenly - Ginny’s magic fluttered more than ever, while the Twins’ opposing rotations were jerky and inconsistent. Percy tried to keep a calm demeanor for the House, but Ariadne could see he was worried from how his magic core wobbled.

\--

For the next few weeks, Ariadne found herself alone. Not entirely, for she had her sister and the occasional attention from misguided fellow students, but the latter had waned a lot since before the holidays. To be fair, she was grateful of that part. She visited Ron in the Hospital Wing every second evening, with the exception of Quidditch training days when she was too tired to spend the time probing every step on the way. She’d have thought she’d have learnt the shapes of the stairs with how often she had to walk them, but it seemed the unevenness she’d cursed the architect for wasn’t even quite consistent per stair - each side of each stair was just different enough from the other that she would trip if she tried to get up most of them without her cane, with the exception of the dorm stairs which she’d mostly mastered. But stairs aside, she was forced to admit, she’d become a bit of a recluse in Ron’s absence.

Hermione, on the other hand, had reacted to Ron’s absence rather differently; instead of pulling back, she was compensating by socializing more with others. She would chat with the girls from the dorm at meals about all manner of things - it was nowhere near a thriving social life, but Hermione was compensating for Ron’s absence in entirely the opposite way to Ariadne.

And it hadn’t gone unnoticed, it seemed, as Ariadne got ready for bed on a Thursday.

“Ariadne?” Parvati asked, sitting up on her bed. “Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet lately. More than usual, I mean.” Ariadne stifled a laugh at the last part. “Even Hermione’s more… involved lately, and y’know, she has trouble with that sort of stuff.”

“Yeah, ever since Ron you’ve not really been talking to anyone. Even before then, with all the Potter stuff. You started talking more but then as soon as that all went down you kinda went back into your shell,” Sally-Anne added.

“I’m- I’m okay?” she replied, sitting down as well. “I think?” She thought for a moment, knowing all the attention was on her. At least it wasn’t for being a celebrity. “It’s just… it’s overwhelming. And then Ron, I just…” she trailed off, playing with her hands, her eyes threatening to tear up. “I wish none of that had happened.” The two came over and sat down on her bed on either side of her, and Parvati - as far as she could tell by the direction - placed a hand on her back reassuringly.

“You know, none of us care that you’re the Girl Who Lived or whatever, you know that right?” she said. “I know we were talking about it a while ago, but that was just because it was new. You’re just Ariadne to us, okay?” Parvati said.

“You-y-y-y-you mean that?” Ariadne asked, without lifting her head.

“Yeah, we do. We know that the Girl Who Lived also has nightmares and trouble sleeping, and schleps around the dorm in bunny rabbit slippers and falls down stairs when she’s not careful,” Sally-Anne replied as Ariadne giggled. “We don’t just see the public face, we see _you_.”

“Also, I think you’ll need us tomorrow,” Parvati added.

“Hmm?” Ariadne hummed.

“Lockhart’s doing that Valentines’ Day thing tomorrow, remember?”

“Oh. Wh-why do I…” Ariadne trailed off again as her eyes went wide. _Oh no_.

“Now you get it. You’ll want us to keep the boys off you, no doubt,” Parvati said, mischievously as Ariadne cringed. “Oh you’re such a poor sport, I thought you liked boys? Liked Ron at least.”

She didn’t know if she liked boys in _that_ context, at least.

And as it turned out, Parvati had been right. Lockhart had had the entire castle decorated in garish magical decorations, which despite Ariadne’s magic sense finding them to be blue, were apparently pink and valentines and flowers were being mysteriously delivered by magic.

Not just by magic, Ariadne found, as more than a few boys - to her disturbance, mostly older than her - gave her flowers, to the point she had nowhere to put them all in her mortification. The worst part was the letters - modified Howlers, which spoke whatever had been written in them in an anonymous voice. She only listened to one before immediately lighting the rest on fire right at the breakfast table, to the ire of Professor McGonagall.

> _Her eyes are as white as a fresh-picked lily,_ _  
> __Her hair is as dark as a blackboard._ _  
> __I wish she was mine, she’s really divine,_  
>  _The heroine who conquered the Dark Lord._

At the arrival of even more, Ariadne decided she’d best go to class before it got out of hand and fled the Hall, but the magical deliveries continued even as she walked to Defence, dropping on the floor from mid-air behind her, and even throughout the class. Her only recourse was to keep burning them discretely, hoping nobody would smell the smoke. By the time she returned to bed however, she smelt more of smoke than even the world’s heaviest smoker.

One thing kept her up though. The modified howlers spoke in a voice that was supposed to be the gender of whoever had sent them, as far as she could tell from hearing others’.

The only one she’d listened to had been an anonymous woman’s voice.

It gave her hope for the progress of the wizarding world, but it only added more questions. Who was it? Then again, she supposed, it was nice to have a ‘normal’ thing to worry about; who her secret admirer was.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I’m aware that that’s not quite how the Valentine’s Day stuff quite went in the books. I’m the writer and going off movies, I decide when book canon dies.


	58. A Dark Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter after dinner brings a dark reminder of past events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the real fun begins >:)

Luckily, their dormmates insistance on keeping Ariadne’s spirits up was working. She hadn’t been the only one to notice the valentine letter had been from a girl, and for a few days they’d been jokingly trying to figure out who it was purely from her interactions and magic sense - Hermione didn’t approve, but she didn’t intervene. The other girls had, however, been enthusiastic about her ability to sense when someone was anxious or scared and its possible applications.

For fair sport, they’d ruled out everyone else in the dorm. So if it was one of them, they were in on the game. After a couple of days they’d grown bored of it, but had run through some of their fellow Gryffindors. Ginny and Clarabelle of the first years they’d dismissed, despite how anxious Ginny had seemed of late; they put her significant nerves down to the events of the year and the petrification of her brother. Katie Bell and Melissa Turnbush they’d also ruled out - Katie had a crush on Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff’s new Seeker, and Melissa was allegedly dating someone in Ravenclaw secretly.

Anyone older, they didn’t want to entertain the idea of. Bit creepy.

After that, however, they’d kept up their reassurances, even accompanying her to Quidditch practice and cheering her on. There were even rumours that they were Ariadne’s fan club, rumours she and they quelled at every opportunity. If anything, they were there to keep any fans off her back. The girls had even taken an interest in the spell Flitwick was creating, and asked Ariadne about how she saw the world, but far less invasively than those she didn’t know had.

It was two weeks after Valentines, a Saturday, and the girls were sitting together at dinner laughing at the boys as they, with the exception of Neville, competed trying to Transfigure their water into alcohol, a veritable kaleidoscope of magic exploding from their area as they tried different things. Ariadne knew theoretically how she might do it, but didn’t remember the spell in the moment. She did not, however, attribute such intelligence to the boys, and all failed. Seamus, she was glad, did not blow up his glass in his attempts to create whiskey, but it did produce an unpleasant odour after a while. Ginny had arrived late, buzzing with anxiety as usual as she took a place at the table near Clarabelle. Hermione laughed as Dean finally gave up when dessert arrived.

“It’s not that hard, you know,” Hermione said. “With juice, that is. But it’s difficult when you’re working on water,” she added, smugly.

“You do it then!” Seamus said.

“No! Besides, how would  _ you  _ know if I got it right?” Hermione replied, indignantly as the girls laughed.

“Oh go on, just one,” Sally-Anne whispered. Hermione turned slightly, and pulled out her wand. She waved it over her cup quickly, doing nothing, put her wand away, then toasted the boys as they gasped. Ariadne couldn’t stop herself from bursting into laughter as the enchanted base of the goblet found its way back to the table.

“Boys. Flick of a wand and they’ll believe anything,” Hermione chuckled. “But for the record, I  _ do  _ know how.”

“In another life you’d be the biggest rule-breaker at Hogwarts, I swear,” Parvati said.

“Wait, you didn’t-?” Seamus said.

“No,” Hermione replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t even  _ say _ anything.”

“I knew that,” Dean claimed.

“N-no you didn’t,” Ariadne replied with a mouthful of ice cream. As the groups sniped back at one another over it, eventually the Hall began to empty, and Hermione and Ariadne took their leave when Sally-Anne made a bet that she could successfully Transfigure her juice into cider.

“Have you seen Ron lately?” Hermione asked as they ascended the stair to the second floor.

“Yesterday,” Ariadne replied. “I wish those Mandrakes would mature faster, he’s missing so many lessons.” Oddly, she felt her cane splash through water at the second floor landing and she stopped. Had they taken a wrong turn? No, all the glowing paintings were in the right places. “What’s this?” She carefully stepped up, cringing as her shoes got part-submerged and she hesitantly walked into the hallway where Mrs. Norris had first been found.

“Ew.. Myrtle must have flooded the bathroom. We’d better deal with it,” Hermione said, slowly pushing herself to move forward as Ariadne splashed her cane through the shallow water. The second floor girls’ bathroom was almost never used, which would usually have been an attractive fact for Ariadne if it weren’t for the haunting of Moaning Myrtle, or as she more charitably thought of her, Myrtle. As such, it was relatively dark as ghosts didn’t shed much magic, but it was filled with the sound of gushing water splashing into sinks and onto the ground, like some kind of waterfall. At least it was clean water, if it was coming from the taps. “Myrtle? Myrtle, are you in here?” Hermione called. Ariadne had already seen her, and pointed up at where she presumed was one end of the bathroom, where Myrtle was sitting in what had to be a window alcove, crying. It was a strange sight for Ariadne, who was not used to seeing people properly. The girl had glasses, and wore an older era of Hogwarts robe.

“Come to throw something  _ else _ at me?” the ghostly girl asked as Ariadne put her hand down.

“No, Myrtle. Did someone throw something at you?” Hermione asked, gently.

“Hmm. There I was, minding my own business and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me,” Myrtle replied, floating forward a bit, her robes fluttering in the air.

“Is that why you flooded the bathroom?” Hermione asked, still being gentle. Myrtle had always been a bit sensitive, and Hermione always avoided offending her.

“I’m sorry…” Myrtle mumbled.

“No no, that’s all right. It’s just gotten into the corridor is all,” Hermione reassured her. “Let’s turn the taps off, yeah? That way we can clean up, okay?” Myrtle nodded and floated down a ways. Hermione took one bank near the wall, while Ariadne felt for the centre taps she could hear and began feeling for them to turn them off. One, however caught her mind’s eye.

“Myrtle?” she said.

“Yeah?” Myrtle stopped turning off taps and turned to her.

“What’s this?” Ariadne pointed to what she could see; on the side of a tap - one which she had realized wasn’t on - was a glowing blue coiled shape. There wasn’t anything like it in any of the other bathrooms as far as she knew, and she had no idea what it was for.

“Oh, that tap’s never worked. Not even when  _ I _ was a student. I wouldn’t bother with it,” the ghost replied, returning to the taps and spinning a few more into the off position. The sound of flowing water began to dissipate, but Ariadne wasn’t done.

“No, not the tap. There’s something on it, it’s magic.” Myrtle floated over, with what Ariadne could only assume was a curious expression on her face as she leant over.

“I’ve never noticed that. Weird,” Myrtle shrugged. Ariadne fiddled with the tap, but nothing happened. Strange.

“Have you ever thought about finishing your classes?” Hermione asked, coming over and stemming the final taps in the centre.

“What for? I can’t use a wand anymore, I can’t even cast spells. I tried doing them without a wand once, it didn’t work.”

“The theory, I mean. You must get bored in here, it’d be something to do,” Hermione replied.

“Ha, I’m sure that book they threw at me would help,” Myrtle replied sarcastically. “Nah, I don’t always hang around here. The gossip you hear when you’re sitting in a pipe, oh it’s delicious.”

“Wait. Who threw it at you?” Ariadne asked, frowning as she heard the water croaking down the drains.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see them,” Myrtle replied. “I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, oh, and it fell through the top of my head!” Ariadne watched as her face screwed up and she started crying, floating toward a cubicle before vanishing within. Ariadne followed briefly, as Hermione started looking through the cubicles. Something felt off as she walked into the wing of cubicles, but she couldn’t explain it.

“Here it is,” Hermione said, standing in a doorway just as Ariadne got an angle on the book which lay on the ground. As she sensed it, she gasped as a spark of pain flitted through her forehead. “Why would someone want to flush away a book?” Hermione wondered as she leant down.

“G-g-g-ge-get back, don-don-don’t touch it!” she yelled. Hermione spun in shock.

“What, why?” she replied, concerned. Ariadne stepped carefully toward the slab of static which had begun to send shooting pains through her scar, her heartbeat through the roof.

“I’ve only seen that kind of magic once before,” Ariadne said, shakily. “V-Voldemort.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, no, Hogwarts is not teaching twelve-year-olds how to turn juice into cider. Hermione just reads a lot, and reads to Ariadne.


	59. A Lying Diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione take the book back to the Gryffindor Common Room in order to investigate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnn

Ariadne and Hermione slowly moved to action once the Common Room was empty that evening; they didn’t know what the book might be enchanted to do, and the only people they were willing to put in danger were themselves. Ariadne retrieved the bundle she’d been sitting on - they’d been careful not to touch the book, levitating it into the air before wrapping Hermione’s robe around it. The flickering static of its magic had almost saturated Hermione’s robe, almost as if this type of magic wasn’t easily blocked by clothing, and she handed it to her sister, who had put on her dragonhide gloves.

“All right,” Hermione said, putting it down on a table. “I’m going to unwrap it, you keep an eye on it and tell me if it starts doing anything.” Ariadne watched as the thinly-coated layers of the garment were unwrapped, almost immediately losing the imprinted magic, revealing the slab that was the book. “Anything?”

“Nothing yet,” Ariadne said, rubbing her forehead as she focused on the book.

“All right,” Hermione said, taking out what sounded like a sheet of parchment and scratching a pen on it. “Preliminary observations: enchanted in a manner visually similar to Voldemort to Ariadne.” Hermione flipped the book over. “Hmm. Says it belongs to a Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“We-we should figure out who he was,” Ariadne said.

“Definitely. Second, it seems to have dried itself out. I know it’s been wrapped in robes, but it doesn’t even look slightly damp, despite having been submerged in the flooded bathroom.” Hermione stopped writing. “Hmmm.” Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. She flipped it over and tapped it again.

“Nothing. Either it doesn’t react to touch, or the gloves are keeping you safe,” Ariadne said. “Maybe there’s something inside it.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Hermione parted the pages, opening the front cover. “It’s a diary. Made by the Wistanley’s company.”

“Voldemort’s diary?” Ariadne laughed.

“Something like that,” Hermione replied, moving on to the next page. And then the next. She flipped through all the pages in quick succession. “Nothing in it, no writing, no page numbers, nothing.” 

“Wait, what?”

“Nothing. Not a stroke of ink anywhere in it.” She parsed through the pages again. “Nothing.”

“Voldemort’s…  _ empty _ diary?” Ariadne thought aloud, scooching over in her chair. “It looks like a pretty strong enchantment, it has to do  _ something _ .” The pair thought for a moment, before Ariadne spoke up. “It’s an empty book, with a strong enchantment. Try writing in it!”

“Oh, clever, yeah.” Hermione took her pen, flipped a few pages over and scribbled in the book. “I haven’t written anything, it’s just to- aha!” Ariadne leant forward as she watched the book’s magic fizzle a bit. “It absorbed the ink, it’s not on any of the pages below.”

“So what happens if you write in it?”

“Let’s see then.  _ Can… you… read… this? _ ” Hermione recited. “Okay, it’s absorbing it.” Again, the diary’s magic fizzled a moment, before jumping into activity. It warbled a little, as Hermione jumped. “It’s… it’s responding. It’s writing in itself…  _ Yes. Who’s asking? _ ” Hermione put the pen down. “What if this  _ is _ Voldemort, what do we do?”

“Um…” Ariadne bit her lip. “If it is, it’s probably got something to do with the Chamber, right? Be careful what you tell it, Voldemort is… manipulative. He tried to get me on his side last year, tried to offer my sight and birth parents back. But maybe we can see what it knows.”

“Okay, okay.” Hermione took the pen back up. “ _ My… name… is… Hermione… Granger… Who… are… you? _ ” Hermione fiddled with the pen while she waited for a response. “It says…  _ Hello, Hermione Granger. My name is Tom Riddle _ . Ugh, we already knew that.  _ Yes… we… know. It’s… on… your… back… cover. What… are… you? _ ” Ariadne laughed briefly as the diary jumped around a bit. “Okay, it’s responding.  _ A memory, of sorts. _ ”

“A memory of Voldemort’s?” Ariadne said, before leaning back. “I hope it can’t hear us.”

“Uh… true, yes. Um, what should we ask it? Shall I just ask about the Chamber?”

“Yeah, maybe ask if it’s been opened before? It says it’s a memory, maybe that’ll make it less sudden.”

“Okay.  _ What… do… you… know… about… the… Chamber… of… Secrets? If… you’re… a… memory… has… it… been… opened… before? _ ” she said, the pen scratching across the parchment interrupted by what remained of the fire popping behind Ariadne. This time took a moment, as the metaphorical gears of the diary churned, before bleeding a response onto the page. “ _ Yes _ . Oh come on, give us something.  _ Can… you… tell… us? _ Oh hell, I shouldn’t have said ‘us,’ I should have said me. Oh that was quick.  _ No. _ Ugh, stingy book.”

“It’s still-” Ariadne said, noting the diary was still buzzing.

“Oh!  _ But I can show you _ . Show us?” Hermione added. Ariadne jumped back as the book began to intensify its static, flailing as her chair threatened to tip. “ _ Let me take you back fifty years. _ ” The pages flapped wildly to a seemingly random page, as the static kept escalating. “ _ Thirteenth of June _ …”

“Hermione, it’s doing something!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, the spine’s glowing. Or the bit where the pages go into the spine, I-” Hermione was interrupted as a shaft of static shot out and sucked her magic into itself like a vacuum cleaner.

“Hermione!” Ariadne exclaimed, leaping forward and trying to grab the cone that had emanated from the book to no avail - it wasn’t physical. “Hermione?!” The book was infused with the blue and red of Hermione, which flicked about in chaotic patterns like some sort of strange fluid interaction with the static of the diary.

Hermione was  _ inside _ the diary. How that worked, Ariadne didn’t want to contemplate. She needed to get her  _ out _ . 

But how? She stood frozen for a few moments, wracking her brain for an answer. She didn’t want to try  _ finite incantatem _ for two reasons. A powerful dark object almost certainly wouldn’t be affected by such a simple counter, and if it somehow was, she didn’t know what it might do to Hermione.

She span on the spot, wringing her hands for a moment. Should she wake someone up? Who??

Dumbledore. She needed to take the diary to Dumbledore.

“Dammit!” she exclaimed, fumbling around in the dark for her cane.  _ I really need to get some magic ribbon for this or something _ , she thought. Eventually, her wrist nudged it and she hurriedly picked it up, before the activity of the diary’s magic shifted behind her and she span. Hermione’s magic seemed to… slide along its surface back around to its front, gathering in the spine as Ariadne stood cautiously. Moments later, the beam of static shot out again, expelling Hermione back into her chair.

“Woah!” Hermione exclaimed as she tipped over backward.

“Hermione!” Ariadne cried, discarding her cane again and kneeling beside her sister. “Hermione, are you okay?!”

“I- yeah, I’m okay,” Hermione replied, breathing heavily. She leapt forward and shut the buzzing book, stacking more books on top of it. “So it showed me some things.”

“Y-you-you disappeared! It sucked you into itself!”

“It did?!” Hermione sat back down, pulling her chair back up. “That’s… concerning, for all we know there’s someone in there hiding. It could be used as a… a cryo chamber!” Ariadne shook her head.

“I’d know if it were being used like that, I could see you inside it. Wha-wh-wha-what did it show you?” Ariadne asked, as Hermione leant back forward and scribbled down notes at what sounded like a breakneck pace.

“Okay, so, I don’t think he was telling the truth, or at least he was probably being very selective,” Hermione began as Ariadne sat back down. “He dropped me in the western stairwell, where he was standing. Or at least, I assume that was him, Dumbledore called him Tom, but this was during Dippett’s run, back before Dumbledore was headmaster.” Hermione paused in her note-taking. “There was a body, a student’s body, and they were talking about closing Hogwarts. Riddle talked to Dumbledore, he said… what did he say… ‘ _ If the person responsible was caught _ ?’ As if he knew, as if he had a suspect, but then he told Dumbledore he didn’t. Then he went off to this side room, weird to get to, very out of the way, and Hagrid was there, when he was young. He… he made it sound like Hagrid was the one responsible, and Hagrid did have a creature but it was a, um, a juvenile acromantula in a box, its name was Aragog.”

“I mean, Hagrid’s always been in the magical creatures trade, he must have started  _ somewhere _ ,” Ariadne added. “I don’t think Slytherin’s monster was a baby spider, he was associated with snakes. And acromantula can’t petrify, can they?”

“Exactly. But it worked for Tom, he framed Hagrid’s spider for the murder, that’s why he doesn’t have a wand anymore. He didn’t show me anything more, and I think it’s because he did it. Maybe there wasn’t any contrary evidence back then, but we know it can’t be an acromantula now,” Hermione replied. “We need to take this to Professor Dumbledore tomorrow.”

“I-I-I’ve got Quidditch practice tomorrow, and the game against Hufflepuff the day after. I can’t just skip it, we’ll have to be quick,” Ariadne replied.

“True. We’d better go to bed, it’s nearly midnight.” Hermione carefully picked up the diary again and wrapped it up. “I’ll hide this.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m enjoying the more scientific approach the girls have of this scene, so ye.


	60. Good News and Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione get sidetracked by some good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to some stuff I’ve been looking forward to for a good long while now :)

Ariadne was a buzzing hive of theories as she ate her breakfast amongst the blissfully ignorant Great Hall. She knew one thing; a book could not have acted alone, not unless there was even sneakier magic hiding within those covers that they’d not seen. It was  _ guiding _ someone. So as long as it remained in its hiding place, nobody would get hurt.

Maybe? Or had it only set in motion someone’s actions that were now self-sustaining?

But then why would they have tried to flush the book away?

_ Was the person doing it unwilling _ ?

The idea that the book would be capable of controlling someone was disquieting, particularly with how it had absorbed Hermione, but she took solace in that if her sister were under a magical influence, she’d be able to see it.

She was pulled from her contemplations not by Hermione getting up to retrieve the diary from their dorm, but by the sound of a letter smacking onto the table in front of her, letters glimmering as the owl swooped up and into the obscurations of the rafters and glorious clouds that were the sky-ceiling of the Great Hall.

_ Odd _ . She hadn’t been expecting mail, normally her mum and dad would send a summary of anything notable in the collection box that would arrive on a Monday, and there was almost never mail for many people in the Hall on Sundays to begin with.

Picking it up, it wasn’t an envelope. It was a single piece of parchment, and flipping it over, the message was written in Professor Flitwick’s neat handwriting.

_ Ariadne Granger, _

_ I hope this note finds you well this morning, and I know you have Quidditch training later today so I don’t wish to take too much of your time - after all, Ravenclaw would be in a better position should Gryffindor defeat Hufflepuff tomorrow. However, I believe you will be ecstatic to say the least to see what I have to show you. I have been working on it all night to have it ready in time. _

_ I can be found this morning in your usual Charms classroom. _

_ -Professor Flitwick _

“What is it?” Hermione asked, leaning over.

“P-Professor Flitwick wants to see me. I…” Ariadne trailed off. “I think he might have the spell ready!” It was  _ horrible _ timing, but Flitwick was right. She had to go. Hermione had seemingly had the same thought as she noisily took a final hurried bite and stood.

“Hmm! We’d better be quick!” Hermione exclaimed, veritably leaping to her feet. Ariadne carefully deposited her spoon back in the bowl of cereal she’d been eating before standing too. Unfortunately, quick was a difficult proposition when you had to sweep everything in front of you, and by the time the girls were standing outside of the Charms classroom, Ariadne was wondering if they’d actually have time to bring the diary to Dumbledore before she had Quidditch practice. Worry filling her mind, she followed as Hermione pushed the door open and stepped in.

“Professor Flitwick?” Hermione called. Ariadne frowned as she walked in. Something felt different, she wasn’t sure what it was, but the room  _ felt _ different.

Was she going insane or was her magic sense ever so slightly blue all around, save for the magic of herself, Hermione and Professor Flitwick in the corner?

“Ah, Grangers!” Flitwick exclaimed, yawning as the girls stopped in front of his desk. “Good morning! Now, I know you’re busy today, so I shan’t take too much of your time, Ariadne.” The man opened a book, within which were a  _ lot _ of magic-ink sentences. Many pages worth, and it wasn’t exactly a small tome, while open it was wider than Flitwick was tall. “Now, assuming I have this all correct… Ariadne, if you would do the honours,” Professor Flitwick announced, standing back.

“Uh-um…” Ariadne stammered, pulling her wand out of her pocket and holding it up. “ _ Aurum Radia! _ ” she exclaimed and flicked her wand in the air.

She jumped as a bright blue wave of light exploded forth from her wand, and within a second, the entire room was illuminated in blue. Long desks sprawled behind her on either side, and a blackboard stood between the nearest rows to her right. All along the walls she could see every detail; every engraved letter of the carvings she had used to occasionally run her fingers along, she could see every book and the shape of them stacked on Flitwick’s desk. A previously invisible candlestick stood atop a huge book beside her. 

But most importantly, she could see Hermione. She couldn’t see colour save for the blue coating, but she could see shape. Hermione’s mouth widened as Ariadne span a bit, outlines rotating around her. 

So  _ that  _ was what a smile looked like. Her hair tousled down past her shoulders in waves, with some strands hanging over her forehead. Professor Flitwick was exactly as short as she’d expected from his magical core, had a tidy moustache and was wearing a pair of circular glasses. Had either of her hands been free, she’d have clapped them over her mouth, but as her left held her cane and her right her wand, she simply squealed in joy at the sight of her sister and Charms Professor.

It was strange, the way the magic clung to things; Hermione’s mouth had been closed, so what should have been a toothy grin ended up a dark void in her senses. Ariadne put her cane - that she could see, but which also amusingly had an invisible patch where her hand had been - and strode between the rows of desks, running her hands along them as she realized she could see her own left hand - her right was ‘lit’ strangely, as it had been holding her wand, but her left was more consistently lit on one side.

“Is it working?” Hermione asked, her smile growing wider behind Ariadne as it competed with Ariadne’s own.

“Y-Yes! Thank you so much Professor!” Ariadne exclaimed, spinning on the spot and tapping the desks on either side of her. “I can see you! I can see everything!” she cried.

“Splendid! Oh, splendid!” Flitwick called, clapping. Ariadne flicked her wand again.

“ _ Aurum Radia! _ ” The second wave flowed out,getting to points where the ground had been in the ‘shadow’ area behind desks and in the corner of the classroom. This time, it managed to get Hermione’s large teeth, which made the effect slightly less demonic. Her sister was bobbing on the spot, waving her arms chaotically and smiling wildly behind her. Ariadne had long known she did that as a stim, but had never really been able to tell when she was doing it.

“Happy hands!” Ariadne exclaimed, turning to her and pointing. “I can see you!” Hermione jumped and clapped gently, flitting between holding her hands still and unbridled joy. A thought hit her and she ran - truly ran, for perhaps the first time in  _ years _ , without fear for her safety as she veritably flew across the room - toward the blackboard. She threw out her wand toward it. “ _ Aurum _ chalk!” The coating of magic around her vanished, and upon the blackboard surfaced the glimmering patterns of instructions, wand movements and homework assignments. The fourth years were working on a summoning spell, the thirds had been assigned an essay on the proper casting of the Engorgement Charm on living beings.

“Oh. I can’t- it goes away if I do this.  _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne noted, flicking her wand again before a third wave once again coated the room and the chalk vanished from her sight to be replaced by the flat surface of the blackboard.

“Your spell endurance will improve with time, in a few years you’ll probably be able to cast the base  _ aurum _ on multiple things at… once, hello Miss Brown,” Flitwick said, just as Lavender crashed through the door.

“Ariadne! Hermione!” she yelled, panting out of breath. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, we don’t know who did it but someone’s… ugh, you need to come see this. Or, sense this I guess.” Lavender waited in the door, her magic core hovering in the void left. “Sorry Professor!”

“That’s quite all right, Miss Brown, if it’s an emergency,” Flitwick replied as Ariadne started jogging toward the door without her cane. “We were done, oh, Miss Granger do remember your cane,” he added, at which Ariadne doubled back to grab it. “Enjoy!” he called as Ariadne scurried out of the room. As soon as she was out, she cast the spell again. She was surrounded by the archways of the outdoor courtyard, a bumpy path running along away from her and out of range, and she span in awe, enraptured by the view. She could see Lavender’s face, her hair in a braid down her shoulder and a bowed hair tie sticking out of it. She wasn’t wearing a robe, but she was wearing the rest of the uniform and Ariadne could see her tie and shirt sticking out of her jumper.

“C’mon!” Lavender called and she followed, without using her cane. She had to cast it a few more times before they even reached the castle proper, and it wasn’t the cane slowing her down at this point but her amazement. Hogwarts was magnificent, and she had never seen it like this. “What did you just cast?” Lavender asked as Ariadne had caught up during the fourth casting.

“Oh! It’s-it’s-it’s a spell Flitwick and us made! I can see magic so it coats everything with magic!” Ariadne replied, excitedly. “I can see you right now! Kind of, I can’t see colour but I can see shape.”

“Oh wow! That’s really cool! How many fingers am I holding up?” Lavender asked, and Ariadne laughed as she came to a stop.

“Hold on, last one didn’t get your fingers.  _ Aurum Radia _ . Four,” she replied, fully revealing Lavender’s palm and fingers, and Lavender nodded. “What are- where are we going?”

“The dormitory,” Lavender said, getting moving again. “Someone’s… ugh. At least you’ll be able to see it. Can you keep up if we pick up the pace?” Ariadne thought for a moment.

“One way to find out!” she replied, following as Lavender took it as a challenge and started jogging. She tripped several times on the way up to Gryffindor Tower as she constantly cast the spell, but she was ecstatic to see the stairs as she simply carried her cane in her left hand like a staff, taking in every detail of the inside of Hogwarts. Finally, she stepped up to the dorm, and as Hermione’s magic sank, she raised her wand.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she said, and the wave of magic exposed a travesty. Her and Hermione’s side of the dorm had been  _ trashed _ . Bits of what must have been paper littered the ground, shards of something dusted all over the floor and a number of books had been thrown all over the ground. Bits of something soft enough that the magic hadn’t properly stuck surrounded the beds, and even the beds themselves were in a state. The soft substance must have been the bedding, as the blankets and sheets were torn to shreds, the runners of the curtains hung off-kilter and some of the frames were damaged.

How the hell had someone done this without being noticed?!

“Oh my god,” she murmured, stepping in slightly. This would have been a  _ nightmare _ with her cane. There was even a lantern smashed on the ground!

She frowned. Something was missing.

The diary.

The flickering black and white magic was nowhere to be seen, and she knew it wasn’t covered by the  _ aurum _ spell as that didn’t happen. Objects coated and inherently magical objects looked quite different to one another.

“Who the hell-” Hermione whispered, before thinking. “It has to have been a Gryffindor, nobody else knows our password. And it had to have been a girl, boys can’t get up here,” she said, stepping forward and gathering her books up, seemingly glad her hands were in thick gloves - which Ariadne could sense for once. Ariadne hesitantly joined her. “Unless it wasn’t a student?”

“Whoever it was, they found what they were looking for. Voldemort’s diary is gone,” she said quietly beside Hermione just before the clocktower bell tolled.

“Oh- Ariadne you’ve got to get moving, you don’t want to be late for Quidditch practice,” Hermione cringed. She leant over to the drawers and pulled out what must have been her Quidditch uniform. “You go, we’ll deal with this.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Dunnn! Didn’t take Ginny long, all she needed was that tiny distraction and she got it!


	61. Even Worse Case Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that for Ariadne, her worst case scenario was underselling itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone’s enjoying >:)

Ariadne would not have been exaggerating to say that the new spell had immediately proven itself a life saver. If nothing else, it was enough to distract her from Ron’s petrification as she marvelled at seeing the faces of all the multitudes of students around her. She’d even attracted confused faces at her faster pace in the halls, sans her cane - and for the first time, she could sense that too. Ariadne had damn near danced the whole way to the Quidditch stadium as she revelled in the shapes around her. The columns of the courtyard, the bridge, the trees and statues dotting the grounds, all were illuminated in equally strange shadowed measures and she must have cast it over a hundred times on her way to practice alone.

Once she’d arrived, the wooden supports of the Quidditch stadium were marvellous - the way they intersected and weaved together was enthralling. The team were no less enthusiastic, and it had taken all of Wood’s leadership skills to get them back on task when their blind Seeker arrived paradoxically without her cane and could tell how many fingers they all held up, or exactly where an unmarked spare Quaffle was. Oliver was, however, glad to see morale up in the team. She and the Twins had long agreed that if they didn’t win the Quidditch Cup that year, they’d failed Ron, so they threw themselves into the game with a newfound vigour.

She quickly realized using the spell during the game would only be a drawback - having a hand free for her wand would make her easier to dislodge from her broom, and it didn’t really provide any tangible benefit worth the inconvenience. For the morning, Gryffindor had booked the pitch, but eventually the Hufflepuffs had it for the afternoon and Oliver corralled his own team to lunch before then herding the now hyped up on sugar teens to simply run drills over the fields of the grounds - traversing which was made easier for Ariadne by the introduction of her aura spell, however she did find that she had to cast the spell low to the ground to make sure the bumps manifested as shadows, otherwise it didn’t truly take on a shape and she tripped, unable to see them. By that evening, her dormitory had been brought back into an acceptable order, for which she thanked Hermione and the others profusely before struggling to fall asleep with the anxiety of tomorrow’s game running rampant through her mind.

\--

Ariadne could never really concentrate the morning before a game. She went about her morning routine all wrong, and was wryly reminded of her first ever game as she once again brushed her teeth  _ before _ breakfast, which she sorely regretted.

At least she had an appetite this time, as she veritably shoveled down her breakfast, pushing through the aftertaste of peppermint.

“Hey hey hey  _ hey!!! _ ” Fred and George called as they ran past her, hands whooshing over her head before they sat down.

“I can’t see your hands if I haven’t cast it around you, you know,” Ariadne said, taking out her wand. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . There.  _ Now _ I can -” Clap “-give you high fives.” Clap.

“That’s more like it!” Fred said.

“You’re later than usual, what kept you?” Oliver asked from his seat across from Ariadne.

“Went and visited Ron,” George replied. “For luck, I guess.” Percy nodded gently down the way as Ariadne stopped eating.

“I should- I should do that too, I guess,” Ariadne mumbled. She’d been putting it off; she didn’t know if she wanted to use the Aurum spell with him, she didn’t know if she wanted the first time she truly saw his face to be him lying in a hospital bed, unmoving. Hermione’s magic suddenly jumped beside Ariadne, and she almost  _ threw  _ her spoon down. “What happened?!” Ariadne jumped.

“No...nothing,” Hermione replied, her magic still moving. “I just… I just thought of something.”

“What is it?” Hermione wrung her hands in the air before pointing to Ariadne to emphasize her words.

“Don’t worry about it, um… you go see Ron, I’ve got to go check a book!” she exclaimed, hurriedly running off and leaving her breakfast half-eaten. Ariadne paused, stunned for a second by Hermione’s sudden departure, before she turned to the table and put down the fork she’d been holding.

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m going to go see Ron. I’ll-I’ll be back soon.” She stood, holding her cane like a staff again - she still took it with her just in case even if she did have the spell - and purposefully made her way from the Hall. It was a quicker journey than she was used to, and she regarded the illuminated archway of the Hospital Wing doors with dread. She waited for a minute, for the magic to dissipate, before taking her cane from her left arm and probing toward the door carefully. She felt for the archway and then tapped on it.

“Um, Madam Pomphrey? I c-cc-c-c-came to visit Ron, is--is that okay?” she asked gently.

“Oh, of course dear. His brothers came by, I thought they might get you to come. Just through here, Miss Granger,” Pomphrey replied, leading her to the curtain she knew Ron resided behind. She sat down just beside him, on a chair Pomphrey pulled up. “I’ll give you a moment.”

Ariadne leant forward, resting her chin on her hands. 

“I know you probably can’t hear me or anything, but I didn’t use the spell we made. I don’t want the first time I see you to be this,” she said. “But it’s a Quidditch day, so I thought I’d come up beforehand. For good luck, Fred and George say.”

\--

Ariadne was nervous as she sat at the bench watching Oliver scrawl chalk all along the board. The spell didn’t stick with the chalk when it was written with, so she kept having to re-cast it every minute or so. Hermione hadn’t been back at breakfast, at least not until they’d had to leave.

“All right. We play our game, Hufflepuff doesn’t stand a chance,” Wood said, turning from the board and beginning to walk off. Ariadne cast the radial spell as she got up, vanishing the chalk from her vision but handily letting her keep up with the rest of the team. “We’re stronger, quicker and smarter. Assuming we win this, the final will be us against Ravenclaw, and I prefer that to Slytherin if we lose,” Wood added, as he led them toward the taking-off point in the stadium and out of the tent. Strangely, Ariadne saw Professor McGonagall walking down the steps as she re-cast the spell to illuminate the area, holding a scroll and wearing a conical hat, flowing robe and short glasses. “Professor McGonagall?” Wood said, confused but in greeting.

“This match has been cancelled,” Professor McGonagall announced immediately as they all gathered around.

“You can’t cancel Quidditch?” Wood replied, before McGonagall turned her head toward him.

“Silence, Wood.” Something was wrong if she was that snappy with Oliver Wood of all people. “You and your teammates will go to Gryffindor Tower. Now,” she said, brandishing the scroll. Wood stood aside, and Ariadne began following before McGonagall continued. “Ariadne. There’s something you have to see,” she said quietly.

“Um… okay,” Ariadne replied, frowning as gears turned in her head. McGonagall was silent as she led her back into the castle after leaving her broom, but Ariadne could tell something was very wrong from the way the Professor’s magic wobbled. They began climbing stairs, so Ariadne kept renewing the spell as they rose up through the castle. It took a little while, but eventually she had some idea of where they were going.

“Professor,” Ariadne said, stopping. “Why are we going to the Hospital Wing?” she asked, the blood draining from her face. McGonagall sighed and kept walking.

“Hermione,” she said softly. By the time they got there, Ariadne couldn’t feel her fingers wrapped around her wand and her stomach was through the floor. Professor McGonagall led her through the door, and she gasped in horror as she saw what she had dreaded. “I warn you, this will be a bit of a shock,” she said softly as Ariadne took it in.

Her sister’s blue and red magic, spasming wildly as it was held within itself by an angry cage of magic.

“HERMIONE!!” she screamed, running over and almost tripping in the dark. She clapped both hands over her mouth as she started to cry profusely, her heartbeat rocketed into the stratosphere to match Hermione’s frantic magic.

Frantic magic.

“P-pp-p-pp-p-roff-f-ff-fessor?” she stammered. “Sh-shs-shs-she’s  _ conscious! _ ”

“I beg your pardon?!” McGonagall replied, immediately striding over as Hermione’s panic dulled ever so slightly.

“She’s conscious, she’s scared,” Ariadne sobbed as she felt for Hermione’s arms to try to hug the girl. “I’m here, Hermione, I’m here,” she murmured as best she could into her sister’s ear. She had to assume Hermione could hear her, she didn’t want to even think about the possibility that her sensory functions were frozen but she was fully conscious inside a state like that.

“Merlin… she was found near the Library… along with this,” McGonagall said, moving over to the other side of the bed. “Does it mean anything to you?” Hermione’s magic began to get even more chaotic, and Ariadne held out a hand. McGonagall gave her the object and she pulled back, taking her wand out.

“ _ Aurum _ ,” she said, pointing her wand at whatever it was, revealing it to be Hermione’s mirror. “I-i-i-i-ii-i-it’s her mirror?” she mumbled, shaking her head and sniffing.

“I’m sorry. I have to speak to the other Professors, I will be back momentarily to escort you to Gryffindor Tower. Poppy, if you wouldn’t mind making sure she’s all right?” McGonagall said, patting Ariadne on the shoulder gently as she passed. Ariadne could hardly think as she sat there, crying into her hands as Pomphrey sat nearby.

Her sister had been petrified. And she didn’t know if she should be crying or comforting her. Or both.

She also wasn’t capable of the latter at the same time as the former. So she sat, unable to contain the rage and horror that poured from her eyes. If Hermione was conscious, so too was Ron. So was Collin.

Unable to move, for  _ months _ . Unable to communicate anything.

McGonagall didn’t take long, and soon took her by the arm and gently led her back to Gryffindor Tower. She was barely comprehending where she was, only so far as she had to traverse stairs for which she cast the sight-wave spell and returned to her numb horror, her feet catching on bumps and the occasional stair.

Eventually, she stepped over the threshold into Gryffindor’s Common Room and was immediately embraced by the Twins. They’d found out, it seemed, and the pair guided her over to where the team was sitting. The room was packed, and a bank of students stood at the balcony to the dorms. Ariadne sat almost in Fred’s lap, crying into his shoulder as McGonagall stopped in the doorway.

“Could I have your attention please?” McGonagall called sharply, holding up the scroll she’d been holding. Everyone turned from what they were doing to face her. “Because of recent events, these new rules will be put into place  _ immediately _ . All students will return to their House Common Rooms by six o’clock  _ every  _ evening. All students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher.  _ No _ exceptions.” McGonagall paused, but did not leave. “I should tell you this: Unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught, it is likely the school will be closed.” With that, the Professor turned and strode from the Common Room, leaving only silence in her wake. Silence, save for the sniffling cries of Ariadne Granger.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m evil xD  
> Ariadne will get a break, but not just yet. Mwahahahahahahahaha


	62. The Show Must Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne must deal with life without either of her closest friends to help her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy am I having fun with that! My little angst brain is giddy. To quote Queen, however: the show must go on.

The next day, a sullen Ariadne could not help but focus on the absence of her sister. It was the revelation that she was the Girl Who Lived all over again, but even worse. She had no support anymore; Hermione had always been there for her, and the girls of the dorm were all busy with their own work and usually needed help from Hermione themselves. She floundered through Herbology half-able to pay attention through the fog of her own thoughts. At least this time she had the _aurum_ spell and didn’t almost get someone killed, but it didn’t help that she and her sister had acquired a reputation for always knowing the answers, and she found herself called on for such and immediately only thinking of Hermione at the call of “Miss Granger,” the empty desk beside her all the more obvious with the magical radar spell in action.

Eventually, Ariadne had finally given in to the lack of available information by Hermione being unable to read to her and had begrudgingly borrowed her textbooks, the ink of which she cast _aurum_ on to read. She didn’t like not being able to ask. On the same day, she’d been horrified to hear that two of the staff had been removed from their positions.

The first had been Hagrid. Nothing had been said about it, far less where he’d gone or why, but Ariadne had her suspicions. He’d been framed for the first opening of the Chamber, and it seemed to her he’d been removed in fear that he may have done it again. As if it could possibly have been Hagrid on either occasion.

The second had been Albus Dumbledore himself. At the alleged demand of the board of Governors - which included Draco’s father, Lucius Malfoy, a fact he’d wasted no time in reminding everyone of - Dumbledore had stepped down and had vanished as well. Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, was acting in his stead.

She had tried several times to write something to her parents. But in the end, it was them who wrote to her first, and on Thursday, Hermes flew overhead into the Hall as she sat alone, depositing a letter.

> _Ariadne._
> 
> _We heard what happened, Professor McGonagall sent an owl._
> 
> _A letter can’t really describe what you must be going through right now, what we’re all going through, let alone what this must be like for Hermione. Please would you visit her as much as you can, on our behalf? Give her our love._
> 
> _Try to stay calm. Remember, just like we said to Molly at the start of the year. She’s going to be okay, once the Mandrake Draught is prepared._
> 
> _Above all, stay SAFE. Minerva says that measures are being taken to ensure everyone’s safety, follow them._
> 
> _With love,_
> 
> _Mum and Dad._

She hadn’t visited Hermione since; she’d wanted to, but hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask permission to be escorted to the Hospital Wing to do so - students were not permitted outside of their Common Rooms without a teacher or staff escorting them. Ariadne sighed, folding the note into her bag, which was much heavier than she was used to with the inclusion of several textbooks.

“ _Aurum Radia_ ,” she muttered with her wand poking out of her sleeve as she swung herself around to stand from the breakfast table, lighting up the way before her. She slowly walked up to the head table, hesitantly approaching McGonagall, who notably had refused to take the Headmaster’s seat.

“Um- P-P-P-Proff-f-e-f-eff-fessor McGonn-onnagall?” she spluttered quietly.

“Yes, Ariadne?” came the gentle reply.

“I was um, I was wondering if I might um, um, if I could.. if I could visit Hermione tonight? With-with all the um, the um, the teacher stuff, I didn’t know if I could…” she mumbled.

“Oh, of course dear. Don’t worry about it. I can’t allow after dinner, six o’clock is six o’clock, but I’ll have Madam Pomphrey collect you from your Charms class this afternoon,” Professor McGonagall replied, sitting forward in her chair. “And if there’s anything else you need, please, ask. I hope you don’t mind me saying but, you’ve had a difficult year without even mentioning this. And, after all, I did say when you first arrived here that your House would become your family. Forgive my presumptuousness, but as Head of Gryffindor House, it is my responsibility to act as… well. I am here for you, Ariadne,” she added, a warmness to her tone Ariadne had rarely heard from McGonagall. She nodded mutely.

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” she said, before returning to her breakfast. That day, she paid special attention to her classes, and took far more detailed notes than she usually did - she needed to remember every detail. She’d had a thought while reading the letter from their parents.

When she’d been adopted by the Grangers, Hermione had read to her and helped her catch up. Now it was her turn to return the favour. She was wound like a spring through Charms, as Flitwick explained various techniques and practical applications of the Revealing Charm, before the bell tolled.

CLANG!

Ariadne sprung into movement, hurriedly folding up her notes and carefully putting them in her bag after Hermione’s textbooks.

“All right, everyone pack up, you know the drill by now, gather ‘round. Except for you, Miss Granger, I believe Professor McGonagall said Madam Pomphrey would be collecting you?” Flitwick called as the class descended into cacophony. Ariadne nodded, not turning to face him. “All right then, I’ll wait until she arrives and then you can split off with her.” It was less than a minute of the awkward standing around before Pomphrey arrived, and the pair began in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

“Are you all right, Ariadne?” Pomphrey asked as they started up the stairs. “I see you’ve got that spell now, working a treat I hope?”

“It’s working well,” Ariadne replied, nodding slightly. “I’m… I’m um, I’m trying to stay calm.” She held up her bag. “Going to keep Hermione up to date on classes, Ron too if that’s all right. C-can’t really do that if I don’t stay calm.”

“Oh wonderful, good thinking, I’m sure Hermione will appreciate it. I’ll bring Ron’s bed over once we get there so you can sit between them,” the matron replied, patting her on the back gently.

“Thank you, Madam Pomphrey. Um, sorry, um, _Aurum Radia_.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I do have some lighter news for you, however; I’m nearly finished on the Estrogenating Elixir.” Ariadne looked up, happiness blooming in her heart again properly, for the first time in a little while. “I’ll go over it in more detail at an appointment in maybe a few weeks? I’ll send you a note with the date, okay?” She said, as they reached the entrance to the Hospital Wing. Ariadne put her wand away and took her cane from under her left arm and started sweeping it along the floor in front of her. “Not using the spell?” Pomphrey asked, confused. Ariadne shook her head.

“D-don’t want to see them like-like that,” she mumbled.

“Understandable, it’s a little disturbing myself. All right, over here,” Pomphrey said, leading her over to the curtain behind which Hermione lay, her magic calmer now albeit still shuddering occasionally before it jumped a little as Ariadne came through. “I’ll just bring Ron over, there should be a chair on her left?” She felt around for it, finding it and sitting down hesitantly. “Ron, I’m just moving you, Ariadne is here to see you and her sister,” she heard Pomphrey whisper.

“Hey Hermione,” she whispered. “I-I’m sorry for not um, not visiting you yesterday or the day before, we’re um, not allowed to go anywhere without a teacher so I didn’t know if I could.” She pulled her bag up onto her lap, straining slightly. “I borrowed your textbooks, I hope you don’t mind.” The curtain opened and Ron’s similarly caged magic was pulled into place on her other side.

“They’re all yours, Ariadne. I’ll be out here, and I’ll come get you when it’s dinner time,” Madam Pomphrey said, before pulling back out of the curtain.

“Thanks! Hey Ron. I noticed Hermione was conscious, so I should probably talk to you two properly!” she laughed slightly. “I’m going to try visiting as often as I can? You’ll be missing classes, so I decided I’d keep you up to date on study.” She turned to Ron, smiling. “And I know you’re probably groaning in there, Ron, but think of it this way: you’re not going anywhere, so you might as well listen. Oh! Ron, we got my spell working! I think I said that last time I visited but I didn’t know you could hear me.” Ariadne shuffled out her notes and pulled out the Charms textbook and put them on Hermione’s bedside table and scooted the chair around so she could face both of them. “So. In Charms, we’ve been going over the applications and theory of the Revealing Charm.”

\--

So became her routine every second night. It got easier every time, to speak to her friends without the possibility of response, but the first night she’d cried herself to sleep to the concern of everyone in the dorm. Quidditch practice was off as well with the season cancelled, so she spent the time she’d otherwise be doing that visiting them as well. It helped her concentrate in class despite Hermione’s absence, having the purpose of keeping the pair up to date, and allowed her to revise the work as a secondary activity while effectively being their teacher.

It wasn’t _all_ schoolwork she talked about. Sometimes she just… talked. About her life as it was happening. About when her appointment with Madam Pomphrey was, only a few weeks away, that sort of thing. Professor Flitwick had apparently enjoyed his spell-making sessions with the Grangers, and was contemplating starting a spell-making workshop on Thursday afternoons, in part to boost morale even if turnout wasn’t likely to be high. Ariadne wondered if she should go.

However, as Ariadne threw herself into her role of keeping her sister and friend up to date, she had pulled away from her peers again, just like she had after Ron and after her identity had been revealed. Her dorm-mates tried to compensate by chatting after dinner in the Common Room or the dorm itself and trying to involve her, but it only did so much. Eventually, some of them gave up, and Ariadne was content to be a social recluse as she fell into a repetitive routine of classes and Hospital Wing visits.

Sometimes, she had company in her visits - the Twins, Ginny and Percy would often accompany her to see Ron. Percy approved of Ariadne’s impromptu studying, but the Twins pretended not to.

Ginny it seemed was hit the hardest among the Weasley children by the two petrifications. Every time she came around the curtain, her magic shook so violently Ariadne didn’t know how the girl wasn’t crying. She never spoke, instead she allegedly held Ron’s hand.

Ariadne had steadfastly refused to cast _aurum radia_ inside the Hospital Wing despite becoming increasingly reliant on it elsewhere as opposed to her cane. The possibility of seeing Ron as he was was bad enough, let alone Hermione as well. It was looking like the Mandrake Draught would be done in time for the last month or month and a half of term, and Ariadne watched that date like a hawk.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many fun plans coming to fruition >:)


	63. No Bed of Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilderoy Lockhart has perhaps the worst timing known to humanity and Ariadne cracks under pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d hoped to publish this yesterday, but alas, life gets busy!

Hermione’s petrification had not just been horrible; it had had the absolute  _ worst _ timing. Not just because Ariadne had so many tests coming up and half a dozen essays due, that she could get on top of with some work, but because she was such a loner in times of stress.

And loners did not a thriving press relationship make.

It had been almost three months since her appearance in Diagon Alley, and thanks to the filters on the holding box, a steady trickle of letters had reached her instead of being held; letters from reporters at the Daily Prophet, a wizarding radio network and a smaller paper called the Quibbler - apparently the editor’s daughter was in Ginny’s year, a girl called Luna.

She had not, however, replied to any. With her life in the state it was, she was in no way ready for more media attention. But it was getting a little extreme. Identical letters were now arriving on a daily basis and every time, she’d stuffed them in her bag and put them away in her drawers.

So when Professor Lockhart intercepted her at lunch on a Saturday, she somehow knew it was nothing to do with the Defence essay she’d handed in that previous week.

“Miss Granger? A moment of your time, if I may?” Lockhart said loudly, already sitting down beside her.

“O-okay,” Ariadne said reflexively, scooching over without facing him.

“Well.  _ Someone _ ’s been ignoring her curtain call,” he told her. Ariadne frowned. “Oh don’t give me that look, I know you’re getting letters from the Prophet asking about interviews. And I should know, they’re starting to try go through me!” he exclaimed.

“Oh,” Ariadne mumbled. “Sorry.”

“You’ve  _ got _ to respond to these sorts of things, Ariadne! I’m not your agent, you’ve got a public figure to maintain. They’re already getting feisty, some of them think you’re hiding something. Now, they’ve mostly been trying to get me to, well, do this, get your attention. What have you been asked about?”

“Um.” Ariadne put her hands in her bag, but didn’t take anything out. “The WWN wanted to do something, the um, the radio show, which I don’t see how I can do until the holidays since they’re in London. There’s also that woman from the Prophet, she wants to talk, Rita. But there’s also one from this little one called the Quibbler? That one I might do, it’s just a bunch of questions I can write back about.” Lockhart laughed.

“The Quibbler?” he scoffed. “Oh you don’t want anything to do with those loons. They’re all conspiracy theories and imaginary creatures. Now, Rita, remember you want to keep her on your side. Radio silence is only going to make that harder, so you’d best organize that for next weekend. I can stand in, help you out if you want,” Lockhart told her. “And the WWN you should  _ definitely _ speak with. Might have to wait until the holidays, but radio shows are very good publicity and much easier, they can’t be selective with what you say.”

“Wh-wh-w-w-what do I send them?” Ariadne asked. She still didn’t want to do this, but if it stopped them from mailing her every day, it would have to do.

“Ah! Of course, you’ve never done that before. Got parchment?” he asked, before setting about helping Ariadne draft a letter to Rita Skeeter.

\--

Ariadne spent her week in a bundle of nerves. She didn’t truly know what Rita would ask about this time; previously, she’d had some idea. Her past, her school life, her ‘new’ family, etcetera. This time was a mystery. And obviously, Hermione had nothing she could add to Ariadne’s worried ranting. 

But nothing could stop the inexorable march of time as it raced forward to Saturday. And as it arrived, everything went steadily wrong. She had failed to sleep, tripped on the stairs on the way to the bathroom, her hair was an unsalvageable mess without any SleekEazy, and she could not for the life of her stop her hands from shaking enough to do up her uniform tie properly. She would have given up and worn more casual clothes, but she was worried about how poorly her wardrobe had rated with the reporter last time.

Then she realized she should really have sent an owl to Madam Malkin’s and organized something for photos. It would have worked so much better  _ and _ she’d have been paid for it.

“ _ Pulverio Umbra _ ,” she murmured, twisting her wand and putting on a slight bit more eyeshadow with it than she usually did. She had no idea if it would even slightly offset her - to put it lightly - rough appearance, but she had to try something as she waited in the Common Room for Professor Lockhart to pick her up.

Eventually, the man came through the painting door and from his immediate sigh was disappointed.

“Merlin, Ariadne, that’s  _ not _ going to work. If you’d leant into it, you could have made it work but now you’re just halfway between caring and a complete mess,” Lockhart chided her, before sighing again. “Come on then, we might just have to go with the ‘slept in accidentally’ excuse and have them use some of the old photos.” The Professor led the way back to the same place they’d been for her first interview. It was a shorter journey than Ariadne remembered, but perhaps that was just her mind failing to account for time in her nerves.

“Once more unto the breach, eh?” Lockhart announced before knocking on the door. Ariadne took a deep breath, holding her wand up as Lockhart pushed the door open.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she cast as she stepped through the door. The room was small, and she could see the rectangular columns arching back up to the roof and the window frames on either side. In the centre of the room stood a familiar chair, opposite the magical core of Rita Skeeter. With the magical wave sweeping over her, Rita had short-ish curled hair, wore large earrings and glasses, as well as a puffy-necked jacket with large buttons. She sat cross-legged in a similarly shaped chair, or at least she did before she stood.

“Ariadne! My, my, what  _ happened _ ?” she cried, coming over with her arms outstretched. “Oh no, no, this won’t do, this won’t do  _ at all _ !”

“S-slept in, ss-sorry,” Ariadne stammered, hanging her head a little. Rita shuffled around her a bit, the projected magic creating a strange shadow on her as she twiddled her fingers.

“Hmmm,  _ but _ , I think we can work with this. Let’s see, maybe we can keep a bit of the wild curls, make it look natural without -” Skeeter poked her finger into her hair, tugging painfully. “- all these tangles. Merlin, Ariadne, last time must have taken some work!” After a few minutes of embarrassing styling from the witch, who knew far more cosmetic spells than she did, Ariadne was finally sat in the chair after photos.

“Now. It’s been ever so long, you’re a hard girl to reach! I notice you didn’t bring your cane. Don’t you need that?”

“Hmm?” Ariadne tilted her head.

“To find things in front of you?” Rita elaborated.

“Oh. Normally, yes, but Professor Flitwick, Hermione and I worked together and made a spell! It’s si-simple, it… it just puts out a wave of magic that clings to surfaces for a while so I can see them. I can’t see colour, but I can see shape.

“How very interesting! So. How has your year been going?” Rita asked cheerfully, leaning forward with what looked like a grin on her face.

“Er,” Ariadne started, not sure where to begin. “Not… not good. Stressful?” she replied, scratching the back of her hair. “So-s-s-s-so-so much-so much has happened. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you, I’ve been really busy and- uh” she added, fiddling with her fingers.

“It’s perfectly all right, not to fret,” Skeeter said, putting a hand on her knee. The  _ aurum  _ spell was starting to fade, becoming more grey than blue. “And of course, you’ve every reason to… be having a hard time. I’m told that since we last spoke, two more students have been petrified, both of whom close to you?” Ariadne nodded glumly.

“Y-yes,” she replied. “H-H-Herm-Hermi-mi-mio-mione and Ron,” she mumbled, facing downward.

“Indeed - your  _ sister _ , and your best friend, both petrified. How’re you coping with that?” Skeeter asked as her quill scratched away in the air beside her.

“I-I’ve been visiting them,” Ariadne replied, lifting her head and smiling a bit. “Th-they can hear, so I’ve been kee-kee-kee- ...keeping them up to date on classes.”

“Oh that’s nice of you!”

“Hermione made sure I caught up with school when they adopted me, so, it’s sort of my turn, I guess,” she mumbled, before her heart rate shot into the stratosphere as she sensed Rita pull back a bit, tilting her head and frowning just as the aura spell faded. The quick-notes quill shot into action as Ariadne folded in on herself a little.  _ Please don’t ask about that _ , she thought, realizing her blunder a split second after it had left her lips.

“Well that’s very nice of you,” Rita said in a thoughtful tone. “But that’s about  _ them _ , what you’re doing for Hermione and him. What about you? How are  _ you _ coping?”

Ariadne sat, silent for a few seconds. How  _ was _ she coping? Idly, she pulled her wand out.

“ _ Aurum radia _ ,” she incanted, still thinking and put her wand back. The quill and pad hovering beside Skeeter was still writing furiously, its little piece of magic buzzing. “I, um,” she mumbled, internally ‘eyeing’ the magic quill. “I don’t-don’t-don’t-d-don’t know,” she admitted, sniffing and hanging her head. She felt like she was being squeezed. Skeeter looked down at her, probably looking over her glasses.

“Well, what are you doing with your time? Keeping yourself occupied, how are you dealing with things?” Skeeter pressed.

“I-I don’t know, studying?” Ariadne tried, instinctively shrinking in on herself and leaning away from the reporter.

“Well, if you’re not  _ coping _ , then how do you feel with all this? And on the topic of your  _ feelings _ … I hear things, Ariadne, and some people are wondering… whether you and Ron… are an item? Young love? Care to comment on that?” Rita asked, at which Ariadne drew back even further in disgust.

“No-no! R-R-Ron and I are j-j-ju-just-justjust friends! Just… friends,” she exclaimed, slurring her words as the feeling of being squeezed intensified and a tear escaped her left eye. Why couldn’t she just ask about other things?! “I-I… I’m… I don’t know!” she sniffed.

“Ariadne. You really  _ must _ give me something to work with! What am I supposed to print,  _ Girl Who Lived Confused _ ? My readers and I want to know what’s happening in that colossal brain of yours, there’s rumour and speculation running wild!” Rita complained. “You know, of the three attacks that have happened, two have been close to you. There are people saying you’re being  _ targeted _ , and I for one want to know how that sits with you.”

Targeted.

The thought had crossed her mind, but she’d pushed it away for fear of how dark it was.

But this made it real.

She was being  _ targeted _ .

Ariadne felt like she was being crushed. Like the wind had been forced from her as her heartbeat shot through the roof again and tears began escaping her eyes freely. Why did life have to throw her so many bad cards? Why couldn’t she just have been herself, why did she have to endure this?!

She couldn’t breathe.

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I can’t do this!” she spluttered as she dove out of the chair and ran for the door amongst the illuminated room, shoving it open with a cry and slamming it shut behind her, panting for breath.

“Ariadne! Ar- oh hell,” Lockhart yelled as she closed it. She slid to the floor, crying as her mind swam in fears and horror. In insecurities and terrifying possibilities.

She could hear voices inside, but for the moment, she didn’t care. Or she did, but not enough to push through her own crying and heartbeat thumping in her ears. They didn’t sound angry, at least.

She’d let slip that she was school-aged when she was adopted,  _ and _ that she’d missed some, in one breath. And Skeeter had noticed.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I admit. My writing style is “here’s an adorable OC, and now I’m gonna hit them with a club.” She’ll get a break, just… not yet. Angst brain has more.


	64. A Light in the Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne finds a distraction and for a few weeks, life isn’t quite as bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie the middle of this chapter has me cackling, enjoy.

Ariadne did not want to read the article written in the copy of the  _ Daily Prophet _ that had landed in front of her as she sat alone at breakfast on Monday morning. But at the same time, not knowing what the fallout of the disastrous interview she’d fled from was would only leave her unable to keep her mind off it. She sighed, and patted around for it before pulling out her wand.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” she said half-heartedly, prompting the words on the rolled up parchment to become visible to her as she unrolled it and was immediately met with a sickening article title:

_ GIRL WHO LIVED: VALIANT INSPIRATION, OR NERVOUS WRECK? By Rita Skeeter _

Off to a poor start. Luckily it wasn’t a long article, Ariadne noted, as it was followed by discussions of Quidditch which took up the rest of the front page. But it had still made the front page.

> _ In November of last year, I, Rita Skeeter, had the distinct honour of bringing to you all the true story of Ariadne Granger, the Girl Who Lived. However, after speaking with her again this past Saturday, I encountered a rather different form of the Girl Who Lived. _
> 
> _ Now, I may think her wardrobe a tad stuffy, but at least last time she put in an effort! The Granger I met in November was well-groomed, her hair tidy and her uniform freshly ironed. The exact opposite was true this week; her hair an utter mess, and her uniform crumpled like the contents of a waste-parchment basket. At least, for this, there was an explanation; she’d slept in later than intended. _
> 
> _ Our interview began cordially enough; Professor Gilderoy Lockhart once again escorted her, and we began with the lack of her probing cane; through collaborations with Professor Filius Flitwick, Ariadne and her sister produced a spell which takes advantage of her magical sense to allow her to sense shape and distance with precision, and as such she rarely needs her cane. However, I would note, she will not be able to use the spell over her school holidays when she returns to the Muggle world, and I suspect she has become over-reliant on it. _
> 
> _ After that sidetrack, I asked her how her year was going. “Not good,” she replied. We discussed the shocking events of Hogwarts’ 2002-2003 school year, wherein three students have been petrified by unknown agents claiming to have opened the legendary Chamber of Secrets; Colin Creevey, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger; the latter two of whom are Ariadne’s best friend and adoptive sister respectively. _
> 
> _ Understandably, this has her on edge. However, this line of curiosity quickly overwhelmed the little girl - our discussion was cut short by her screaming at me without warning and leaving me hanging. _

Ariadne threw the paper back down and buried her head in her hands, before pulling it back up. She skimmed the rest of that part, which called her a nervous wreck with a “perpetual stutter” and a coward, even going so far as to ask how she’d even gotten into Gryffindor House. She did her best to ignore those suggestions, and read the last little snippet.

> _ Her stress, however, led to a small detail that had previously been omitted in our discussions: Ariadne was adopted when Hermione was already at school, and it is implied that Ariadne had missed a lot from non-attendance. Among Muggles, primary school attendance is compulsory. _
> 
> _ We were led to believe that Ariadne was adopted quickly after the deaths of the Potters for her safety, but what I was told on Saturday would imply that she was at least five years old before her adoption, if not six or seven.  _
> 
> _ Professor McGonagall, acting Headmistress of Hogwarts who was involved in the operations to keep Ariadne safe, refused to comment upon this inconsistency, nor any element of Granger’s timeline or life. _
> 
> _ What else is the Girl Who Lived hiding? _

\--

Being accused of being a liar and an attention-seeker was a new dimension of fame Ariadne hadn’t realized. She had, however, endured far worse. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though. She tried to ignore the article, both its content and effect on the school’s rumour-mill, throwing herself even deeper into study and her practice of keeping Ron and Hermione updated.

She did not mention the article.

Time became both sluggish and rapid, one day she’d be bored out of her mind, the next she barely had time to think. And through this passage came Saturday, a day she’d actually been somewhat looking forward to. Professor Flitwick had been running his Spellcraft Workshop on Saturdays instead of his intended Thursday afternoons in order to get enough time. It had only been running for a couple of weeks and had only a small handful of attendees - mostly seventh year students wanting to have made a spell to put on their CVs - and Ariadne had been curious. She had an idea.

Nothing too complex, and not even truly its own spell - she planned it as a modifier to another, simple, spell. The idea had been based on something Hermione had had when they were little, but she had never been able to see. She wouldn’t have been able to see it even with the  _ aurum  _ spell either, but it was only inspiration. She  _ would _ be able to see this. On Saturday, she joined the other three attendees waiting for Professor Flitwick. The three were Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in her sixth year - whose magical core Ariadne could have sworn had been fluttering as Percy waited with her before departing - as well as Marilyn Trenevale, a seventh year Hufflepuff, and Lisa Walker, a seventh year Ravenclaw.

“Joining us, Miss Granger?” Professor Flitwick asked as she approached with her bag full of her old notes she took when they were making the  _ aurum _ spell.

“Y-yes, Professor. I-if that’s okay?” she mumbled, stopping short of them a bit.

“Of course! I never look down on learning, no matter how young you are.” Flitwick replied enthusiastically as the bell tolled. “Well, that’s nine o’clock, let’s be off.” In accordance with the rules of teacher escort, he walked them to a larger room than Ariadne’s usual Charms class, with a number of desks and open spaces - the radial spell also revealed to Ariadne the shapes of gigantic bookshelves on either side of the room as she took it in. “Oh good, you’ve cast it. Those empty spaces are, er, testing areas. Try not to wander through them when others are testing their spells, we don’t want any accidents. Now, before I just supervise you four, Ariadne, do you need any materials?” Flitwick asked as the others dispersed into the room, thanking him.

“Um, yes,” Ariadne replied, shuffling on her feet. “Do we have, um, the  _ Lumos _ spell schematics?”

\--

With that, Ariadne got stuck into her notes and parchment surrounded her within minutes. And it was an effective distraction from her troubles, she found, as the others offered help with her crafting problems which were far simpler than their own. She returned the next week as well, having made excellent progress and worked on it a little outside of the workshop having had inspirations while speaking with Hermione. After a while, she didn’t need any help from the others, and was chugging along nicely without interruption, headphones in and MP3 playing.

> _ Rebel Rebel, you’ve torn your dress! _

“Ariadne?”

> _ Rebel Rebel, your face is a mess! _

“Ariadne?” Flitwick asked, and Ariadne jumped, pulling the earbud out.

“‘M sorry, Professor,” she slurred as Flitwick stood beside her.

“It’s no worry, Ariadne. I was just wondering - your music, I could slightly hear it and I  _ swear _ I’ve heard it before. Might I ask what it is?” The Charms Professor asked in a surprisingly friendly tone. It was like he was just a random person. Why was he even interested?

“Oh!” Ariadne exclaimed. “Um, it’s  _ Rebel Rebel _ , by David Bowie. He’s a non-magical-”

“Wait, from the Diamond Dogs album?” Flitwick slid into the seat beside him, his magic-illuminated face suddenly a smile.

“Yeah… wait, you know him?” Ariadne asked, bewildered. What was this?

“Miss Granger, I  _ grew up _ on him.” Flitwick turned toward her a bit, his face lighting up even more. “I saw him play Rebel Rebel  _ live _ in 1974, the Diamond Dogs tour.” Ariadne could not stop a grin from spreading across her face. “May have, er, snuck out to go, I was sixteen at the time.”

“I- huh?!” Who was this man and what had he done with Professor Flitwick? Nope, that was definitely Professor Flitwick’s magical core. “You-  _ you _ snuck out of home to go to a David Bowie concert?!”

“Oh not home!” Flitwick replied, joyfully. “Out of  _ Hogwarts _ .” Now Ariadne was wheezing in half-laughter.

“Wh- _you_?! I didn’t- _what?!_ _You_ snuck out of _Hogwarts_ to see Bowie _live_?!”

“You know, Miss Granger, I  _ was _ a dueling champion in my youth, it’s not all charms and intellect up in this noggin,” Flitwick boasted. “But, my back’s gone to the dumps I’m afraid, my crowd surfing days are over,” he lamented.

Ariadne blinked.

_ Crowdsurfing _ ?!

\--

The  _ next _ Saturday, however, she managed to finish her work on the simple modifier to  _ Lumos _ before cutting her attendance short as Madam Pomphrey came to collect her.

It was the day of her appointment, and she was veritably giddy for the first time in a  _ long  _ time.

“Hold your horses, just stand still for a moment would you?” Madam Pomphrey laughed as she shot to the chair at Pomphrey’s desk.

“Oh-okay.” She stood as Madam Pomphrey took her wand out.

“Just need to do some checks, won’t hurt a bit.” With that, a warbling red cone spread over her, which in truth only tickled a little as Pomphrey passed it over her head and down her body before it dissipated. “All right then, let’s see. Looks like the Androgen Arrestor is doing its job well, no more nasty testosterone in there. Otherwise, a healthy twelve year old girl. All right, now you can sit down,” the woman said, before taking her own seat. “Not having any troubles from the Arrestor, no nausea, nothing?”

“N-no, Madam Pomphrey,” Ariadne replied. “And I’ve not gotten any taller, so,” she added.

“Good, good. Your parents’ permission slip came back all fine, so here, Ariadne, is the Estrogenating Elixir,” Madam Pomphrey span, bringing a vial about to the table. It was a little shorter than the ones she gave her the Androgen Arrestor in. “Now. I presume you read the sheet on its effects and side effects?” Ariadne nodded.

“Permanent breast development which will remain even if the Elixir is ceased, changes in the way my body distributes fat particularly to the hips, chest and jawline and skin in general which will revert if the Elixir is ceased. Side effects include a potential loss of fertility, reduction of, er, sex drive, potentially nausea and headaches, as well as increased emotional instablity normal to adolescence. Breast tenderness due to growth and potential weight gain due to increased appetite?” Ariadne recited, smiling as Pomphrey chuckled.

“Again, you’ve got that down word for word! Now, I do want you to remember, these changes will be  _ gradual _ . And you will be lagging behind your peers who’ve already begun a female puberty. However, you should have the same potential, just a year or so behind. The Muggle equivalents aren’t quite as effective.” Ariadne nodded. “You’ll be taking it at the same time as your Androgen Arrestor every morning, and I’ll handle the concentration changes that will mimic natural estrogen production through your adolescence.” She smiled and slid the vial forward as the  _ radia _ spell began to fade. “All yours.”

First, Ariadne drew her wand again.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she renewed the spell, so she could sense it in detail. She picked it up, spinning it about briefly before taking the cork from it. Within lay a magically purple liquid, glittering almost. Slowly, she lifted it to her lips and drank the whole thing.

It tasted sweet, unlike the tasteless Arrestor, as she smiled, excited. With the scrutiny on her life, she wished it wasn’t tainted by the inevitability of media commentary once those changes became unignorable, but until then, she was happy. She was quite literally skipping when she came over for that evening’s visit to Hermione and Ron.

“Hey Hermione! Bit early today, since I was up here anyway; Madam Pomphrey’s given me the Estrogenating Elixir!” The fluctuations in Hermione’s magic got that tiny bit greater, fluctuations Ariadne knew were happiness. “I’ll be behind everyone else, but I’m on it now!” She sighed. “I um, I’ve been thinking. Who-whoever Voldemort’s working through, they won’t like it when you get un-petrified, and Mandrake Draught hasn’t got a long shelf life. You found something, when you went to the Library, otherwise you wouldn’t have had the mirror out, right? I’m going to go to the Library, ask Madam Pince what books you read and maybe I can get the information too? Get it to Professor McGonagall, s-s-stop it from happening again.” Ariadne took out her wand. “Oh, and um, I’ve been working on something. Professor Flitwick’s been running a workshop for spell-making, and I went to that. I made something.” She fiddled with her wand nervously. The only tests anyone had seen had been in the classroom. “It’s like that night-light you had when you were eight? But-but I’ll be able to see it too!”

Ariadne stood from her chair and cleared her throat, raising her wand.

“ _ Lumos Astra _ ,” she said, waving her wand as a shower of pinprick sparks flew from the tip of her wand and came to a stop in the air a half dozen feet above Hermione’s bed. A field of stars, twinkling gently and drifting about, just like the projector night-light Hermione had been given for her seventh birthday. That night, both Grangers slept with a night sky twinkling above them, and in her heart, Ariadne knew Hermione liked it. She pretended she didn’t, but Ariadne knew she still used the night light at home occasionally. It had always helped her sleep when she was stressed, and if she had ever needed it, now was the time.

The Mandrake Draught couldn’t come quickly enough. It was only a week away, but it felt like an eternity. At least she had the time to figure out what Hermione had found in the Library, but she cursed herself for not thinking to sooner.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Flitwick is the only character whose age I have not altered to fit my ‘10 years later’ timeline because holy fuck rock-fan Flitwick is just TOO GOOD.  
> Also: Flitwick is a Boomer. :P  
> THERE YOU’VE HAD YOUR BREAK NOW I GET TO WHACK ARIADNE AGAIN xD


	65. Research Payoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne hits the library with only a little time to spare before the potential wrath of the Heir of Slytherin hits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh she’ll get a break, just give me a moment xD  
> Oh shit I’ve been misspelling Madam Pomfrey’s name this whole time.

It was Friday when Ariadne was finally allowed to visit the Library, infuriatingly taking much of the time she was supposed to be visiting Hermione. None of the teachers had been able to escort her there, not even McGonagall. Instead, they finally dragged Mister Filch into taking her. Filch hadn’t been too happy about it.

“I got far more important things to do, you know!” he ranted as they neared the Library. “So you find whatever it is you’re looking for and then I can get back to my duties!”

“I’m ss-sorry, Mister Filch. It’s about the petrifications, I-I think I have a lead,” Ariadne replied. She was genuinely sorry to have dragged him from his duties, she could tell just how razor-thin his nerves were. It seemed a cruel irony to task a man with no magical ability - although he did have flecks of blue and green within him - with maintaining Hogwarts, even before considering what must have been the constant reminder of the potential his life had denied him by being a ‘Squib.’ Once more, Ariadne felt they needed a better word for such events.

“Oh,” Filch barked, his magically illuminated expression softening as much as his face really could. “Well, er, you find that then. Stick it to whoever did this, off you go.”

“Thank you, Mister Filch,” Ariadne said, nodding. Filch didn’t seem used to being treated kindly, going off his face. Ariadne was getting better at reading expressions using the Blindsight Charm, as she’d taken to calling it, although she obviously couldn’t tell such things as blushing. With that, however, she set about her task.

Step one: talk to Madam Pince. Most students didn’t get along well with the librarian, who was intensely protective of the books in her library, but she and Hermione had found that simply respecting her wishes was enough to avoid her more unpleasant outbursts. She found Pince not at her desk where she’d expected, but instead filing away books that students had incorrectly put back in the wrong places.

“M-Ma-Madam Pince?” she called gently.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” Pince replied, stopping. “Something you need?” she asked curtly.

“Um, yes. Wh-when Hermione was petrified, she um she-she was looking for something in here. You wouldn’t happen to kn-n-now what she was looking for?” Ariadne asked, playing with her hands anxiously. Pince moved back a bit, probably thinking.

“Hmmm… that was a while ago. She was looking in the Magical Creatures section, I believe she mentioned serpentine creatures. That’s all I know.”

“Serpentine creatures. Okay, thanks!” Ariadne murmured, spinning and heading off toward that section.

“You’re welcome, Miss Granger,” Pince added, returning to her filing. Ariadne, however, regarded the wing with apprehension. The Magical Creatures section was rather large, so it would take her a while to find whatever Hermione might have.

“Okay. Snakes, let’s see…” she muttered, taking out her wand and pointing it at a shelf. “ _ Aurum  _ titles?” she cast, unsure if it would work. What little magical aura was present disappeared from her vision, replaced by a bank of vertical text along the shelves. “Good.” It was surprisingly time-consuming to find the books - nothing happened to her magic vision when she tilted her head, and she didn’t quite have a solid sense of direction to begin with. As such, she had to push through reading vertically as best she could, and eventually ended up with four books to begin with.

_ Bestiarium Magicum _ , by an ancient academy that no longer existed,  _ Slithering Horrors _ by Grimshaw Tanner,  _ Serpents of Northern Britain _ by Sylvia Quinnent and  _ A Directory of Magizoology: Reptiles _ by James E. Travers and Lana Wells. She started with the directory book; it didn’t provide much information, at best a basic description, but it would be a good launching point for further research.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink,” she incanted, lighting the text of the book and starting to flip through the pages. “Antipodean Opaleye, dragon native to New Zealand. Nope. Ashwinder, magical snake. Short-lived fire snake, created by magical fires. Probably not. Basilisk, quintuple-X class beast, heavily magical snake. Capable of killing with eyesight. Okay, sight related, Hermione had a mirror,” Ariadne thought aloud, making a note of it in the back of her mind. “Boomslang, highly venomous snake, not particularly magical. Fenny snake, also unremarkable,” she continued. “Gorgon; turns those who make eye contact to stone, probably mythical. Well, might have been a metaphor. Horned Serpent, common to North America, sentient and water dwelling. Probably not, if only Slytherin’s heir can control it. More dragons… no more snakes.”

Disappointing.

But, two had jumped out. She wasn’t sure if she should count the Gorgon, as it was most likely a myth, but a Basilisk was a plausible example. Ariadne cycled over and dragged the heavy  _ Bestiarium Magicum _ to herself.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink.” She flipped through the first pages and was surprised by what was a fairly uncommon thing among wizarding books; a table of contents. The Basilisk was supposed to be on Page 79. “Page seventy-nine, page seventy-nine, page seventy… nine?” she muttered as she leafed through to the page. Or rather, to page 80. There was no page 79. “What the hell?” She frowned. The book  _ skipped _ page 79. “Wait…” Ariadne ran her hand down the middle of the pages, and sure enough, the tattered edges of a torn page met her fingers.

Madam Pince would be furious. Frustrated, she pulled over  _ Slithering Horrors _ , which immediately turned out to be a novel, not a scientific book.  _ Serpents of Northern Britain _ also didn’t mention it.

The bell tolled, leaving an hour until curfew. She sighed, and put the books back as quickly as she could before returning to the door where Mister Filch was waiting.

“Thanks Mister Filch, um, would you mind taking me to the Hospital Wing? I need to visit Hermione before curfew,” she asked.

“Oh all right. Did ye find what you were lookin’ for?” he replied.

“No,” Ariadne lamented, shaking her head. “I was close, but the page was ripped out.”

“Ripped out? Oooohhhh, whoever did that’ll be in trouble. Pince loves her books,” Filch sneered. “All right, Hospital Wing, come on Granger,” he said. “All right if I leave you there with Poppy? I’ve got a lot to do.”

“That’s all right.” Ariadne hurried to the Hospital Wing, at least until she heard Filch panting and thought she should probably slow down. She liked being able to sense detail to the point she could get around quickly, but it seemed Filch wasn’t particularly athletic. Eventually, the caretaker left her in the care of Madam Pomfrey and she quickly felt her way over to Hermione.

“Hey Hermione. Ugh,” she groaned as she found the seat. “I w-went to the Library, didn’t get an opportunity until now. Madam Pince said you were looking at magical snakes, so I looked through  _ Directory of Magizoology _ , the reptile one, and the closest I could find was a Basilisk. But when I looked in the  _ Bestiarium _ book, the page was torn… out,” Ariadne said, rearing back as Hermione’s magic jumped. “Wait…” she trailed. “You reacted to that…  _ you _ tore the page out!” she exclaimed. Why would Hermione have torn a page from a book? Was she in a hurry? 

“I-... I’m going to check your pockets, sorry,” she apologized quickly, gently feeling for the side of her jacket to find the pocket. Carefully poking her hand into it, nothing. They only had the one pocket in the uniform.

However, as she pulled her hand back, she felt it brush against something else - Hermione’s hand, which she hadn’t known quite where it was. However, that wasn’t all, as she heard something hit the floor.

She wasn’t certain, but it  _ did _ sound like piece of parchment, and that was supported by Hermione’s magic jumping again. She got out of the chair she’d sat in and dove to the floor, patting around for the balled up parchment.

“Where was that…” she mumbled to herself as she flailed about awkwardly, glad nobody else was visiting at the time to see. “Aha!” she exclaimed, sitting up on the floor beside Hermione’s bed and whacking her head on the frame, balled up parchment in her hand. “Ow…” she whined as she climbed back onto the chair. She carefully pulled the parchment out, removing it from the scrunched up ball it was in. “ _ Aurum  _ ink,” she cast, as page 79 of  _ Bestiarium Magicum _ illuminated before her senses.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, as she scanned the page. “ _ Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the Basilisk. Capable of living for hundreds of years, instant death awaits any who meet this giant serpent’s eye _ . Except none of you saw it directly! You were probably looking around corners with your mirror, Ron was brushing his teeth so he must have seen it in a mirror as well, and they were talking about Collin’s camera when he was brought in! He must have seen it through the camera! Mrs. Norris… the floor was wet, does water make reflections? Probably,” she ranted excitedly. “ _ Spiders flee before it, and the crowing of the rooster can kill it, _ and then how they’re made… pipes. That’s your handwriting. Pipes.  _ That’s _ how it’s getting around without being seen, the plumbing!”

An image came to Ariadne’s mind - a coiled blue engraving on a tap.

“The  _ second floor girls’ bathroom _ !” she cried. “That’s why Mrs. Norris was right outside, and the blood on the wall! That tap! I bet that thing I saw was meant to be a snake, that tap has to be the key!” Ariadne’s face went cold. “ _ Myrtle died in there but she doesn’t know how _ … She was the one Riddle killed!” she hissed. “I… I have to get this to Professor McGonagall! I’ll see you tomorrow!” she exclaimed as she began running, before immediately tripping on something as she had forgotten her cane and still wasn’t using the Blindsight spell in the Hospital Wing. “Gah,” she groaned, getting back up. “Tomorrow… when you’re up and about again,” she said, whimsically. “Gotta go!” She didn’t have time to get Madam Pomfrey, who was in her office with another student. As soon as she was past the door, she cast the Blindsight Charm and started jogging toward the stairs. She needed to get to the first floor corridor, where McGonagall’s office was.

She was stopped in her tracks by a purple pulse of magic filling the hall and a voice ringing out across the entire school. McGonagall’s voice.

“All students are to return to their House dormitories at once.” That was strange. It wasn’t six o’clock yet. “All teachers to the second-floor corridor immediately.”

She knew what her destination was now, and it was  _ not _ Gryffindor Tower. She changed course toward the other set of shifting staircases, praying against all odds that they wouldn’t turn on her. Luckily, the green-glowing stairs remained inert as she shuffled down them hurriedly, and she jogged toward the corner of the second-floor corridor.

Immediately, she could sense the magical core of Severus Snape, as well as the corner of his cloak her Blindsight spell had caught, and she slowed down to be quiet. She didn’t want to interrupt, whether out of anxiety or curiosity she didn’t know.

As she leant against the wall, she heard Professor McGonagall speaking.

“As you can see, the Heir of Slytherin has left another message,” McGonagall said in a horrified tone. “Our worst fear has been realized, a student has been taken by the monster, into the Chamber itself!” She paused. “The students must be sent home. I’m afraid this is the end of Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall announced, grimly.

“So sorry, dozed off!” exclaimed Professor Lockhart, who from the sound of his footsteps, had just arrived around the corner. “What have I missed?”

“A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart, your moment has come at last,” Snape replied dryly.

“My? Mo-moment?” Lockhart spluttered.

“Weren’t you saying just last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” Snape asked, almost smugly.

“That’s settled. We’ll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy,” McGonagall announced in much the same dry tone as Snape. “Your skills, after all, are legend.”

“Very well!” Lockhart replied. “Ahh, I’ll just be in my office, getting um, getting ready,” he added, before the sound of his footsteps returned and he walked off again.

“Who is it that the monster’s taken, Minerva?” Pomfrey’s voice asked. It seemed she must have taken a different, more direct route than Ariadne.

“Ginny Weasley,” McGonagall replied. Ariadne froze as the sound of the Professors’ footsteps indicated their departure.

Ginny. Not content with  _ one _ Weasley, the Heir had taken a second. But why Ginny?

_ As you can see _ , McGonagall had said. Ariadne stepped out into the corridor slowly, confirming the absence of the staff. She held out her wand, hoping against all evidence that it wouldn’t work.

“ _ Aurum _ blood.” Like a horrifying omen, the dripping words warbled into view in bright blue in front of her, and she stepped back in shock.

_ Her Skeleton will lie in the chamber forever _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnn  
> So this begins. I’ve been having oh so much fun planning this, you’re gonna love it.


	66. The Fraudster and the Faucet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is rather disappointed upon finding the truth of Ginny’s so-called saviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even call taps faucets I just thought that title SLAPPED.

Ariadne stood before the bloodsoaked omen, frozen in both shock and indecision.

She needed to help. That she knew, but whom? Professor McGonagall was her first thought, but she probably hadn’t gone back to her office. If the studentry were to be sent home, she’d no doubt have been halfway to Gryffindor Tower at  _ least _ by now, to inform the Gryffindor students. And after that, she would be busy; arranging for the Hogwarts Express to take the students back to King’s Cross, not to mention the logistics of ending a school term prematurely as Acting Headmistress.

McGonagall had been taken out of the picture.

But there was one Professor who she knew would not be tied up in the evacuation of Hogwarts; Professor Lockhart.  _ And _ , he was the Professor who’d most benefit from the information, before he went after Ginny.

He said he’d gone to his office.  _ Third floor _ , Ariadne screamed at herself internally, swiping her wand from her pocket as she preemptively started walking backward.

“ _ Aurum radia _ ,” she cast and turned to break into a run, her feet slamming down noisily on the floor she hoped wasn’t slippery. The Blindsight Charm could reveal a lot to her, but not surface conditions. Luckily, the floor wasn’t sopping wet as it had been previously, and she veritably flew back the way she’d came toward the stairwell. “ _ Aurum radia! _ ” she exclaimed as she reached them, scrambling up them.

THUNK!

The previously green staircase flashed into orange and she was tipped forward as it shook.

“Woah!” she cried out, tumbling back down the staircase a few feet as it span around to another landing, before it collided with it and came to a halt, shuddering with the sounds of grinding stone. “Godammit,” she muttered, pulling herself back up and resigning herself to the long way around to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and on to Lockhart’s office.

Her hatred of the architect continued to burn.

“I’m in a hurry, thanks stairs,” she growled as she reached the third-floor landing. “ _ Aurum Radia _ .” Her footfalls echoed through the corridors as she hesitantly ran in the light of the fading Blindsight Charm, and eventually she reached the classroom, and she sprinted between desks to the stairwell up to his office.

“Professor!!” she yelled as she burst through the door. “I have some information for you!” Lockhart’s magic span suddenly, and the sound of a lid slamming shut filled the room.

She’d been in the office before - it wasn’t so magical she could tell where everything was, but she could sense that something was different.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she cast, worry filling her mind before the spell revealed a room full of suitcases and trunks, all his belongings neatly tidied away as he stood hunched over a trunk, his eyes wide.

That face meant fear, so she’d learnt.

“Going somewhere, Professor?” she asked.

“Er-er, well, yes, um, urgent call, unavoidable got-to go!” he replied, shaking his head about.

“And what about Ginny Weasley?!” Ariadne exclaimed.

“Well, um…” Lockhart spluttered as he leapt to another trunk, closing its latches. “As to that,  _ most _ unfortunate, no-one regrets more than I!” he said in his public relations voice as he tidied a stack of parchments on his desk.

“But you said you’d save Ginny, and that you knew where the entrance to the Chamber was! You can’t go now!” Ariadne yelled, rage boiling in her veins. How could the man responsible for at least similar heroism to his books now be so cowardly?

“Well I must say, when I took the job, there was nothing in the job description about monsters!” Lockhart exclaimed, snapping a case shut and curling around the desk. Ariadne blocked his way.

“You’re running away?! After all that stuff you wrote about?!”

“Books can be misleading! My books wouldn’t have sold  _ half  _ as well if people didn’t think  _ I’d _ done those things!” Lockhart protested. Ariadne took a step back, the metaphorical machine of her mind immediately figuring it out.

“ _ Just how much of those books were exaggeration _ ?” she snarled. In her heart, she knew the answer already. “You’re a fraud. You said if  _ you’d _ done those things, you’ve just stolen other people’s stories and claimed them as your own!” In her rage, she was slurring words, a fact she internally winced at. “How’d you keep it a secret?” she sneered.

“Now you mention it, I’m rather gifted with Memory Charms. Otherwise, you see, all those wizards would have gone blabbing, and I’d never have sold another book.” Lockhart turned and walked past her to another trunk. “In fact, er, I’m going to have to do the same to you.” Ariadne pointed her wand at the man’s back and waited for him to pick up the wand she’d seen glimmering on a side table the moment she’d entered.

Lockhart span, but Ariadne had faster reflexes. Two years of Quidditch training had made sure of that.

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ” she cried, as a silver beam shot at the man only a few feet from her, his wand flying from his hand and straight into Ariadne’s left. She quickly stuffed it into the small pocket in her jacket. “If you were anywhere near as skilled as you claim, that wouldn’t have worked,” Ariadne gloated. “And no wonder you’re useless at magic, no wonder your core’s all weird. Memory Charms are one thing but  _ sustained use _ ? It’s in the  _ Standard Book of Spells _ :  _ Sustained consecutive casting of the Memory Charm over a period of years has a cumulative deleterious effect, causing the user to lose memories and skills of their own _ . I bet you don’t remember a single day of school,” she explained, stepping back cautiously. “ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she recast.

Ariadne sighed.

“You don’t even really know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets  _ is _ , do you?” she asked.

“Er.. no,” Lockhart replied in a defeated tone.

“Good thing I have a theory. Come on, we’re going back to the second floor corridor. You can have your wand back when we get in, Professor,” Ariadne ordered, sternly. “Oh and when you do, remem-ember: I’ve got eyes in the back of my head. You even  _ think _ about Obliviating me, I’ll be taking it right back.” It didn’t do anything to her magic vision to tilt her head down menacingly, but she could do with intimidation if it kept Lockhart where she needed him. Hopefully he could still at least be useful. Lockhart shuffled out of the door, striding down the stairs. While he did, Ariadne stayed still for a moment, buttoning up her jacket so that the man’s wand wouldn’t fall out.

Ariadne followed the man with her wand pointed at his back the entire time - she didn’t trust him for a moment not to run.

“What was it you had to tell me, Miss Granger?” Lockhart called over his shoulder as they reached the second floor.

“Oh, er, information on what Hermione and I think the monster is,” she replied.

“I thought Hermione couldn’t talk right now?”

“N-no, but she had the pa-pa-parchment-parchment in her hand. W-ww-w-we-we-we believe it’s a Basilisk, but the, er… eye contact killing thing didn’t work because every time the victims have seen it indirectly; Hermione and Ron through mirrors, Collin Creavey through his camera, and Mrs. Norris its reflection in the water,” Ariadne replied.

“Clever,” Lockhart said.

“Does Hogwarts have chickens? A rooster crowing can kill it,” she asked.

“I uh, I don’t think so?” Lockhart replied.

“Ugh, that would have worked. No way Hagrid kept them, too boring. All right, it’s in the bathroom,” she said, flicking her wand in a gesturing motion. “ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she added as Lockhart pushed open the doors and the pair walked in.

It was the first time Ariadne had been in there since they’d found the diary. Before her was unveiled the central pillar surrounded by basins and taps, as well as the walls of a small section of the wing of stalls, the slice that had been caught by the spell. As Lockhart cautiously walked in, Ariadne saw Myrtle floating above the stalls, humming a tune with her head lolling back before she span to face them.

“Huh? Who’s there?” she asked. “Ohh. Hello, Ariadne. What do you want?” Ariadne faced her, still pointing her wand at Lockhart.

“First, to ask you… how you died? Well, if you remember anything from just before you died, I know you don’t remem-ember the actual dying bit.” Ariadne replied politely.

“Oh… it was dreadful,” Myrtle replied. “It happened right here, in this very cubicle,” she said, pointing down at the one she hovered over.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne said, illuminating the wing so she could sense it.

“I’d hidden, because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying, and then, I heard somebody come in,” Myrtle continued.

“Did you ever find out who it was?”

“No. I was… distraught. Distraught, story of my death,” Myrtle hiccuped, floating down to Ariadne’s level. “But they said something funny, a kind of made-up language, it shook the floor a lot. I realized they were a boy, so I unlocked the door to tell him to  _ go away _ , and… I died,” she said.

“Did you see anything just before you died?” Ariadne asked, frowning.

“Yes. I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes… over there by the broken sink,” Myrtle pointed at the tiny glimmer of blue adhering to a tap.

“Thank you, Myrtle. That’s… that’s very informative,” Ariadne said slowly. “Definitely a Basilisk,” she called to Lockhart. “Myrtle here didn’t have a mirror, she looked it right in the eye. The entrance is related to this tap somehow, there’s a magical snake engraving on it,” she added, leaning over the tap.

“If you’re blind, and the Basilisk kills by sight… doesn’t that make  _ you _ immune?” Lockhart mused. Ariadne stepped back a bit.

“Probably? Depends on how the magic works, if you just have to sense it visually or if it actually uses the eyes. Visually, no, eyes, yes.” Ariadne fiddled with the tap, spinning it around both ways. Nothing. She tried pulling it up, then pushing it down, nothing. Screwing it? Nothing. “How do we open you?” she asked of nobody in particular.

Within herself, the static-y flecks of her magical core flared bright as she spoke and she jumped backward as the whole room shook. She could feel the unpleasant vibration through her feet as she felt her own voice reverberate through the floor, and the coiled snake on the side of the tap flared in unison with the bits in her own magic.

The whole room began rumbling, as the entire tap structure lit up with orange magic. The top cistern detached entirely and rose up into the ceiling. Each segmented basin, mirror and tap piece slid outward as if they were on rails, and revealing empty space behind them. The marked tap stopped, and then fell into the floor. It slammed to a stop, and was covered by what sounded like a grate.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ !” Ariadne exclaimed. Before her was a pit, a hole descending down into a void. “H-how-how-how did I do that?!”

“ _ Merlin’s beard, Ariadne _ !” Lockhart cried. “You never mentioned you were a Parselmouth!”

A Parselmouth? An individual capable of Parseltongue, speaking to snakes? How was she a Parselmouth?

She dreaded the fact that it had been accompanied by the flecks of static within her glowing.

“I… I didn’t know…” she mumbled. She stepped back and pointed her wand more resolutely at Lockhart.

“Regardless, well… I, uh,  _ there’s no need for me to stay! _ ” Lockhart exclaimed, spinning and running.

“NO!” Ariadne screamed, throwing herself into his way. She desperately tried to grab at his arms, but the man was too heavy and she found herself slammed to the floor as he ran from the room. “ _ COWARD! _ ” she shrieked after him as his magic vanished down the hall and she pulled herself up. She patted down her own jacket, and pulled his wand from her pocket. “Well, if you don’t want it back,” she said to herself, returning it to the pocket.

With Lockhart gone, that left Ariadne with no options.

Who could she tell about the Basilisk? Lockhart was useless and most likely would have run before she got to his office, and she didn’t know where anyone else  _ was _ .

She couldn’t just leave the Chamber of Secrets open and go looking for teachers, she realized as she paced in a circle.

She was the only one who knew what the monster was. She was the only one who knew  _ where _ it was.

_ She  _ had to stop the Heir of Slytherin. Her breath became heavy as she leant over the  _ pit _ that led to nowhere as far as her sight was concerned. She held her wand out.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she muttered, and watched as the wave revealed the tunnel descending for a number of metres, before sloping off ahead of her. “Okay, okay, it’s a slide. I can handle that. I can handle that, right?” she worried, stepping back and spinning on the spot, breathing heavily.

“You’re going to go down there, aren’t you?” Myrtle asked, hovering nearby.

“Yeah,” Ariadne breathed. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I? I-I-I  _ have _ to. I have to save Ginny. Oh Merlin...” she wavered. “I’ve faced Voldemort before. I can do this.” She may have been facing Myrtle, but she was not talking to Myrtle. It was herself who needed convincing.

She put her wand away and sat at the edge of the pit, and took a deep breath.

“Ariadne?” Myrtle said, behind her.

“Hmm?”

“If you die down there, you’re welcome to share my bathroom,” Myrtle told her, smiling.

“Th-thanks, Myrtle,” Ariadne replied, smiling wryly. Deep breath.

And she let herself fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember in Chapter 51 when Lockhart said he didn’t know it’d be Rita Skeeter? If you reread 50 with that in mind, you’ll notice something.  
> And here we go!


	67. Riddles Resolved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne descends into the Chamber of Secrets and immediately regrets her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy am I having fun right now.

Darkness immediately enveloped Ariadne as she veered down the slide, screaming and well out of the fading Blindsight sliver which fell behind her within moments, and she immediately regretted jumping. Her terrified voice echoed around her as the tunnel began to twist and turn and her stomach threatened to turn just as much from the disorienting, scraping slide. Ariadne desperately flailed her hands out into the tunnel to attempt to slow herself down, but found it both far too smooth to work and far too rough to tolerate touching at speed as she grazed her fingers on it.

After at least a minute of nauseating descent, she was suddenly tipped sideways by a particularly tight curve in the tunnel and was thrown from it onto what felt like a gravel floor. Down here, there were flecks of green, orange and white magic coating the occasional patch of wall, so she could tell it was a tall circular chamber, but beyond that, nothing.

Ariadne pressed her right hand against the floor to bring herself upright again, and gasped as she was immediately met by the crunching of bones and squelching of mud. Hurriedly standing and wiping her hand off on her cloak, she pulled her wand out with her left.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she said, panting. Beneath her feet were what must have been hundreds of skeletons, tiny skeletons. Rats? Mice? She hadn’t seen either of those creatures with the Blindsight Charm before, as Percy was taking care of Ron’s rat in the meantime, but the bones were small enough. “Ugh,” she groaned. The walls had a rough, stony texture, lined with bricks and two tunnels at ground level - the one she’d fallen down, and one slightly higher up, which she could only assume was the way forward. Above were also a few more holes which must have led elsewhere. “Ohh, I should have gotten McGonagall...” Ariadne whined quietly as she passed her wand back to her right hand, cursing herself for the hubris of thinking she could take on the Basilisk.

But not knowing the way back aside from trying to climb back up the slide, after which she knew was a sheer wall, she had no other choice than to go forward and try. She stepped over to the higher passage, and climbed up, cringing at the damp stone. She cast the Blindsight Charm again as she stood, as the original hadn’t caught the floor. It wasn’t a slide at least, but it did descend on a shallow angle for a ways.

“This was a bad idea…” she muttered to herself as she walked down it. Luckily it wasn’t so damp she’d slip, and it levelled out after a few metres. Further along, she could sense what looked like a four-way cross in the pipe, and she hoped it wasn’t a maze down here. “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay Ariadne,” she murmured to herself, emulating what she imagined Hermione might say as she breathed heavily. She stopped. “Am I? Probably not, but we might as well be optimistic,” she sighed, continuing to walk slowly down the tunnel.

Luckily, as she entered the intersection, to her right were some fairly immediate clues. A pile of green magic lay in the void past the rightmost porthole, and behind it, a large blue circle. She span, pointing her wand at the immobile clump.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she whispered, not knowing what lay ahead. Within was not the cylindrical brick tunnel she expected, but instead, a triangular gash of a cave, littered with stalactites and stalagmites. The spell also revealed the texture of the clump of green - a long, undulating, scaly form.

Ariadne held her breath as she slowly and gently approached the lip of the circular entrance, her wand outstretched at the form. It wasn’t  _ moving _ , at least. She stepped up onto the lip, and cast her mental eye around for any stones.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she whispered, pointing her wand at what looked like a small stone a few metres away. The golden arm of the spell reached out and grabbed it, having it hover. She pushed it a ways further away from her, until it was on a right angle to her from the mass. Then, Ariadne flicked her wrist, willing the spell to cease. The arm disappeared after flinging the rock which was only coated in magic on one side, and it flew toward the mass.

Pap, clunk thunk clunk.

It hit with a soft impact, before rolling onto the floor.

No reaction.

“Hmmm…” Ariadne hummed, stepping forward again. As she got closer, her depth perception regarding the mass improved, and she realized it was almost… deflated. Collapsed. Was the Basilisk already dead? No, if it were, it would probably still have a skeletal structure and not just deflate like a balloon.

No, a Basilisk was a snake. And snakes moulted. This wasn’t the snake itself. This was its  _ skin _ .

And the skin was  _ gigantic _ . It was still coiled up weirdly, but from end to end it had to be at least sixty feet long. And the Basilisk itself might have been larger if it was still growing.

“But why is the  _ skin  _ still magic?” Ariadne mumbled, stepping along beside it. If the skin was out here, the Basilisk could be too, she had to be careful. “Hmm…  _ incendio _ ,” she whispered, flicking her wand at it. The red sparks shot out from her wand, but instead of adhering to and setting fire to the skin, they bounced up and into the ceiling, vanishing. “Ah. Magically resistant hide,” she said, as if she were taking notes. “However, might have recently shed, magic resistance might be weaker. Or would it be stronger from the new skin?” Ariadne took another deep breath.

“Okay,” she mumbled, taking a step back. “Basilisk. Quintuple-X dark creature, magically resistant hide, capable of killing with eyesight. Killed by the crowing of a rooster, lives for centuries. Pretty big too,” she recited. “But apparently I speak Parseltongue? Maybe I can convince it to leave me alone. I need to get Ginny out and go.” Did she know the way out? No. But she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

She turned to face the second magical source in the cave. Now she was closer, she could see a number of details in the circular structure. It had a large, spiralled cylinder on the left side, flanked by seven snake-shaped protrusions that curved out to the rest of the plate; each their own structure separate from the base.

“Another door,” Ariadne said. She took a breath. “ _ Open _ ,” she ordered it, and once again the ground shook with her command. Unpleasant vibrations flitted through her feet, and the alien magic within her flared in unison with the bright blue of the door.

An eighth enchanted snake slid out from behind the hinge, rolling around the edge and causing the other seven to retract back as it came past, slithering along the edge. 

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

CA-THUNK

The sound of a latch uncoupling filled the gash-like cave, and the door pendulously swung open. Behind was enough green, orange and white magic for her to again sense vague shape, a cylindrical opening behind before a much larger chamber past it.

This was the Chamber of Secrets.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she muttered as she slowly stepped up to the edge of the door, and the blue wave shot forth and revealed the cylindrical passage as well as the iron structure of the back of the door. Behind was a pair of handrails which led down, possibly a ladder, and beyond was the arched sloping ceiling of a much larger room, dotted with stalactites.

Ariadne winced as she put her foot up, hearing the sound of her shoe colliding with iron and reverberating far more than she wanted. Gritting her teeth, she leant forward and pulled her back foot up. As she got higher, she sensed something, far in the distance, below the line where the spell had caught.

The yellow, blue and red magic core of Ginny Weasley. There was something else too, a tiny thread reaching off into the distance, but she couldn’t sense it well enough to make any sense of it.

“Ginny!” she whispered, hurrying forward and casting the Blindsight spell again to reveal the ladder and the floor below. It was lined on either side by eight statuesque snake heads, and at the end, the face of a bearded man looming ominously over Ginny. As she carefully stepped down onto the ladder, the door’s magic flashed once again and it swung closed. “Oh I hope that works both ways…” she muttered to herself as she tried to hurry down the ladder. At least she could sense it properly, she hadn’t used a ladder since before the spell had been made. She span as she finally made contact with the floor, and felt herself slip slightly.

Wet floor. Of course the floor was wet, she realized as she noticed that the spell hadn’t adhered to the ‘ground’ around the statues. It was just water there, which tended to absorb magic or diffuse it. It didn’t keep magic well enough for her to see. Ariadne began walking with intense purpose, not trusting her footing enough to run or even jog, but she powerwalked down the aisle as quickly as she could.

And as she got closer, her scar pricked in pain as she noticed a familiar static.

The diary was lying atop Ginny’s form, as she lay still on the ground. From Ginny’s flickering magical core to the book was a line of her magic, sullied by static, and from the book, another line which stretched out to Ariadne’s left. She splashed through what felt and sounded like a puddle as she approached and the floor got even wetter.

As she was only ten feet from Ginny, she tried to stop and slipped off her feet as she saw what the second line was attached to in the void to her side.

A human figure, it and its robes made entirely of static, standing with its arms behind its back. Ariadne scrambled back to her feet, flailing her wand toward the figure.

“Voldemort…” she hissed, every muscle in her body shaking. The figure stepped forward.

“Only a memory,” he replied in a far younger voice than Ariadne remembered from the dungeons less than a year prior. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years. But of course, your inconvenient little ability to see magic made me known to you, I see.” He kept walking forward.

“Stay back!” Ariadne yelled.

“Or what?” Voldemort asked. “You’ll kill me? You can’t kill a memory, Ariadne,” he sneered. “Your little friend here has shared quite a few with me. Such a deliciously confused little girl.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was Ginny Weasley who opened the Chamber of Secrets, Ariadne,” Voldemort said.

“She can’t have,” Ariadne replied. “I’d have seen it if you were possessing her,” she added as a rumbling sound exploded far above them. What it was, she had no idea, but she didn’t have time to contemplate it.

“Oh I know,” the man replied, pacing around her. “Such an inconvenience. But it was no bother to make sure she stayed quiet when I wasn’t in control. It was Ginny who set the Basilisk on the Mudbloods, the blood traitor and Filch’s cat. Ginny, who wrote the threatening messages on the walls. Not that she knew what she was doing, at the time.” The figure sighed. “Still, the power of the diary began to scare her. She tried to dispose of it a few times, but after her brother it was only a matter of time before she found a way she couldn’t get it back. She tried to dispose of it in the girls’ bathroom, and then, who should find it but you? The very person I was most anxious to meet.”

“Why me?” Ariadne asked, frowning at him.

“I knew I had to talk to you, meet you if I could. But it just so happened I couldn’t speak to you, but your Mudblood sister, Hermione. Ginny told me all about how clever you two were. I decided to show her my capture of that brainless oaf Hagrid, to gain your trust.”

“Hagrid’s our friend!” Ariadne exclaimed. “Besides, we saw right through you.”

“Yes, I thought you might. Far too much contradictory information, yes? I knew I had to get Hermione out of the way. And it worked. Ginny said you were dependent on her early on, and just as I expected, you didn’t chase me. Until now. I admit, I hadn’t expected this… I’d expected to have to come find you once  _ this  _ was over, but you came.” Voldemort stopped moving. “How  _ did  _ you get down here?” Ariadne smiled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Why are you connected to Ginny?” She demanded. Voldemort exhaled in irritation.

“Of course, you can see that as well. An exceedingly irritating trait. You see, little girl, as she grows weaker, I grow stronger. She’s still alive, but not for long. But since I’m telling stories; a question for you,” the figure said, spreading his arms graciously. “How is it, that a baby, with no extraordinary magical talent was able to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you-” Ariadne scoffed, cutting him off.

“Greatest wizard of all time? I killed you when I was a year old,” Ariadne said, thinking back to the history books Hermione had read her. She smiled as she had an idea. “You know, Hermione read me a lot of history before you froze her. I seem to recall Voldemort being defeated time and time again before I was even born. By Albus Dumbledore.” Voldemort flinched. “He was the one wizard Voldemort feared. Why would he fear him if Albus Dumbledore weren’t the  _ actual _ greatest wizard of all time?” she added, smiling sweetly.

“Dumbledore’s been driven from this castle by the mere memory of me!” Voldemort protested.

“Oh give me a break. Dumbledore’ll be back, as long as everyone here’s still loyal to him. Oh, and mere memory of you? Nobody has any idea it was you other than me and Hermione.” Ariadne replied, feigning confidence when in fact she could have sworn she was shaking like a feather in a hurricane.

The resulting silence was broken by the piercing cry of birdsong. Behind her, from a great hole in the ceiling, descended what Ariadne recognized to be the magical core of Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore’s pet phoenix she’d seen the year before. And he was carrying something - a bundle of purple magic. The bird swooped down toward her, dropping the bundle and swooping around as Ariadne flailed for it. As it hit her hands and she partially unfolded it, Ariadne realized what it was. The Sorting Hat, dormant, but definitely the Sorting Hat. She frowned as she held it.

“So this is what Dumbledore sends his great defender? A songbird and an old hat?” Voldemort strode back toward the gigantic statue as Ariadne fumbled with her wand to renew the Blindsight Charm.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she said as the figure reached an arm toward it, and the static magic of Voldemort flared into life.

“ _ Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four! _ ” she felt him say. He didn’t say it with his mouth, what left his mouth was a string of hisses. But she could  _ feel _ him say those words, through her feet almost. There was a rumbling noise as the mouth of the statue, freshly revealed behind the figure who hadn’t impeded the spell’s wave, began to descend and Voldemort turned. “Let’s match the power of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin against the famous Ariadne Granger,” he declared, as a huge green snakehead ascended past the slowly dropping mouth, marked by two orange, glowing magical eyes.

The Basilisk was here. Ariadne started backing away, her breath coming in short bursts as she tried to get away as quickly as she could. At least her hypothesis of immunity due to her blindness was true.

“ _ Kill the one with the whitened eyes _ …” Voldemort commanded it. Again, she felt it through her feet, not with her ears, as she turned and started to try to run.

It was closing. The mouth of the well-defined creature opened, revealing two rows of glimmering, magical white teeth as it hissed at her.

She fell, her foot slipping on the wet stone. She slammed into the floor, landing on her shoulder. In a panic, she span on the ground and yelled.

“ _ STOP! _ ” she screamed, and once again, the staticky magic within her flared and the whole Chamber shook through her feet.

“ _ What?! _ ” Voldemort exclaimed, jumping. The Basilisk reared back, hissing, and stopped.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m aware Tom Riddle says in the movie “Parseltongue won’t save you now, Potter! It only obeys me!”  
> I am choosing to believe he’s a liar.
> 
> Also there seems to be a formatting error that AO3 adds to italics? I'm not adding those spaces.


	68. Heir of Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After commanding the Basilisk to stop, Ariadne must find some way to get it out of the way while she destroys the Diary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to those reading as I post for the cliffhanger - but that chapter WAS just under 3000 words long, I had to break it up xD  
> Also: holy shit y'all! Twenty thousand hits! I didn't expect that to happen when I started writing this, much less before we even finish movie 2!

Ariadne stood shakily as the Basilisk’s magical form swayed and she smiled. It had worked, the snake would listen to her too, Heir of Slytherin or not.

“ _ Retreat _ ,” she ordered, slowly backing away as well. To her relief, the gigantic snake began to turn, as it looked between her and Voldemort.

“ _ No! Attack! The one with white eyes is deceiving you! _ ” Voldemort shouted, the chamber vibrating with the Parseltongue speech and the air filled with guttural hisses. Ariadne’s chest tightened as the Basilisk swung back around, hissing aggressively.

“ _ Lies… LIES! _ ” it roared, its gigantic voice shuddering through Ariadne’s entire body as it lurched forward.

“ _ Stop! _ ” she cried, to no avail as the Basilisk continued to advance toward her and she backed away as quickly as she could, also to no avail. “ _ Bombarda! _ ” she yelled, thrusting her wand at its face but the bead of red energy simply bounced straight off the beast and detonated one of the adjacent snake-head statues. “Nooo!” she cried, tripping over as the Basilisk was only metres from her and curling up into a ball on the ground.

The gigantic snake reared its head, triumphantly hissing.

“ _ KILL!  _ **_KILL!_ ** ” it thundered. It was over. Ariadne Granger was about to die, she was certain of it.

The Basilisk began its charge down toward her, head plummeting down toward her, jaws wide, ready to swallow her whole.

And then, it stopped, looking up as the sound of phoenix birdsong filled the Chamber once more and the glorious magic of Fawkes descended back into the cave, hurtling toward the roaring snake. The phoenix latched onto its head, and Ariadne uncurled in shock as fleshy, piercing noises filled the air and the Basilisk roared in pain.

_ Fawkes was biting out its eyes _ . With the Basilisk blinded, the pair would be on an even footing.

“NO!” Voldemort shouted as Ariadne slowly stood back up, her wand in the air as she recast the Blindsight Charm to sense, indeed, Fawkes biting at the Basilisk’s eyes. “Your bird may have blinded the Basilisk, but it can still  _ hear you! _ ” He yelled. Ariadne, however, knew a little better. The playing field was a little more even than Voldemort had realized.

“Are y-y-y-you sure about that?” she asked as she slowly crept to the side. She leant down, and pointed her wand at a stone behind her. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she cast, and immediately flung the rock past herself and toward Riddle. The Basilisk hissed angrily and lashed out, smashing into one of the statues. She flung it again, this time closer to one of the adjacent pipes. “You really are the young, stupid version of Voldemort, aren’t you?” she called, legitimately confident. “Snakes don’t have ears, they feel vibrations in the ground.” She slipped out of her shoes, carefully placing them back on the ground. As she’d expected, the Basilisk hissed and gave chase into the pipe she’d led it to as Fawkes swung back up and out of the Chamber. “That’s why Parseltongue has that vibration to it, it’s why I could hear it through the walls. I can talk as much as I like, and as long as I don’t run around it’ll just be chasing mice.” With her wand poised, she slowly crept in her socks - cringing at the damp that permeated her feet - over toward Ginny again.

“Clever. But I care not if you die by Basilisk fang or by my hand. You can’t stop it, Granger. The process is nearly complete,” Voldemort gloated, as Ariadne kneeled down to the Weasley. “In a few minutes, Ginny Weasley will be dead, and I will cease to be a memory.” She frowned as she felt Ginny’s hand - cold as ice. “Lord Voldemort will return… very… much…  _ alive _ .”

“Will you now?” Ariadne muttered. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she added as she plucked the diary out of Ginny’s arm. It didn’t interrupt the connections between it, her and Voldemort, which at least told her distancing them wouldn’t do anything. She aimed her wand at it.

“ _ Incendio _ ,” she muttered, willing red magic to splash out at the book. She gasped as it caught, but her heart sank as the staticky magic of the diary intensified and it beat back the flames. “What the-  _ finite incantatem _ ?” she cast questioningly, watching the wave of magic dissipate harmlessly off the book’s cover.

“Did you think it would be that simple, Ariadne?” Voldemort asked. “As if I could be so easily killed. Try your silly little second year homework. I’ll be here when she’s gone.” Ariadne growled in frustration, standing back up. Voldemort paced idly around the floor, humming to himself.

“Come on, Ariadne, think, think,” she muttered to herself, realizing she was still holding the Sorting Hat.

BANG

Voldemort jumped. The whole Chamber shook with an impact far down the aisle.  _ Outside the door _ .

BANG

BANG-BANG

“ _ Nonononononononono _ !” Ariadne cried. Behind her, from what must have been a concealed pipe underneath the surface, erupted the glowing green magic of the Basilisk into the air, spitting and hissing with the built up fury of a millennia as water sprayed across Ariadne’s back and she stumbled, falling to the ground. The diary careened from her hand onto the wet floor.

BANG

BANG BANG

The Basilisk turned, focusing entirely upon the exit to its own home and slithered toward it, aggressively hissing.

Flopping out of her hand and onto the ground, the Sorting Hat grew brighter. No, not the Sorting Hat… something  _ inside it _ . The glow built for a few moments, to a point it was almost painful for Ariadne to behold, until it solidified into a glorious, silver, crossed shape, visibly engraved and pitted with gems. Ariadne rolled over and swapped her wand into her left hand as she pulled at the object with her right.

Impossibly, out from the hat came a long, thin, blade, lined with oscillating magic and engraved with a name descending along the centre, the shape of which Ariadne could sense.

GODRIC GRYFFINDOR.

Ariadne sat, mouth agape for a moment as she comprehended just what this was.  _ This was the Sword of Gryffindor _ . The legendary goblin-forged sword crafted for Godric Gryffindor, and evidently just as powerfully magical as the legends would indicate.

The diary had shrugged off flames, but perhaps this would be enough.

Ariadne grinned at Voldemort, gently turning it in her hand before she yelled, thrusting the sword down at the offending book which sat a few feet away from Ginny.

And it was deflected by a shower of static sparks as a boom echoed through the chamber and the Diary flared bright.

“What?!” Ariadne exclaimed. “How was that not enough?!” she asked of nobody in particular before instinctively looking up as the Basilisk reacted to the sound of the Sword clashing against the wet stone. It had stopped moving, and was instead contemplating its surroundings. “Unless it’s not to… oh come on,” Ariadne mumbled as she realized the Sword had not been presented to her to destroy the  _ diary _ with. No, it had been given to her to destroy  _ the Basilisk _ .

Maybe it would be enough to slice it open. If she stepped softly enough… Ariadne slowly got up, trembling like a leaf about to fall off its branch in autumn, and began stepping toward the gently moving mass of green hide. Thirty or so feet away from her, she could sense the exposed, white glowing teeth of the Basilisk jerking from side to side as the Basilisk tried to make sense of what was now a chaotic echoing rumbling and banging originating from outside the Chamber but vibrating through the entire structure.

CRUNCH

She felt her foot go straight through what had to have been the skeletal remains of a mouse.

The Basilisk span its head directly toward her as the anomalous vibration reached it. Panic filled her, her heart shot into her throat. It was only so long before the Basilisk struck her, she realized.

Abandoning her stealth approach, Ariadne took a deep breath and sprang forward. Awkwardly holding both her wand and the sword in both hands, she screamed as she hacked the sword down toward the gigantic snake’s midsection in front of her.

If this wasn’t enough, she was dead.

The blade swung down with a metallic ringing, and hit the armoured hide of the Basilisk.

And glanced off, a shower of green sparks flying off the scales. A shrieking hiss filled the space as the snake jumped and span its head toward her as her arms went limp in despair.

The head slowly approached, hissing as the hide around its mouth was briefly hidden from Ariadne’s senses, as if its tongue were in the way as it tasted the air.

“ _ Yes! There! Kill her! _ ” Voldemort yelled, the voice reverberating through the floor as the Basilisk shot forward toward her, the midsection swinging around behind its head. With both the Sword and her wand in her right hand, she desperately swung at the nose of the snake to no avail, as it knocked her off her feet and she slammed onto the ground, only just avoiding hitting her head on it. The Basilisk roared triumphantly, as it threw its head down again, mouth agape to take her within, glowing white teeth beaming with light.

And the inside of the mouth completely dark.

Inspiration struck Ariadne just as she swung her right arm back up, her wand pointing down the blade as the teeth were but a metre from her.

“ _ BOMBARDA! _ ” she screamed as it hit her.

The Sword sliced into the roof of its mouth, the blade glowing intensely as it pierced the soft inner flesh, just as one of the teeth stabbed into Ariadne’s arm, pain erupting through her entire body as the tooth intensified fiercely.

And a bead of red energy shot out from her wand and into the unprotected flesh of the already screeching Basilisk’s mouth.

In the years to come, Ariadne would have wished she’d seen the outcome. But without a magical coating, she certainly could not see the cloud of viscous flesh and blood that exploded around her, coating her in viscera as the head of the Basilisk detonated, flinging bits of glowing hide all across the Chamber and the horrible, wet, fleshy rupturing sound echoed through the space.

Behind her, Voldemort jumped as Ariadne screamed in pain, falling back to the ground with the tooth still embedded in her upper arm. It was still brighter than it had been when it was in the Basilisk’s mouth, as she felt the poison burn into her veins.

“GAAARGH!” she screamed as she desperately tore it out of her arm, her magic sense already blooming and becoming diffused. The magic of the diary got even brighter, as the lines between it, Voldemort and Ginny intensified. Ariadne pushed herself up on the blade and her wand in her right hand, almost collapsing as the arm threatened to give way as she held the tooth in her left. The Sword was still oscillating magically, as if it had been activated, as she painfully approached the diary on the floor and Ginny.

She was right, it wasn’t just her deteriorating magic sense - the activity in the diary had increased. Why was Voldemort accelerating his plan?

Because he was worried. Even her blurry magic sense could tell that the tooth had more power than the Sword of Gryffindor had.

She collapsed onto her knees as she reached it, the sword and her wand falling from her hand as she weakened. She was as good as dead. But if it was the last thing she did, Ariadne Granger would take Voldemort with her again into the jaws of death.

“Remarkable, isn’t it? How quickly the venom of the Basilisk penetrates the body.” Voldemort gloated as she struggled to reach for the book. “I’d guess you have little more than a minute to live. You’ll be with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Ariadne.”

A minute to live? That would do. With a renewed ferocity, she slammed her hand down on the diary and dragged it toward her, kneeling over it.

“Funny, the damage a silly little book can do, especially in the hands of a silly little girl,” he added. Ariadne, breathing heavily, opened the book to a middle page, holding up the fang. “What are you doing?” Ariadne brought it up, holding it like a dagger in her good arm. “Stop! NO!” Voldemort yelled, starting forward, but too late. 

Ariadne swung the tooth down, stabbing it into the page. The figure lurched, the power of the diary starting to vibrate wildly as it was wiped from the pages, a magical fluid spraying from the ‘wound.’ Ink. A hole had formed in Voldemort, she realized, as the connections to both him and Ginny sparked and began to die. Voldemort roared in pain and anger as the hole in his chest widened, and as Ariadne pushed the tooth further into the book. He lurched forward as she pulled the tooth out, trying to reach for her before she stabbed it into the other side. The diary got even more desperate, as Voldemort clutched at his evaporating face.

It was almost done, but she needed one last blow. It was holding on as best it could, and Ariadne closed the book, and raised the tooth again. Gritting her teeth as her whole body burned in agony, she brought the tooth down one last time, slicing into the front cover of the diary. Voldemort convulsed, forced to spread his arms wide as his entire form jettisoned sparks and waves of energy, as he screamed. With one final flare, the figure exploded into magical shrapnel, bits fading as they hit the ground around her and her hair was blown back. The diary faded from her increasingly blurry sense entirely, as the connections to it ceased. Ginny’s magic returned to its usual strength, and Ariadne heard her gasp.

At the same moment, Ariadne cried out in pain as every inch of her body burned and she collapsed onto the floor, shaking. This was it. She was about to die.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter *would* have been released last night but I got distracted by a youtube series that goes over creating an alien biosphere.


	69. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Diary destroyed and Ginny Weasley saved, Ariadne resigns herself to her impending doom before she realizes what else Fawkes can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice.

The image that dominated Ariadne’s mind as she groaned in pain was Hermione’s face - the blue outline she’d seen a few times before her petrification.

She’d never sense the face of her sister again. It made her wish she’d used the Blindsight Charm in the Hospital Wing, she had only ‘seen’ her a few times for one day months before.

Hermione would never see  _ her  _ again. Her parents would never see her again. The Grangers would lose the daughter they’d worked so hard to support, from a scared, traumatized six year old to this.

Dying in a damp, smelly cave, soaked in the blood of the creature that had killed her.

“Ariadne?!” Ginny exclaimed, shooting up. “Oh my god you’re-  _ are you okay?! _ ”

“N-- gaaaaaaaaaargh - no,” Ariadne replied, curling up into a ball in pain. “Basilisk… poison…” she pushed out. “You need- to get yourself-  _ out _ ,” she strained, before a splitting pain filled her head.

The shriek of Fawkes filled the Chamber again, as half her magic sense, blurred beyond comprehension, registered the bird’s magic drop in and it encompassed her mind. Her ears were ringing and she felt like she would vomit.

“Th-thanks for- hnngggggg - blinding it, Fawkes,” she struggled to say as the bird seemed to land beside her. “Really helped.” The bird got closer, eclipsing any and all magic around her as her mind struggled to comprehend what was around her. And then, a different glow. A gigantic blue blur filled that side of her mind. “Wh-GARGH!” she exclaimed as something hit the wound and the burning got worse there. The glow spread to cover her entire, as she incoherently pieced together some facts. “Ph-phoenix tears… Phoenix tears!” she realized with a jolt as the violent pain subsided from her arm outward and her magic sense began to focus again. “H-hhh-healing powers,” she mumbled. Ariadne leant over and picked up her wand. “ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she cast, revealing the bird to her side, the massive carcass of the Basilisk with half its head ruptured like a popped balloon, and Ginny’s awestruck but worried face.

“You’re okay…” Ginny mumbled. “But, but you’re covered in blood!” Ariadne smiled wryly.

“It’s not mine,” she replied, tilting her head toward the dead snake.

“Oh…” Ginny exhaled, her magic briefly jumping as she turned toward it and saw the Basilisk. “I-” Ginny’s magic suddenly leapt into shuddering movement, as if it were attacking itself and she tensed. “I… didn’t… mean… to…” she said, more difficulty in every syllable before she forced out the final word and almost fell over as if she’d neared passing out.

“Woah woah woah, you okay?” Ariadne leapt forward to catch her. “He made sure you couldn’t talk about it, didn’t he?” Ariadne asked, remembering what Voldemort had said about keeping her quiet. Ginny’s magic shuddered again as she tilted her head down with great difficulty, before she lolled forward, her breathing erratic as she came even closer to passing out. “Hey hey, stop. I’m not gonna be able to  _ carry _ you out of here,” Ariadne said, going to pull her into a hug before remembering how disgusting that would probably be for Ginny given her bloodsoaked state. Ginny half laughed, before the laugh became a cry. Ariadne couldn’t quite tell, but there were probably tears falling from her eyes. Ariadne shakily stood up, shaking the last of the mental sleep from her metaphorical eyes, and slipped her wand back into her pocket before picking up the Sword of Gryffindor. She was going to take the diary too, but Ginny was holding it.

BANG

Another gigantic boom reverberated around the Chamber from the door.

“What was that?!” Ginny exclaimed, jumping.

“Um…” Ariadne started. “I- I think someone’s trying to get in? Come on, I can open the door.” Ariadne started slowly making her way along the Basilisk’s carcass. Ginny quickly followed, going to hold Ariadne’s hand before cringing at the blood and just hanging close behind her. As they reached the ladder, Ariadne waited for Ginny to get up before facing the door. “ _ Open, please _ ,” she asked of it, and once again the corresponding flashes within her and the glowing door signalled it opening, alongside the thunking sounds of the snakes releasing. The shuddering outside stopped abruptly.

As the door swung open, Ariadne was shocked to see the magical cores of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick directly outside, their wands outstretched in front of them.

“ _ ARIADNE?! _ ” McGonagall veritably shrieked as Ariadne renewed the Blindsight Charm to see the horrified expressions on both professors’ faces, at which she froze.

The wrath of phantom Voldemort was one thing, but the fury of Professor McGonagall was another.

“Oh my goodness!  _ Are you all right, Ariadne?! _ ” she exclaimed. Ariadne nodded, remembering how grizzly she must have looked.

“I-i-it’s n-not-not-not  _ my  _ blood, Profe-fessor,” she said, simply.

“ _ Then whose is it?! _ ” McGonagall asked, bewildered and horrified as Ariadne pointed behind her.

“Basilisk.” Both Flitwick and McGonagall gasped as they looked past her.

“How did- what?!” McGonagall spluttered.

“The-the hide was ma-magic-magically resistant, but but but the inside of its mouth wasn’t. I used  _ Bombarda _ , and Fawkes healed the bite, so…” Ariadne explained.

“ _ YOU WERE INSIDE ITS MOUTH?! _ ” McGonagall yelled. “ _ Merlin _ , I thought last year was bad enough with that godforsaken troll! And now you go running off down here to fight a Basilisk  _ alone _ ?! Miss Granger, explain yourself!” McGonagall sounded both incredibly proud of Ariadne’s accomplishment but also seriously worried. At least, that was how Ariadne chose to interpret it, since it was better than pure horror.

“W-well, Hermione found out what it was. J-just before she was petrified,” Ariadne began. “I only found out today, when I found the page she’d torn out, which talked about it. I’d seen the snake on the tap so I thought that was probably where it was, so when you called the other teachers to the second floor I thought I’d tell you. But you said Lockhart was dealing with it, so I went to his office to tell him.” Ariadne said slowly, trying her best not to stammer but finding it difficult. “He was, he was packing, but I managed to get him to come with me, but he ran away after I opened the entrance.”

“Yes, Myrtle told us,” Flitwick said shakily. “Lockhart’s nowhere to be found. We couldn’t get the entrance open, none of us can speak Parseltongue, so we just blew it open. Good old  _ Bombarda _ , nice to see it’s served you well.” Ariadne smiled.

“I didn’t know where any of you were, I didn’t know who to tell, but I-I-I knew I couldn’t just leave it open so I, er, I went in. I thought maybe I’d be able to handle it. Because I’m blind,” she added. “Basilisks kill with eyesight, so I’m immune. I thought maybe I’d be able to get past it, and then get Ginny out.”

“And given your current state and possession of the Sword of Gryffindor, Sorting Hat and Fawkes, I presume that didn’t go as planned?” McGonagall asked, sternly, as Ariadne realized that Fawkes had landed beside her. Ariadne hung and shook her head. She turned to Ginny.

“M-may I?” she asked, reaching toward the diary. Ginny’s magic spasmed again but she forced herself to nod, shaking, and Ariadne took the book from her as Ginny couldn’t release it. “This was a, a, uh, a memory, of Voldemort. It was working through Ginny, but he did something to her and she can’t talk about it,” she explained as Ginny sniffled. “Voldemort was in the middle of, of killing her to bring himself back. I stopped him, but I had to kill the Basilisk to get one of its fangs to do it.” She felt for and then pointed to the massive hole in the book which was now invisible to her.

“Be that as it may, I am extremely disappointed, Miss Granger.” McGonagall said. “This rash behaviour is becoming a theme with you, first the troll, then Quirrell, now this! I hope you realize that the only reason you’re not getting a month of detention for this is because to be quite frank, I expect this experience alone should do! And I also hope you realize how lucky you are.  _ No _ second-year student could have been expected to take on a Basilisk  _ and _ You Know Who and come out alive, let alone  _ having won _ .”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Ariadne mumbled, shrinking in on herself a little. “I w-w-w-w-w-ww-won’t-won’t-won’t-won’t do it again.”

“I should hope not!” McGonagall replied. “Gave me a heart attack when Myrtle came to get us.” The Professor stepped over the nearby stones to reach her. “Oh dear, to say you need a shower would be an understatement. Ginny, are you all right?” Ginny hesitantly nodded as McGonagall drew her into a gentle hug. “There there, Miss Weasley, you’re okay. All right, let us find our way out of here.” Ariadne renewed the Blindsight Charm, as Ginny’s magic began shuddering wildly as Flitwick and McGonagall began back toward the entrance of the gash-shaped cave.

“G-Ginny knows the way, she just can’t say it,” Ariadne called, stepping over to the first-year. “D-don’t-don’t try to say it, just lead the way.” Ginny nodded and mutely extended her hand for the book, a worried look on her face as her magic shuddered slightly.

“Oh. Okay, you can hold it for now, okay?” Ginny nodded slightly, grimacing. As she took it, the shuddering stopped and she quietly began to lead the group up another of the tunnels from the four-way intersection, while Fawkes flew back up the hole he’d first descended from.

It seemed the cataclysmic forces the Professors had unleashed upon the door had collapsed a large section of the tunnel over the discarded skin, but it had been held back up by a series of green magical panels, not unlike some of how the Burrow had been held, Ariadne thought as they passed it, and followed Ginny. Remembering how Ginny had tried to hold her hand before, she did her best to wipe her hands off on her similarly soaked robes, and once satisfied, tapped Ginny on the shoulder. Ginny flinched, but took the offered hand with a smile, accompanied by an ever so slight fluctuation in her magical core.

“Thank you, Ariadne,” Ginny said quietly as she helped Ariadne up a tricky pile of rocks. “For… for saving me.”

“That’s all right,” Ariadne replied, making sure her footing was secure before taking the next step. “I couldn’t just leave you down here.” Behind her, she heard McGonagall asking Flitwick why he’d taught her such a destructive spell as  _ Bombarda _ .

“Thanks,” Ginny smiled. “You er, you look kinda cool like that,” she added quickly as her magic fluctuated again.

“Huh?” Ariadne smiled, confused, as Ginny turned her face away. “Oh.” She sniffed her own arm. “Yeah but I smell really bad,” Ariadne added, laughing. Ginny sniffed the air.

“Oh _ Merlin _ , yeah you do. Stinky,” Ginny replied, laughing too as she wafted the air away from her nose with the diary in her other hand. Eventually, Ginny pushed open a grate they’d reached, which from the nighttime sounds seemed to lead to the edge of the Great Lake.

“I didn’t know that this opened, curious,” Flitwick noted as he stepped out. After McGonagall followed, Ginny closed it behind them, and demonstrated that it didn’t open from the outside. “Ah. That makes sense.” Upon casting  _ aurum radia _ on her surroundings, Ariadne found that they were indeed at the shore of the Great Lake, nearby a path to the castle. Following it, Professor McGonagall spoke up as they got to the castle.

“Professor Flitwick, if you wouldn’t mind escorting the girls back to Gryffindor Tower? Professor Dumbledore should be back by now. Miss Weasley, I’ll need the artifact, and Miss Granger, the Sword and the Hat,” she said gently, holding her hands out. Ginny jerkily held out the book, wincing as her magic shuddered violently. The girl screwed up her eyes and her arms tensed as McGonagall took hold of it, and the Professor had to pull it from her hands. As it was released, Ginny gasped and fell sideways, clutching a wall, breath heavy. McGonagall sighed. “Perhaps the Hospital Wing would be best. Wake Poppy, would you Filius? She needs to give Miss Weasley a look over. Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore will likely want to see you in the morning, come see me at breakfast.”

“Right. All right, this way you two,” Flitwick replied, staying beside Ginny instead of walking ahead of them. Ariadne held Ginny’s hand all the way to the Hospital Wing, after which Madam Pomfrey told her in no uncertain terms to go back to Gryffindor Tower, take a heavy shower, and go to bed. She could come back in the morning, to be there when Hermione and Ron were resuscitated.

The shower and bed were no problem - well, no, the shower was difficult as she was caked in dried Basilisk blood and she had no idea what she was going to do with her uniform - but sleeping was another matter, and Ariadne lay awake in her bed, the events of the evening playing over in her mind, and she knew she would only descend into a nightmare if she slept.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll take this opportunity to explain something I’ve wanted to but also that won’t be said properly in the story so:  
> I’ve treated the Diary during this as much like the One Ring. Ginny poured her confusions and deepest secrets into it, and Tom reached into her; he didn’t need to possess her to stop her from talking because he made her own magic do it for him. Her own magic was preventing her from talking, which Ariadne put down to anxiety. But he also instigated a compulsion to always reclaim the diary. She tried to get rid of it multiple times, especially after Ron. She hid it, but she would always be forced by her own magic to go get it again. Flushing it down the toilet was sending it where she could never find it. But when it was back in the girls’ dormitory, it called out to her and forced her to reclaim it.  
> He did it like that because Ginny told him that Ariadne could see magic, and he knew that someone who could see magic would KNOW if he was possessing someone. Direct possession outside of attacks was not an option. But of course, the effects of the Diary on Ginny endure; just like Frodo’s Nazgul wound and the effects of the One Ring.


	70. Emancipations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Ariadne is called to Professor Dumbledore’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how some chapters are like, whole months or even years in the early days back when we were fast-forwarding through Ariadne’s childhood but the last 5 were like… one evening.

Ariadne sniffed tiredly as she heard the tower bells toll for seven o’clock in the morning. She yawned as she sat up in bed, having not slept. She couldn’t stop thinking. About the Basilisk, about every clue she hadn’t had the information to connect. About Ginny, and how easy it would have been for her to notice if she hadn’t assumed Ginny was just anxious.

Ariadne sighed to herself. She didn’t have to keep worrying about it. It was over.

For most people. Not Ginny Weasley though. Ariadne couldn’t help but wonder how the younger girl had fared overnight, given her magical attachment to the book.

She’d have to visit her as well, when Ron and Hermione were brought out of their petrification. That day, the draught should have finished its quality testing, and be would be ready. She scratched her cheek and opened her curtains, swinging her legs out.

“Oh! Ariadne!” Sally-Anne exclaimed, jumping. “You’re… you’re back.”

“Huh?” Ariadne asked.

“You’re back, we were uh, we were worried about you. You didn’t get back last night, where were you?” Sally-Anne asked. Ariadne realized with a jolt that it was unlikely anyone knew yet.

“Oh, um. It’s-it’s-it’s a long story. But I killed the monster in the Chamber of Secrets,” she replied, smiling.

“What?!” Parvati exclaimed, laughing slightly.

“That’s where I went. Hermione figured it out ages ago, before she got petrified, but she couldn’t tell anyone. I found it out and.. I was going to leave it to Lockhart but he ran,” Ariadne explained. She sat up straight suddenly, reaching for the jacket that had apparently been inexplicably cleaned overnight. Within, no worse for wear, was Gilderoy Lockhart’s wand.

“He  _ what _ ?!” Lavender gasped from behind her curtains, pulling them open suddenly.

“He-he-he’s a fraud!” Ariadne said, smiling. “Nothing he put in his books was true, or at least it wasn’t him. He memory charmed everyone who  _ did _ do those things. He was going to do the same to me but I disarmed him,” she added, slowly pulling out his wand with a smug smile, which was met by immediate gasps. “Professor Flitwick said he was nowhere to be found.”

“Oh my god…” Lavender muttered.

“So what was it?” Sally-Anne asked, her magical core jolting forward slightly.

“What was what?”

“The monster of course!” Parvati laughed.

“Oh!” Ariadne exclaimed, laughing at herself. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . It was a Basilisk! Big snake, kills people when they see its eyes, but but but but but but, nobody saw its eyes directly! Hermione and Ron used mirrors and Collin had his camera!”

“Oh my god you were  _ immune  _ to it!” Sally-Anne whispered.

“Yeah! Then, thenthen then, Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix? Came and blinded the Basilisk, but snakes don’t have ears so I lured it away with rocks to save Ginny!” Ariadne exclaimed, eagerly, voice running faster than her brain somehow.

“Wait. Ginny?” Kellah asked, rolling over from her bed where she’d been listening quietly.

“She got, er, abducted. Don’t tell anyone, she’s pretty sensitive about it,” Ariadne hurriedly said. “But then Professor McGonagall and Flitwick came to rescue me and it came back to where I was, and andandand I got the Sword of Gryffindor! It was about to eat me when I stabbed it through the head! Its-its-its hide was resistant but its mouth wasn’t so I blew it up at the same time!” She was boasting, she knew. But she was glad to have it in the past. She yawned again and stepped up to go downstairs. “Th-that’s why I came back so late,” she said. Answering their eager questions as best she could, Ariadne shuffled downstairs to find a bit of a crowd gathered in the Common Room around the noticeboard.

“Look at this!” Seamus called as Dean ran down the stairs. “The monster in the Chamber of Secrets has been destroyed! We’re not going home!”

“Really?!” Dean exclaimed. “Oh wow!”

“And the restrictions have been lifted!” Neville added. Ariadne passed them, grinning from ear to ear as she stepped out of the portrait door and out into the halls to go to breakfast. There was a renewed cheer to say the least in the Hall, as students came and went as they pleased even more than before the restrictions were put in place. Flocks of students were taking meals and eating in the corridors, or even having picnics on the grounds. However, Ariadne had things to do, and let her peers go have fun while she quickly ate.

Yawning, Ariadne stood up and recast the Blindsight charm, and headed up to the head table where Professor McGonagall was waiting. The charm was giving her a headache that morning, probably due to getting no sleep, but she’d left her cane in the dormitory before she’d noticed and she wished she hadn’t.

“Ah, Miss Granger. Come along, Professor Dumbledore is waiting,” McGonagall said, standing up and stepping between the two main tables to join her. “Did you sleep well?” She asked warmly. Ariadne shook her head, yawning again. “Oh, that’s a shame.” McGonagall reached into her pocket with a sound not unlike a plastic wrapper, then reached over to Ariadne’s hand, slipping something out of her sleeve. “Have a biscuit,” she said, the outline of her face briefly smiling warmly.

“Wh-” Ariadne spluttered, a bewildered smile breaking over her face as she crunched down on the gingernut.

“I always carry biscuits, Miss Granger,” McGonagall replied. “It’s good for student morale,” she added, patting Ariadne on the back. “I’m not sure about Muggle gingernuts, they’re a bit hard.”

“Mu-muggle ones? H-h-how did you get them if you’re here?” Ariadne asked, still chewing.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, young lady,” McGonagall said. “I order them by owl, there’s an excellent service in London which takes owl orders for shopping. Even from Muggle stores, nicely. I hear custard creams aren’t bad, so I might try those next.” Ariadne smiled, and McGonagall laughed. “I’ll give you the name later. Here you are.” McGonagall stopped in front of the gargoyle, and waited as Ariadne stepped up to the marked stair. “Sherbert Lemon,” she said, and the staircase began to ascend, carrying Ariadne with it. As the rotating staircase shuddered to a halt, Ariadne stepped up and knocked on the door. Instead of a verbal response, it simply opened. Dumbledore’s office was much the same as it had been when she’d first entered the room - some of the arrangements were a little different, but Dumbledore sat at the main desk.

“Ah, Miss Granger, come in please,” he called. Casting the charm, Ariadne found the room even more intricate than she’d realized, with a number of non magical objects filling the space as well. She carefully stepped up the levels to stand in front of Dumbledore’s desk, at which she could sense the glittering magic of a number of objects including the Sorting Hat and the Sword of Gryffindor. “Professor McGonagall informed me of what transpired in the Chamber of Secrets overnight,” Dumbledore started. “She tells me you, alone, entered the Chamber and to omit a large number of details, destroyed the Basilisk within, destroyed the Dark artifact containing a fragment of Lord Voldemort, which had controlled Ginny Weasley, and saved her. I’m also told you’ve cleaned up a considerable amount since returning,” Dumbledore chuckled. “However, as I am sure Professor McGonagall has intimated; in those few hours, you broke perhaps a dozen school rules.” Ariadne shrunk in on herself.

“Yy-yes sir.”

“And there is sufficient evidence to have you  _ expelled _ .” As Ariadne’s mouth hung agape as she fell into despair once more, Dumbledore spoke again. “Therefore, it is only fitting… that you receive the Special Award for Services to the School.” Ariadne jumped slightly.

“Sir?”

“As well as two-hundred points to Gryffindor, for your outstanding courage and effort. Killing a Basilisk, even while blind to its murderous sight, is a feat many wizards would never achieve. And I must thank you, Ariadne.” Ariadne looked up. He’d refused to even speak her name last time they spoke. “You must have shown me real loyalty, down in the Chamber.” Ariadne frowned. “Nothing but that could have brought Fawkes to you,” he said.

“I-I was just trying to wind him up, really. V-Voldemort always feared you, so…” Ariadne explained, carefully. Dumbledore nodded as the Blindsight charm faded and she recast it.

“Second, I must, er. I owe you an apology. My actions and words in your first year were… an expression of my being a foolish old man, shall we say?” Dumbledore added, awkwardly. “You are a wonderful young woman, with a wonderful family borne not of blood but of love. And I am truly sorry, that my foolishness caused you such pain. Miss  _ Granger _ .” Dumbledore stood, picking something flat off his desk, as well as the book, before the door opened behind Ariadne as she nodded. Behind her, were revealed two magical cores. One was tall, with green, blue, and gold flecks and the other…

“ _ Dobby?! _ ” she whispered, spinning as the pair strode in. She frowned toward the pair; who was this man? Whoever he was was directly responsible for what had happened that year.

“I’ll deal with you later,” the figure said to the elf, and Dobby flinched before the man moved forward.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne cast, revealing a man with long hair, and elaborate snake pins on his cloak, as well as a large cane that looked like he was using it ornamentally. Dobby was a short humanoid, with large, bulging eyes of she could almost tell the direction they looked in, with large droopy ears and a concerningly rough-looking garment, and he followed the man fearfully, glancing around the room like a scared animal.

“Out of my way,” the man spat, pushing her aside with his cane to her annoyance. “So. It’s true. You  _ have _ returned,” he spat.

“When the Governors learnt that Arthur Weasley’s daughter was taken into the Chamber, they saw fit to summon me back,” Dumbledore said, emotionlessly. As the man stepped up to Dumbledore’s level, Ariadne saw his magic jump a little and his head twitch down. He must have seen the diary, she thought.

“Ridiculous.”

“Curiously, Lucius, several of them were under the impression that you would… curse their families… if they did not agree to suspend me in the first place?” Dumbledore added.

Lucius. That name was familiar.

_ Lucius Malfoy _ . Blood purist, former Death Eater who claimed innocence, father to Draco Malfoy.

Draco’s gloating made so much more sense now. He may not have been the Heir, but he had known something was afoot.

“How  _ dare _ you?!” Lucius exclaimed.

“Beg your pardon?” Dumbledore asked gently.

“My sole concern has always been and will always be, the welfare of this school, and of course, its  _ students _ ,” Malfoy protested, stepping forward as Dobby stood beside Ariadne. He turned to face the girl, before inhaling sharply and turning back to Dumbledore. “The culprit has been identified, I presume?” he asked, his magic getting increasingly stressed.

“Ah, yes.” Dumbledore murmured.

“And?” Malfoy implored. “Who was it?” Dumbledore paused, before raising his head a bit.

“Voldemort.” Lucius’ magic got even more erratic.

“Ah,” he merely said.

“Only this time, he chose to act through somebody else. By means of  _ this _ ,” Dumbledore told him, holding up the diary, at which Ariadne was surprised to see Lucius did in fact have the capacity to get even more stressed without showing it outwardly. She didn’t know expressions very well, but what she could tell from, he did look worried however as Ariadne smiled. She had him.

Dobby pulled at her sleeve as Dumbledore put down the book, and she tapped him on the shoulder.

“I know,” she whispered as quietly as she could.

“Fortunately, our young Miss Granger discovered it,” Dumbledore continued. “One hopes that no more of Lord Voldemort’s old school-things should find their way into innocent hands,” he said, pointedly. “The consequences for the one responsible would be… severe.” Malfoy’s magic almost looked like he was at breaking point. Lucius sneered slightly in the greying light of the Blindsight Charm.

“Well,” he began. “Let us hope… that Miss Granger will always be around to save the day,” Lucius said, turning to her with an expression Ariadne didn’t know well but felt she understood and in a tone she knew all too well. Malice. Ariadne smiled.

“I’ll try my best. I’m three-nil up on Voldemort now.” she said sweetly, her arms behind her back as she smiled at him but letting her eyelids tense into a glare for the briefest of moments. Lucius straightened, his magic still shaken, and turned back away. “ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she cast.

“Dumbledore,” he said curtly, at which Dumbledore simply nodded. Lucius flung his cloak back dramatically. “Come, Dobby. We’re leaving.” Ariadne’s mind sprang into action as the Malfoy man began to make his way away, and she jumped as Lucius  _ kicked Dobby down the stairs _ . As he got back up and Lucius caught up with him, he whacked him on the back of the head with his cane.

That did it.

“Professor Dumbledore? Could I take that, for a moment?” she asked, pointing to the diary.

“By all means, Miss Granger. In fact, I was going to ask you to take it to Madam Pomfrey, she requires it to assist with the unfortunate condition of Miss Weasley, and as I recall it’ll be conveniently on your way,” Dumbledore replied, also standing. “I meanwhile need to send these release papers to Azkaban. We’ll be wanting our groundskeeper back.”  _ Azkaban _ ?! Hagrid was in  _ Azkaban?! _ Ariadne didn’t have time to be shocked by that, as Lucius was getting away. She hurriedly made her way to the staircase, letting it carry her down as she took off her right shoe, before taking her sock off and putting the shoe back on. Closing her cloak and hoping it hung low enough, she put the sock in the middle of the diary and closed it.

“Mister Malfoy!” she called as she got off the staircase, striding toward the man with purpose. “Mister Malfoy!” she repeated, when he didn’t react. The man slowly turned back toward her, and Dobby stopped too. “I b-bel-believe I have something of yours,” she said, voice dripping with ice as she pushed the book into Malfoy’s arm, forcing him to hold it or have it fall to the floor.

“Mine?” Malfoy spluttered as his magic jumped through the roof. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I think you do, sir,” Ariadne said. “You forget, Mister Malfoy, that I can see your magical core. I know what  _ fear  _ looks like. You saw that book and knew  _ exactly  _ what it was, before Professor Dumbledore told you. And you’re afraid right now.” She smiled. “I’m guessing that you slipped it into her possession before first term, at Diagon Alley - the Weasleys say you met them there after I left. Good timing for you, otherwise I would have seen it.”

“Is that so?” Lucius replied, shoving the book into Dobby’s hands. It was working. He leant forward, looming over her menacingly. Ariadne set her jaw defiantly. “Why don’t you prove it? Come, Dobby,” he sneered, turning and striding away. Ariadne smiled as soon as his back was turned, and she turned towards Dobby.

“Open it,” she told him, softly. “ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she said as Dobby spread the pages of the book, revealing her sock as his magic visibly brightened and his ears perked up, his eyes becoming disturbing as the coated surface wasn’t the only section of eyeball ‘visible,’ leaving strange voids.

“Dobby!” Malfoy called, as he’d gotten a ways away.

“Master has given Dobby a sock!” Dobby exclaimed, as Malfoy turned.

“What?” Malfoy snarled. “I didn’t give-” Lucius saw the sock and his magic jumped again.

“Master has presented Dobby with clothes!” Dobby cried, picking the sock out of the book and leaving a sock-shaped imprint on the magic coating the pages. “Dobby is free!” Ariadne pulled her cloak aside theatrically to slip her wand back into her pocket, revealing the missing sock.

“You lost me my  _ servant! _ ” Malfoy shouted, swiping his wand out, which Ariadne realized with a jolt had been sheathed as the head of his cane. He pointed his wand at Ariadne, and Ariadne jumped, reaching her hand back into her cloak for her own as Dobby moved to stand between them and Lucius advanced toward her.

“You shall not harm Ariadne Granger!” Dobby yelled, extending his arm as his refined magic built up.

“ _ AVADA- _ ” Lucius hissed, before a burst of white light shot into Ariadne’s magic sense, throwing Lucius Malfoy back to the end of the corridor. Dobby straightened, nodding triumphantly as Malfoy got back up, his hair a mess. “Your parents were meddlesome fools too!”

“My parents are dentists,” Ariadne interrupted, smiling.

“Mark my words, Granger! One day soon,  _ you _ are going to meet the same  _ sticky end _ ,” Malfoy declared, pointing at her dramatically, before he turned and strode out of the castle.

“Ariadne Granger freed Dobby,” Dobby said, turning to her as Ariadne exhaled, unwrapping her fingers from her wand. “How can Dobby ever repay her?” Ariadne leant down.

“I don’t want you to,” she said softly. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But you freed Dobby, ma’am!” Dobby protested. “Dobby owes you his life!”

“No. No no no, I don’t want that.” Ariadne thought for a moment. “I want you to live your own life. You’re a free elf now, I didn’t do that to get something out of you. So do that. Grow, become the best elf you can be.” She smiled. “Hey, um, I’m going to need that book back, but do you want the other sock? One sock’s a bit pointless,” she asked.

“Oh! Oh, certainly ma’am! It would be an honour!” Dobby exclaimed, hurriedly giving her the book back. Ariadne smiled and took off her other shoe, giving him the second sock. “Oh, thank you Miss Granger!” Dobby cried, literally crying. Ariadne raised her arms.

“Oh come here,” she said, inviting the elf into a hug. “Oh and Dobby. You can say whatever you like now. Whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Ariadne Granger,” Dobby whispered, his magic building before vanishing from Ariadne’s arms. She smiled and stood back up. Next stop: Gryffindor Tower to replace her socks, and then the Hospital Wing.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god this chapter got long xD  
> Looks like the next chapter or two will be the same story as the last five; one day, multiple chapters.


	71. Restorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Ron and Hermione are resuscitated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t expect to end up with the longest Trans Harry Potter fic on AO3, but since last chapter we’re now officially longer than Eon’s amazing Magical Metamorphosis at 160,300 words! This is a bit longer than The Two Towers and substantially longer than The Return of the King.  
> And we’re not even at the end of the second movie…  
> Imagine if Ariadne had forgotten her shoes in the Chamber - I’d meant to do that but I forgot.  
> TW: Withdrawal (as an analogy)

Ariadne rubbed her temples gratefully as she got back up the stairs of the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory, and quickly switched back to her cane. The main staircase chamber had been a nightmare, combining the cacophony of the paintings with the Blindsight Charm into what was quickly becoming a proper headache. She realized with some amusement that because she hadn’t fallen asleep, the  _ Lumos Astra _ she’d cast on the canopy of her bed the night before was still up.

“ _ Nox _ ,” she said, flicking her wrist at the field, causing it to vanish. She wondered if Hermione would cast the spell on her own bed; she’d been casting it over Hermione some nights. With that pondering, she shoved the diary into her mostly empty bag and headed downstairs back to the Common Room.

A few people ambushed her. The Weasleys who weren’t already in the Hospital Wing, intending to be there for Ron and to keep Ginny company. As well as them, Neville, Seamus and Dean would be there to visit Ron.

“There’s our monster-slayer!” George exclaimed as she came down the stairs. It seemed the girls had been talking.

“What we hear is  _ you’re _ why we’re all free again!” Fred added, half-jumping back off what was probably a sofa armrest. Ariadne grinned.

“Congratulations, Ariadne,” Percy said.

“Yeah! Was it really you?” Seamus called as she probed her way past a couch that definitely wasn’t where she was used to it being.

“Um. Yes,” Ariadne replied, hesitantly.

“Woah!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s amazing! How did you do it?”

“That’s uh, that’s a long story,” she replied, flustered as Fred slapped her shoulders like a drumset.

“You can tell it on the way then! Come on, let’s go get our bedridden housemates,” George said, rolling off the sofa that Fred had been sitting on the armrest of, which he had been lying on.

“O-okay,” Ariadne stammered, following Percy as he started toward the portrait door, and started from when she found the paper in Hermione’s hand. She didn’t know how much people knew about who had been taken, so she omitted that, citing the student’s privacy, and didn’t mention what Voldemort was trying to do. Seamus, Dean and Neville were enraptured by her story, laughing about Lockhart, and she started taking artistic license with exactly what had happened, and they gasped as she told them of her ‘duel’ with the Basilisk. Unlike Lockhart, she thought, her story at least was mostly true with embellishments instead of complete fiction or stolen work.

“She’s so cool,” Dean whispered to Seamus, and Ariadne blanched a little. She still wasn’t used to praise, let alone people saying she was cool.

“Not to worry, Ariadne, slayer of monsters and three-time killer of You Know Who - we’ve got bats, we’ll keep all the boys off you,” Fred laughed and Ariadne couldn’t help but giggle that of all the things in the world, the attention of boys was potentially more intimidating to her than that of a millennia old Basilisk. With that, the pack of children behind Percy finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was standing at the doorway.

“Ah, there you all are. Ariadne, could I speak with you a moment?” Pomfrey asked, pulling Ariadne aside.

“You go, I’ll let Hermione know you’re coming,” Percy said.

“Thanks Percy!” Madam Pomfrey took Ariadne behind a closed curtain within which nobody was interred.

“I hate to be so short, but I hope Professor Dumbledore had you bring the book?” Ariadne nodded and pulled it out of her robe, to the relief of the matron. “Thank god,” she sighed. “I was beginning to get worried. Ginny’s been able to say she’s all right with you being in the loop with her case, since you’re our only diagnostic tool right now. She had a rough night, had a Sleeping Draught. Even with that, I caught her sleepwalking. She almost made it to Professor Dumbledore’s office, I had to contain her to within the next curtain here. She’s having trouble keeping food down, but I managed to get some water down her,” Pomfrey explained as Ariadne’s face fell.

“Will she be okay?” Ariadne asked, worried.

“To be entirely honest with you, I don’t know. This is something far more than anything I’ve ever had to treat, I’m afraid. I’ve sent an owl to Saint Mungos, but it’ll take a few days for them to send anyone,” Pomfrey replied. “The closest possible analogy I can give you is  _ severe  _ withdrawal symptoms, but unless I can keep this and try to wean her off it, it’s going to be cold turkey, I’m afraid. And so far, that looks like the worst case scenario,” she continued. “All right, come in here,” Pomfrey said, pulling back the side of the curtain adjacent to the next to reveal what looked like a wall to Ariadne - before waving her wand slightly and causing a porthole to appear in it and leading her in.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne whispered as she followed Madam Pomfrey. Revealed in the magical bubble just inside the curtains, was Ginny, sitting hunched over in her bed, crying and rocking with her hands clutched in her hair. Ginny retched just as they entered, but presumably nothing came up. Her magical core was spiking angrily and erratically like Ariadne had never seen before. Madam Pomfrey stepped over, reaching out her hand and rubbing her back.

“Ginny?” Ginny jerkily released her hair and looked up at the matron, her eyes vanishing and reappearing wildly as Ariadne realized that was her struggling to keep her eyes open as she shook and her jaw was clenched. Even to Ariadne and her limited ability to tell expression, Ginny looked sick, horribly sick. “We’ve brought you the book, okay?” Ginny jumped, and clawed the book out of Madam Pomfrey’s arms, and clutched it close to her chest. She winced, breathing heavily and still crying, as her magic started to quickly return to normal. Pomfrey turned her head toward Ariadne, a questioning expression on her face. Ariadne nodded. “Feeling better, Ginny?”

“Mhmm,” Ginny hummed, nodding slightly. “Th-th-thhththhhank... you,” she muttered. Ginny shuffled nearer to Ariadne, keeping the book in her lap as she held out her arms for a hug. Ariadne hopped up onto the bed beside her and let Ginny wrap her arms around her tightly. The younger girl held on for dear life, sobbing into Ariadne’s shoulder, her face screwed up as her shuddering lessened and she stopped breathing so heavily as her magic returned to its usual state.

“Oh that’s much better,” Pomfrey said gently, as the pair detached. “All right Miss Weasley; I’m willing to have you take your leave, but I expect you back here tonight, all right?” Ginny nodded. “And Miss Granger? Please go with her where you can, you’re the only one who knows when she’s having trouble so I need you to take care of her. I expect full medical confidentiality from you, you are not to tell anyone what is wrong unless Miss Weasley here indicates you are allowed to.” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey,” she replied as Ginny wormed her hand into Ariadne’s and slipped the diary into her robes.

“Good. Now, for far more positive eventualities - I’ll just go and fetch the Mandrake Draught, you go say hello to your siblings,” Madam Pomfrey said, smiling and flicking her wand to vanish the ‘walls’ around them, leaving Ariadne in a hovering void that consisted of the bed, the floor, Ginny and Pomfrey. With a rustle, she pulled the curtain open and bustled off toward her office. Ariadne awkwardly probed her way back toward the group, who sat around Ron and Hermione, with her left hand, since Ginny had ensnared her right. She let go soon enough though, as the mobile Weasleys engulfed her in hugs and Fred gave her a big bag of sweets. A few of the other first-years had also come up, presumably for Collin. 

“All right, we’ll do this in order; Mister Creevey’s been petrified the longest, so he’ll take the longest to get moving again. Then Mister Weasley and finally Miss Granger,” Pomfrey announced, her magical core striding in. “Now, you three, when you regain the ability to exhale: don’t. Hold your breath for as long as you can, to give yourself time to be able to breath back  _ in _ again.” She stepped over to Creevey, and leant over him for a moment. “All right, give him five minutes or so, he should start twitching after then and he’ll be motile again in ten.” Pomfrey stepped over to Ron, the Twins parting to let her past, and leant over him. “He should take a little less time, perhaps three minutes to regain partial movement and six for full motility,” she told the Weasley troupe, who shuffled around excitedly as she swung around the bed to Hermione. “Now, Miss Granger, I know you have sensory issues, this is going to feel unpleasant because you can’t swallow right now, but you’re going to have to deal with it. All right. Hermione’s only been petrified just over a month, so she’ll only take a minute or two to get up again,” Pomfrey ruffled Ariadne’s hair as past Ron, Ariadne sensed the cage around Collin’s magic begin to shudder. Ron’s too, and Hermione’s even more immediately.

It was the most excruciatingly long minute or two of Ariadne’s life, as she watched the cage around her sister shudder and fade. Finally, Ginny clutched her arm.

“She’s moving!” Ginny exclaimed. Ariadne gasped and pulled out her wand.

“ _ Aurum Radia! _ ” she cried, catching Hermione’s hand moving. Then her nostrils flared as she finally breathed in. Hermione blinked, and grunted as she struggled to sit up. “Hermione!” For the first time since the morning of her petrification, Ariadne saw her sister’s face.

“Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed. “I can- I can move! Can’t move my legs yet,” she added, reaching out to Ariadne, a hug Ariadne eagerly accepted. “You figured it out! What did McGonagall say about it being a Basilisk?” Ariadne frowned, before she realized.

“Oh! Madam Pomfrey didn’t tell you, did she?” Ariadne asked.

“I may have failed to inform Hermione of the events of last night, I was a tad busy tending to Miss Weasley,” Pomfrey admitted.

“Okay, I’ll wait until Ron’s up, you’re gonna love it,” Ariadne said quickly, noting that Hermione was waving her right hand around erratically. Beneath the blanket, her foot twitched.

“Aha!” Hermione exclaimed, swinging off the bed. “Woah!” she cried, unsteady on her still a bit stiff legs as she jumped off. “Thank you Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione bobbed over to the matron, jumping into a hug.

“Oh, you’re very welcome Miss Granger. Oh!” Madam Pomfrey looked toward Ron. “I believe Mister Weasley just moved.” Ariadne shot over, her cane haphazardly swinging about as she ran to the bed. She hadn’t really ‘seen’ Ron’s face before, not since their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with Lockhart, which had barely given her the opportunity. His face was somewhat round, with a wide-ish chin, and hair that was parted in the middle to either side, almost like an inverted version of how Lockhart’s had been - Lockhart’s had ascended after its parting, but Ron’s swept down his forehead creating a triangular shape of ‘visible’ forehead. He blinked, and flexed his jaw.

“Ugh!” he jumped forward and spat onto the ground. “I’ve had toothpaste in my mouth for  _ months _ !” he complained, as the Twins roared in laughter. “Bleh.” Ginny jumped forward and wrapped her brother in a tight hug, sniffing. “Woah! Gerroff, I’m still cooking!”

“Well, at least your teeth won’t have deteriorated,” Hermione replied, smugly. Ariadne giggled and pulled the boy into a hug once Ginny released him - his arms still didn’t quite want to move, so he had to very slowly return the favour as his magic fluttered a tiny bit.

“How did, er, how did the signing go? I heard you were doing one but I was, well, petrified that day,” Ron asked, as she pulled away. Ariadne laughed.

“It was, it was okay? That was a while ago, I’ll fill you two in,” Ariadne replied.

“Oh! Thanks for keeping us up to date on classes!” Hermione added, jumping. “That’ll be so helpful when exams come around.”

“Exams?!” Ron cried. “Oh just petrify me again!” he groaned, slamming back down onto the bed as the troupe laughed again.

“We-we-w-w-w-w-well did you at least pay atten-ten-tention?” Ariadne asked.

“Yes!” Ron said, still lying down. “Didn’t give me much choice did you? Bloody hell you take a lot of notes!” Ariadne’s smile faded, and she folded in on herself a little. Ron must have noticed, because he sat back up again. “Hey, I’m messing with you, it’s good. I’d rather be read notes in bed than study everything myself any day,” he said, concerned. “Seriously, thanks.” Ariadne perked up again. Ron stretched and swung out of bed, and Ariadne recast the Blindsight Charm to fill in the bottom end of him.

“Well I’ve got a much better story to tell you now,” Ariadne said. “The story of Ariadne Granger and the Chamber of Secrets.”

“What  _ happened _ last night?” Hermione asked, while Ron went about saying hi to his own doormmates.

“I’ll tell you soon. Do-do-do-d-do you guys w-want to have a pic-pic-picpicnic?” Ariadne asked, hesitantly. “Eve-evev-every-everyone was doing that earlier, it’s probably almost lunchtime. We could go to the Hall, grab some food and then go eat outside? You guys haven’t seen the sky in ages.”

“What do you mean we haven’t seen the sky? You’ve been making sure we did,” Hermione said. Ariadne tilted her head, confused. “That spell you made.”

“Th-that’s not the sky, it’s just points of light,” Ariadne said.

“Well, I prefer it,” Hermione replied, smiling. “Let’s go get food, I’m hungry and I want Ariadne to tell us what happened,” she added, bouncing on the spot and shaking her right hand about.

“Yeah, I’m starving too,” Ron called, from behind Dean. “You guys wanna come too?”

“Sure, why not?” Seamus replied.

“I’ve got some things to do, but you guys go ahead,” Percy said to the twins, giving Ron a final hug and taking his leave.

“All right. Springtime tea party in the grounds, shall we?” George announced, putting on a posh accent.

“I’m sure we’ve got to have a picnic blanket somewhere in Gryffindor Tower,” Fred added. With that, the pack of second years, Twins and Ginny soon found themselves sprawling out on the sloping lawns of the Hogwarts, basking in the springtime sun.

“Come on then, Ariadne, you’ve been torturing them with suspense,” George said, through a mouthful of a chocolate slice.

“Yeah, tell them!” Dean added.

“All right then,” Ariadne said, sitting up. Hermione leapt to attention, her left arm bobbing up and down excitedly. “So. After I left the Hospital Wing to tell Professor McGonagall about what Hermione had found, that the monster was a Basilisk, McGonagall made an announcement; All students to their common rooms, and all teachers to the second floor corridor,” Ariadne recited. “I knew it had to be related, so I went to them instead, but I got there late. The Basilisk had taken another student, but this time into the Chamber itself.” Ariadne tilted her head just enough to Ginny that she hoped she’d notice but not so much as to actually point at her - she was actually asking permission. Ginny nodded behind her. “Ginny. But they all went away, and I didn’t know where because they were talking about closing the school-”

“Yeah, McGonagall came to Gryffindor Tower before Moaning Myrtle popped through the wall saying she had to come,” Seamus interrupted.

“Mm, I’ll get to that. Lockhart had been saying that he knew where the Chamber was, so McGonagall told him to deal with it. So I followed him to his-his office, but he was  _ packing _ !” Ariadne said, and Hermione gasped.

“He was  _ what _ ?!” Hermione exclaimed.

“You know how the Homorphus Charm can’t cure lycanthropy?” Ariadne asked. Hermione nodded, Ron shook his head.

“Yeah, a bunch of things in his books were exaggerated. Wait...”

“He didn’t do  _ any _ of it. He-he just Memory Charmed the people who did! He used the Memory Charm so much that-” Ariadne explained as Hermione bounced.

“Oh my god, deleterious effects, page ninety three!” Hermione exclaimed.

“What are you talking about?” Ron asked. “I swear, you two share a brain.” Hermione spun to face him.

“ _ Sustained consecutive casting of the Memory Charm over a period of years has a cumulative deleterious effect, causing the user to lose memories and skills of their own _ ,” Hermione recited.

“Exactly!” Ariadne said. “So when he turned around to try it on  _ me _ because I knew, I disarmed him! I’ve still got his wand!” She pulled the wand out of her bag briefly, to show them. “He also didn’t actually know where the entrance to the Chamber was, but I had a hunch; the second floor girls’ bathroom had a magic snake on one of the taps, and Hermione said it had been going through the pipes! When we got there, I used Parseltongue - apparently I’m a Parselmouth, didn’t know that, but I am - to open it but Lockhart ran. So I went in alone,” Ariadne told them as they sat enraptured. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . It was really smelly and stuff, but I went in and I foundfoundfound thethe… the Basilisk’s shedded skin! It was huge and all magic, so I knew that Basilisk hide would reflect magic!”

“Woah…” Ron marveled.

“And then I went into the actual Chamber bit and Ginny was there, and Voldemort was trying to feed off her, to come back to life. We talked a bunch and then I told him Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time just to wind him up but apparently that counted as loyalty? So Fawkes, Dumbledore’s pet phoenix turned up! But Voldemort called the Basilisk, so I tried telling it to stop with Parseltongue!” Ariadne ranted, words slurring together as she spoke altogether too quickly.

“Did it work?” Ron asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah! For a bit, until Voldemort told it I was lying. It nearly killed me then but Fawkes blinded it! Snakes don’t have ears, so I lured it away with some rocks because they can feel vibrations in the ground!” Ariadne explained. “But then the teachers tried to get in to save  _ me _ while I was trying to stop Voldemort from killing Ginny, so the Basilisk came back to the main chamber and  _ then _ ! The Sword of Gryffindor appeared! I tried cutting its side but that didn’t work. It came up and tried to eat me but the inside of its mouth wasn’t protected! So I stabbed it in the brain with the Sword,  _ and _ blew it up at the same time!” Ariadne took a breath as she ran out. 

“Boom!” Seamus exclaimed.

“And then I took the fang of the Basilisk and broke what Voldemort was doing! He died and Ginny was fine!” Ginny beamed.

“She was  _ covered _ in b... blood, I thought she was dying,” the younger girl told them, her magic fluttering for a moment as Ariadne presumed she’d tried to say “Basilisk blood.”

“Well, I  _ was _ , I’d been poisoned by the Basilisk butbutbut phoenix tears have healing powers and Fawkes healed me before we left,” Ariadne said. “Professor McGonagall was-was-was  _ so _ angry!”

“Oh my god…” Hermione breathed. “You could have  _ died! _ ”

“I didn’t though!” Ariadne replied, smiling at her sister and taking a bite of a tomato and bacon sandwich. Once the subject switched to more mundane things, Ariadne was content. For the first time in months, life was good. Life was normal again, with one exception: she was, for the third time over, a hero.

But aside from that; she had her friend back. She had her sister back. And for once, she was just Ariadne Granger, who happened to be a monster-slayer.

She almost didn’t know if she’d have room for the feast that night, as she skipped back to the castle with Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah these chapters really are taking on longer lengths lmao, I don’t know if it’s going to stay that way but we’ll see.  
> Well wasn’t that just lovely?


	72. You Hold the Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne realizes something at the feast, and decides to take some initiative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a hot sec, life got busy for a moment there.

“Come on, we’re going to be late!” Hermione stressed, spinning on the spot and waving her right hand about. “There’s only twenty minutes!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ariadne said, putting her brush down. “Hey, it’s okay. I know you’re nervous about time and being late for things, I haven’t forgotten. I’ll finish up here really quick, it’s okay.”

“I know but… it’ll take us that long to get there!” Hermione whined, bobbing. Ariadne stopped what she was doing.

“It’s okay, you’re basing your estimates on my cane, not the spell, remember?” she said softly. “We’ve got plenty of time, and by my estimates it should only take five or ten minutes, tops. Is that good?" Hermione stopped bouncing anxiously.

“Oh. Right, of course,” Hermione mumbled. “Sorry.”

“No no, it’s okay,” Ariadne said, quickly running the brush through her hair again. “Are you okay?” she asked, pointing her head at Hermione’s illuminated right hand - Hermione was still rubbing her fingers together and shaking her hand. “Sad hands.” Hermione shook her head.

“Not sad,” she said. “Need to be moving.”

“Oh. I get it,” Ariadne nodded solemnly. “Mu-must be hard, after being stuck like that. Okay, I’m done, we can go now,” Ariadne said, her hair finally tamed, as she fastened up her cloak. They met up with Ron in the Common Room.

“Blimey, you take a long time to get ready now!” He called, turning to them as they stepped down into the chamber. “Woah! Who are you and what have you done with Ariadne Granger?!” he exclaimed to the mirth of the girls.

“Th-th-thhhh-this is what I did for the interview, remember?” Ariadne stammered.

“Oh! Oh yeah, you did didn’t you?” Ron said. “All right, let’s go get dinner.” Ron stood up, and began toward the portrait door.

“Just a sec, I think Ginny’s still in the bathroom,” Ariadne said.

“Ginny?” Ron said. “Did you replace me while I was out?!” he exclaimed, jokingly.

“Er-” Ariadne shuffled. “Madam Pomfrey asked me to keep her company. Can’t tell you why.” Ron seemed to frown.

“All… right?” Ron said, slightly confused. “Settling back in okay, Hermione?” he asked.

“Mhmm!” Hermione hummed. “Good to be up again. You?”

“All good, yeah. Might need a different toothpaste though,” he laughed as Ginny came down the dorm staircase. “Oh hey Ginny. Hey um, are you okay? Ariadne said Madam Pomfrey asked her to keep an eye on you, said she can’t tell us why.” Ariadne winced as Ginny’s magic started into its shuddering. She stepped over and leant to where she supposed Ginny’s ear might be.

“D-d-d-...do you want me to tell him?” she asked quietly. Ginny nodded as her magic returned to normal.

“Mum and Dad probably will anyway,” she whispered. Ariadne ushered the pair over to a sofa and sat down, waiting for them to sit down. Ginny sat beside her.

“Okay, Ginny’s given me permission to tell you. You are not to tell anyone else, is that clear?” Ariadne said gently, after recasting the Blindsight charm. Both nodded.

“Yes,” both replied.

“Okay. Do you remember the diary we recovered, the one belonging to Voldemort? I think I told you about that, Ron?” Ariadne continued. Ron nodded. “Ginny was the one it was controlling. But Voldemort knew I’d see if he possessed her. So instead, he made it so Ginny couldn’t talk about it, physically. But he also made sure Ginny would experience… withdrawal symptoms if she tried to get rid of the diary and didn’t get it back,” Ariadne explained quietly. “But after she almost managed to send it where she  _ couldn’t  _ get it back, he made it more powerful. Dumbledore had it last night, and she uh,” Ariadne sighed and turned to face Ginny briefly - only for emphasis, it didn’t change her perspective at all. “She didn’t have a good time,” she said, patting Ginny on the back. “She’s got it for now, and we’re waiting for St. Mungos to send someone. I’m the only one who can tell, her magic goes kinda buzzy, I thought she was just anxious but it was this.”

“Oh Merlin…” Ron murmured. “Hey, c’mere,” he said, leaning forward and pulling Ginny into a hug. After a moment, Ginny pulled out of it.

“I’m hungry, let’s go,” she said grimly.

“I think we really might be late, sorry Hermione,” Ariadne said, mentally figuring out how long that had taken.

“It’s… it’s all right,” Hermione mumbled.

“No it isn’t, I know how much you hate being late,” Ariadne replied. “Come on, let’s-let’s see if I can run with this charm.”

It turned out, she could, although stopping every dozen seconds to recast it and capture what was ahead was a bit annoying, so they slowed down to a hasty walk. Luckily, they weren’t properly late - late enough that there weren’t many seats, but not so late that Dumbledore wanted to speak. As the three arrived, all the magical cores of the Gryffindor table began turning to face them after a certain Fred and George cheered. One by one, the newly revealed students began clapping and cheering all along the Gryffindor table - it wasn’t quite as shared by the other Houses, but Gryffindor gave Ron and Hermione a veritable standing ovation as they took their seats, which quickly lulled as Dumbledore stood and Professor McGonagall called for attention.

“Before we begin the feast - let us have a round of applause, for Professor Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice has been so successfully administered to those who had been petrified,” Dumbledore called, kicking off an encore of the applause received by the pair, but this time shared by nearly the entire Hall. Ariadne swore she was clapping the hardest. “Second! Allow me to gladly announce-” he added, pointing a hand at the now closed doors to the Hall and issuing a burst of green light that pushed them open. “-The return of our Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid!” True enough, behind the doors and striding in proudly, was the gigantic magical core of Rubeus Hagrid.

Ariadne wondered if anyone else knew where he’d been as she almost stood, clapping. What had been a singular, lone applause became multiple, as Ginny, Ron and Hermione joined in. As Percy, and the rest of the Quidditch team joined in. Before long, the whole table, and indeed the whole Hall once again, was clapping as Hagrid stopped before Ariadne, and she stood, casting the Blindsight charm to finally ‘see’ him for the first time.

The beard was the first thing she sensed. It merged with his hair, all tangled and wild and hanging down quite a ways, creating only a small window of his face she could sense. His cheekbones, eyes, mouth and forehead were the only skin visible on the man aside from his gigantic hands. The man was like a tree trunk, built like she couldn’t believe, and wore a thick coat.

“I’d just like to say that, er, if it hadn’t been for you, Ariadne, and Hermione, and Ron o’course, I would uh… I would still be you-know-where, so I’d just like to say… thanks,” the man said down to her.

“Just didn’t feel the same without you,” Ariadne replied, smiling, a tear in her eye as she embraced the gigantic man’s midsection. The applause started up again briefly, as he patted her head, before the two parted and Hagrid went up to take his seat.

“And finally,!” Dumbledore called. “I regret to inform you all of the disappearance of Professor Lockhart, who went missing last night. I assure you, as I am aware rumours have spread regarding last night’s events, his disappearance is not due to any encounter with the monster of the Chamber of Secrets alongside Miss Ariadne Granger-” at that, the Hall fell abuzz with whispers at that, and he’d almost said her name with pride in his voice. “Silence, please. However, his disappearance is related to a personal matter currently under investigation. As his departure has rather unpleasant timing given the imminence of the exam period, the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons will be filled by other Professors such as Professor Snape temporarily, until a replacement can be found next term,” Dumbledore announced calmly. “But without further ado, I’m sure the most of you would much rather tuck in than listen to the blatherings of an old man. So… tuck in!” He added, as the table magic inverted Ariadne’s consciousness and food appeared before them.

Ariadne’s mind, however, had been struck by lightning as she gasped.

“Seamus!” she exclaimed as voices began ringing through the Hall and people started eating.

“Hmm?” Seamus hummed, pausing with what was probably a fork in his hand.

“Did the Prophet say  _ anything _ about Lockhart this morning?” she asked hurriedly. Seamus shook his head.

“No ma’am, nothing. Why’d you ask?” Seamus replied, as a sinister grin filled Ariadne’s face.

“Oh, hohoho…” Ariadne breathed. “He hasn’t gone to the Prophet to cover himself yet. I need parchment,  _ now _ ,” Ariadne said, discarding her dinner as she fell to a new purpose and took out her pen and ink.

It wasn’t her fault if Lockhart was letting someone else mould the clay.

\--

> _ To Rita Skeeter, _
> 
> _ I hope this letter finds you well - and before Professor Lockhart’s does. You see, I have some information for you I’m sure you’ll find interesting, and I doubt Professor Lockhart would tell you the truth. _
> 
> _ The information relates to Professor Lockhart’s disappearance from Hogwarts, and I have physical proof of my story. If I could speak with you on Wednesday morning, that would work best for me, as I have a free period I would otherwise spend studying, but would rather spend on this. _
> 
> _ I’m aware we didn’t necessarily part on the most pleasant interaction, but I hope we can move past it. I was stressed, and I hope you don’t hold my panic against me. I’m aware of the inconsistencies you mentioned in your last article, and you are correct in your guess that I was adopted far later than I previously implied - I must apologize but insist we do not discuss this. I will address that matter in a public way when I am ready, as sharing the details could put me in danger and I only ask that you respect that privacy. _
> 
> _ Sincerely, _
> 
> _ Ariadne Granger. _

\--

> _ To Ariadne Granger _
> 
> _ I would love to speak with you - Gilderoy hasn’t owled me yet, but rumours of his disappearance have already reached my curious little ears. I also hear you had a part in the end of the reign of terror that has afflicted Hogwarts. I’m intrigued. Consider it done, I’ll see you on Wednesday. _
> 
> _ And don’t worry about that little matter with my last article - I was a little tetchy at the time as well, so I’d love to put that in the past. I’ll refrain from spilling anything that could hurt you, you take your time. You’re just a kid, I’m not going to tear into you for wanting to keep yourself safe. _
> 
> _ Basilisks and disappearing Professors, I’ll have plenty to write about. _
> 
> _ With bated breath, _
> 
> _ Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. _

Ironically, the letter arrived on Wednesday morning at breakfast - the weather hadn’t been favourable on Tuesday, so owls hadn’t been as quick. Instead of finishing her breakfast, she’d hurried to her dorm to tidy herself up for any potential photos - and to retrieve a certain wand. It wasn’t long before she’d hurriedly made her way to their usual spot, and knocked on the door with a smile on her face and pushed it open.

“Ariadne! Oh come in, come  _ in _ !” Rita cried, standing. “There’s the lovely lady I met in November!” she added as Ariadne cast her charm. “Your letter sounded  _ inflammatory _ , could be front page news, so let’s get some good photos of you!”

“Okay, yeah,” Ariadne said, anxious but excited. She’d never done this on her own before, and she didn’t know if she was scared or enjoying herself. After a few dozen photos, Rita sat her down again.

“So. Let’s dive right into the meat of your letter; you said you have information about the disappearance of Professor Lockhart, and that you have physical evidence?” Rita asked, leaning in with what looked like an eager smile on her face.

“Yes. So let me sit you down and tell you all about the  _ real _ Gilderoy Lockhart,” Ariadne said, remembering Rita’s first article, which Rita chuckled at. “Even myself and Hermione knew fairly quickly his books couldn’t have been accurate; for one, the Homorphus Charm cannot cure lycanthropy as he claimed in  _ Wanderings with Werewolves _ , and he failed to accurately describe the basic geography of the muggle town in which  _ The Gallant Gin-Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart _ takes place; there isn’t even a river there. Those are only two of numerous inaccuracie-inaccuracies and impossibilities,” she recited, having written a script for herself the night before. “The reason is this: Gilderoy Lockhart is a fraud. His books are rampantly exaggerated accounts he stole from other witches and wizards, before casting Memory Charms on them. As anyone who has studied them will know, so much use of that charm eventually bleeds onto the caster. He tried to cast it upon me, and had that not been the case, he might have had enough skill to deflect my disarming charm,” Ariadne said, pulling from her bag the nine inch, dragon heartstring cored, cherry wood wand of Gilderoy Lockhart, as Rita gasped.

\--

Ariadne sat beside Ginny at the breakfast table the next day, with a wolf-like grin on her face. Rita had said the article would be printed the next day, and she awaited the delivery, quietly dismissing anyone who asked what she was so happy about. 

She jumped as distant hoots filled the air, and hungrily grabbed the roll of parchment she heard fall onto the table in front of her.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink,” she whispered, unfolding it and holding it up. The breathy laugh she emitted could have been described as evil, as she took in the title.

> _ FORAYS INTO FRAUD BY GILDEROY LOCKHART - THE TRUTH REVEALED, by Rita Skeeter. _

Gasps filled the hall as the title was read by others. Even McGonagall had gasped, and was sitting forward in her seat in shock, pulling out her reading glasses.

> _ None of our readers will have missed the meteoric career of once-Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, bestselling author of such works as  _ Magical Me, Gadding with Ghouls, Wanderings with Werewolves, The Gallant Grindylow Grievances of Gilderoy Lockhart,  _ and _ Voyages with Vampires _ , honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League and third class member of the Order of Merlin. However, perhaps that honorary membership is unwarranted. _

“Oh my god…” Ginny exhaled, leaning beside her to read it over her shoulder.

> _ For this past Saturday, came what may have been his greatest mistake; underestimating Ariadne Granger. All in our world know the story of Miss Granger, and on that fateful evening, she faced You Know Who once more in the form of an artifact responsible for the petrifications at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the Basilisk he had used - as nobody had seen the eyes of the creature directly, its death stare was only partially effective, petrifying three Gryffindor students including Granger’s best friend Ronald Weasley and her sister Hermione. In the Chamber of Secrets, she battled the Basilisk and saved the student it had kidnapped - who shall remain anonymous for their privacy. _
> 
> _ But why did she, even admitting herself to her own unsuitability to the battle outside of her immunity to the death stare through her blindness, a twelve year old girl, have to go in alone? _
> 
> _ Dear readers, this is where we return to our intrepid author, Gilderoy Lockhart. Ariadne had figured out that very night that the monster in the Chamber was a Basilisk, through discovering research her sister had performed shortly before her petrification - learning that Lockhart knew of the location of the entrance (but had for some reason inexplicably told no-one, which Ariadne says should have been her first clue to the true nature of the man) and that he had been assigned the task of rescuing the kidnapped student, she rushed to his office to inform him. _
> 
> _ And upon casting the Blind-sight Charm she, Hermione and Professor Flitwick had developed earlier this year, she found him packing. His suitcases full of his possessions, and his office packed away. _
> 
> _ Gilderoy Lockhart, the man who claimed to have defeated so many Dark creatures, was running. Upon interrogating the once-Professor, Granger was told one very damning fact; that Lockhart was not responsible for the heroic stories he tells, and that he had in fact stolen the stories of numerous witches and wizards before casting the Memory Charm upon them. “Otherwise,” the man is alleged to have said, “all those wizards would have gone blabbing.” _

By then, the Hall was full of the cackling and conspiratorial cacophony of the students who’d read it a bit faster, yelling to one another across the room.

> _ Upon realizing he was about to attempt the same to her, she immediately disarmed him, something Miss Granger says would not have worked if not for the deleterious effects of sustained Memory Charm usage. The man has also been, as she alleges, an “utterly useless,” Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and has exclusively used his own false stories as study material. She stresses one thing, however; in this respect, Lockhart requires treatment. It may be an ailment he has brought on himself, but this should not preclude his being given medical care. _
> 
> _ I was initially skeptical of this as she told me this story. That was, until she produced Gilderoy Lockhart’s wand. I have confirmed its details with one Ollivander of Diagon Alley, and it is in fact his wand. _
> 
> _ She hadn’t intended to keep it, however. Upon her leading the man to where she  _ correctly  _ believed the Chamber was, Lockhart fled as soon as it was open. Ariadne attempted to stop him, but was unsuccessful, and he ran without his wand. His present location is unknown. _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Ariadne drops a titanic-sized penny!


	73. Readjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Basilisk dead, and her peers resuscitated, life goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lil’ while longer than expected.

McGonagall had been… performatively furious, even though Ariadne could tell she was suppressing laughter, and so too was just about everyone around, as she came to the breakfast table and berated Ariadne for going to the press about Professor Lockhart without consulting the staff, and had given her a month’s worth of detention for it - although, it wasn’t exactly a terrible thing, it was really only a study period under McGonagall’s supervision, and it was well-compensated for by the delicious fallout of Rita’s article. It’d been followed by at least a dozen more articles in a few wizarding newspapers, as well as discussions on the Wizarding Wireless Network.

Lockhart hadn’t even re-emerged, but his book sales had  _ plummeted _ . The publishing house responsible for  _ Magical Me _ , Whizz Hard Books, had announced it would be ceasing its print run until a full investigation had been made into the allegations against Gilderoy Lockhart. She was fully expecting follow-ups from Rita and potentially others as part of that, but she suspected it would take time - at the very least after the exam period would be nice.

She was most pleased by the effect on the man’s reputation - it was satisfying to hear so many of her peers talking about how useless a teacher he’d been, and at least Snape and Flitwick were picking up his considerable slack.

Ariadne, meanwhile, had been making sure Ron and Hermione were up to date. Hermione didn’t take much help, although Ariadne’s notes had occasionally missed snippets, but Ron was having trouble. The boy wasn’t much of an academic, and his memory for what she’d told him was sporadic, without even mentioning the lessons missed before Ariadne had known he was conscious.

She was also helping Ginny - with how much pressure had been on the girl, she hadn’t been doing well in classes, so the sisters were making sure she had everything down. They’d started with her Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, which was one of the areas that had suffered most from her stress, and their help had potentially even brought her to the point of being able to pass a second-year exam with a low mark - something she had lorded over Ron, who at his current rate wouldn’t pass his own second-year exam. They were working on that.

After a few days, come Friday, Ginny had an appointment with a doctor sent from Saint Mungo’s - Melody Tenet. Within Madam Pomfrey’s office, Ariadne sat beside Ginny, across from Doctor Tenet.

“Hello Miss Weasley, Miss Granger, I’m Doctor Melody Tenet - I’m from Saint Mungo’s Hospital,” Doctor Tenet said, sitting down. “Madam Pomfrey has given me her notes on this case. So, as I understand it, the condition you are experiencing is the result of a powerful Dark artifact, and mainly prevents you from communicating on a wide variety of topics relating to the petrifications this year; it also ensures that you experience worsening symptoms of nausea, bodily pain, delirium, etcetera, the longer you are separated from the artifact. Is that all correct?” Ginny’s magic spasmed as she leant forward, and she exhaled, sitting back, her magical core turning toward Ariadne desperately.

“Y-yes,” Ariadne replied for her. “She-shhh-she can’t answer that either. Um,  _ Aurum Radia _ .”

“Of course, that will make my job quite difficult. Now, Madam Pomfrey says that you can tell when this is happening, Miss Granger, yes?” Ariadne nodded, trying to figure out how to word it as Tenet took more notes.

“I can see - well, see isn’t the right word - her magical core; when she’s being blocked or when she’s in the withdrawal effect, it looks… more jagged, more chaotic, like it’s attacking itself?” Ariadne explained. The doctor nodded.

“As such, you’re one of our only insights into what’s happening. I can attempt to read her magical core, but if it’s just behaviour in her own magic, it most likely won’t work. Unfortunately, all you can really give me is a yes or no, whether she’s in distress or not, but we’ll have to work with it,” Tenet replied, pulling out her wand. “Now, Ginny. I know this will be quite difficult for you, but I am going to initiate a sort of scan of your magical core. Once I have, I need you to try to talk about the book you’ve got in your bag, okay?” Ginny nodded apprehensively, taking a deep breath. “ _ Perlego _ .” Tenet cast a beam of gleaming blue and green light that connected with Ginny’s magical core. Ariadne rubbed her hand on Ginny’s back as the yellow, blue and red girl began shuddering and spiking. Some of the spikes translated along the sensor charm Doctor Tenet had cast, and she hummed thoughtfully.

“T-tttt-t-t-t…” Ginny strained, her magic going veritably wild, collapsing back onto the chair as Tenet sighed quietly.

“Wha-wh-w-w-w-w-what-what did you find?” Ariadne asked anxiously as Ginny held onto her arm and the doctor furiously wrote down her findings.

“Obviously this was a preliminary test, and one cannot make any certain calls, but it appears to be…  _ very _ ingrained into her own magic, and registers more akin to spontaneous magic in a young child,” she replied, putting her notebook down. “More testing will need to be performed before I can say anything more.” Tenet wasn’t saying anything about the future, but Ariadne could tell from her tone how worried she was. This wasn’t going to be an easy recovery.

\--

They refrained from any experimentation with weaning Ginny off the book until at the absolute least after the exam period - she needed to be able to concentrate, and the withdrawal effect would have made that impossible after a relatively short time. Until then, Tenet returned to St. Mungo’s to confer with her colleagues and conduct research. Meanwhile, Ariadne kept helping Ron with his studying.

Much to Ron’s relief and Hermione’s chagrin, his, Hermione’s and Collin’s exams had been postponed, in respect of their absences. Ariadne was glad to take some pressure off Ron, as he had been having serious difficulties. That did however mean that Ariadne had her own exams much earlier than them.

“What do you mean you can’t?!” Ron exclaimed, sitting up suddenly in his chair in the Common Room after asking about a Transfiguration problem. It was getting late, and from the sound of it, the fire was starting to burn low. Fire was interesting - it wasn’t physical enough to properly retain magic, but she’d get a brief flash of it before it immediately dissipated from her little sixth sense.

“I’ve taken my Transfiguration exam! I can’t help you if I know what’s in the exam, it’s not fair,” Ariadne explained sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“But I don’t remember anything about this one! Please?” Ron protested.

“Fortunately, Ronald, I do, and I haven’t had my exams yet. What’s the problem?” Hermione said, noticing that Ariadne looked a little stressed from the situation and metaphorically stepping between the two. Ariadne nodded, and started on her way to the dormitory.

“So how come you’re allowed to help me?” Ginny asked, suppressing a laugh. Ariadne span, stammering vowel sounds.

“I-” Ariadne spluttered as Ron laughed. “I-I’m not in your year! I don’t know what’s in your exam!” she tried, feeling her face going red.

“‘Adne, I’m teasing,” Ginny stood following as Ariadne started up the stairs carefully. “Hey, um, you remember um, back at the Burrow?” Ariadne stopped, swallowing as Ginny caught up on the step.

“Yes,” she replied, quietly, the memory playing back all too clearly in her mind.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Ginny asked. Ariadne frowned, tilting her head at the girl. What was she talking about? “Oh Merlin I’m not talking about- no, it’s not about  _ that _ . When I was… when I was going on about H. Potter.” Ariadne pulled back, her mouth open slightly.

“I just… nobody knew,” Ariadne said. “I didn’t know if I could tell you.” Ginny exhaled, then started giggling, before descending into all out laughter. “What?”

“But you could tell me about  _ you _ ,” Ginny whispered. Ariadne flinched. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go telling everyone. But I was  _ so awkward _ !” she exclaimed. “I was going on about the kid Who Lived and you were sitting right there!” Ariadne laughed too, sitting down carefully on the step.

“I was… I was scared,” Ariadne replied. “But… I was scared  _ then _ too,” she added, thinking. Ginny sat down beside her. “I didn’t know what would happen if anyone found out.”

“ _ You _ being you, you being  _ you _ or both?” Ginny asked. Ariadne frowned.

“I’m not sure.” Ariadne fiddled with her fingers. “Both, I think.”

“You’re really brave, ‘Adne,” Ginny said. Ariadne smiled, noting her adoption of Hermione’s nickname for her. “Braver than you think… You saved  _ me _ ,” she added, her magic fluttering slightly.

“Hmm… I did-did-did- didn’t I?” Ariadne murmured. “Hasn’t really set in.”

“Welcome to the club!” Ginny stood up. “I’m, uh, going to go to bed. Good night.” With that Ginny, bobbed up the spiral staircase.

“G’night.” Ariadne sat for a moment, thinking. For the rest of the evening, Ariadne thought back to that uncomfortable evening at the Burrow. Ginny had understood, maybe the rest of the world might?

She didn’t know, however, and that scared her. But the world would know that she was transgender eventually, and it was slowly occurring to her that the longer she propagated the false story of her childhood - especially after Rita had pulled up the inconsistency she had, even if she’d apologized - the less people would be okay with it. She had to tell people, and the longer she didn’t, the worse the fallout would be.

Ariadne was broken from her contemplations by Hermione sidling up beside her after she’d finished getting changed into her pajamas.

“‘Adne?” she asked simply, before yawning.

“Hmm?”

“Can you, er, can you cast that spell for me? The one you made?” Hermione asked, the sound of her tapping her knuckles encroaching into Ariadne’s consciousness. Ariadne smiled, but frowned a bit.

“You know it, don’t you?” Ariadne asked, slightly confused. She’d  _ sensed _ Hermione doing it, she knew the spell.

“Yes, but… I like when you do it,” Hermione mumbled. “You do the hand motion better, it spreads more cohesively,” she hurriedly added, but Ariadne knew well enough that that wasn’t how the spell worked. Her smile grew as she realized that Hermione just wanted  _ her  _ to do it.

“All right then,” Ariadne replied warmly, grabbing her wand from her bedside table and stepping over to Hermione’s bunk. “ _ Lumos Astra _ ,” she said, overdoing the hand motion to make it seem like she was spreading the stars that sprang from her wand out more and finally flicking her wand superfluously.

“Thanks,” Hermione said, pulling Ariadne into a hug invisibly. “Good night, Ariadne.”

“Sweet dreams,” Ariadne replied, releasing her sister and watching as behind her, Hermione’s magic vanished behind the curtains, and she drew her own, sitting on her bed.

“ _ Lumos Astra _ ,” she murmured, casting it over herself. It was a light enough spell that she could have two instances up. Not three, unfortunately, so Hermione had been given priority over her stay in the Hospital Wing.

_ You’re really brave… braver than you think _ . Ginny’s voice echoed through Ariadne’s mind as she sat, tired.

One thing was certain. If she could kill a Basilisk and defeat Voldemort three times in a row, she could handle the press.

Ariadne Granger was done hiding.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little shorter than most recent, but the lil’ time-passing ones tend to be.  
> Once I’m done with the next chapter, I’ll take another short break to plan the next gigantic batch of chapters! Onwards to our version of Prisoner of Azkaban.


	74. Electives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the end of term coming up, the sisters pick their electives for their third year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s been a lot of people commenting lately, little old writer brain loves it. The hyperfixation is fueled!

“How’d it go?” Ariadne asked as Ron and Hermione left the study hall their Potions exam had been held in, casting the Blindsight charm to properly observe what promised to be a truly entertaining reaction from Ron, but was immediately thrown into laughter by the far more hilarious ‘sight’ of Hermione’s hair rigidly sticking straight up into the air. The boy threw his head back and groaned.

“Merlin, are you sure you can’t re-petrify me?” he asked. “That was a  _ nightmare _ . It’s like Snape thinks being petrified was our fault!”

“We were allowed a foot of parchment worth of notes, Ron, if you’d taken better notes you’d have been fine,” Hermione reminded him, seemingly undisturbed by her hair.

“How was I supposed to know he was going to assign the Hair-Raising potion as the practical section?!” Ron protested.

“You weren’t! You were supposed to study everything, not just what you thought might be in the exam!” Hermione exclaimed as Ariadne realized exactly what had happened to Hermione and burst out laughing.

“Hermione, I was a vegetable for a lot longer than you, I didn’t have a book full of research like you!”

“You could have asked,” Hermione reminded him.

“Well, clearly Hermione managed to make it. Did you at least do okay on the theoretical part?” Ariadne said, cutting in as Ron inhaled to respond. Ron sighed.

“Ugh, I guess? At least most of what I  _ did _ have notes on was related. Had to pull some stuff out of my arse though, no idea what potion Boomslang skin and Lacewing flies are key ingredients of,” Ron replied, starting to walk toward the Great Hall for dinner.

“Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione said smugly, behind him as the girls followed. “I read about it once, it’s fascinating. Allows the drinker to take the form of another person. Oh, and this won’t last too long, we were only supposed to make it last half an hour.” Hermione raised her hand to her hair, smiling.

“Well, we’ll see if you got  _ that  _ right soon enough,” Ariadne smiled.

“Oh I think I got it right.” Hermione started methodically flapping her hands in a pattern as she walked, one of the stims Ariadne now knew was a positive one. The study hall wasn’t far from the Great Hall, and they sat down with their dormmates near Ginny.

“Hey Hermione!” Parvati called as Ariadne recast the charm. “How was your exam? And er, what’s  _ up _ with your hair?” Hermione froze briefly, floundering.

“It was good! Had fun. Um. Ron didn’t,” she replied, smiling awkwardly. Parvati snorted, as the girls laughed. “The practical section was a Hair-Raising Potion,” she added, hesitantly pointing to her hair again and shaking her hand about as she put it down.

“Never seen your neck before, that’s a first,” Sally-Anne joked as Hermione’s hair wafted down back around her shoulders gently. “Ours was a Swelling Potion, pre-fermentation.”

“That’s better,” Hermione sighed. “Not my favourite potion, that felt weird”

“What  _ is _ your favourite potion?” Parvati asked.

“Hmm…” Hermione hummed, leaning back and idly flapping her right hand. “I’ll have to think about that one.” Professor McGonagall tapped what must have been her spoon on her glass.

“Good evening students,” Professor Dumbledore started, standing. “With next week being the final week of term, it is my duty to remind all second to sixth-year students, that they must choose their electives for next year and hand in their forms to their Heads of House by Thursday.” Hermione looked fairly elated at that. “Forms have been made available in your Common Rooms; ensure you have the correct form for your year. Thank you, dig in.” He sat back down, as the familiar lurching of food arriving filled Ariadne’s sixth sense. As Dumbledore finished, Hermione became even more animated.

“That got your attention! What electives are you taking?” Sally-Anne asked from across the table.

“I don’t know!” Hermione exclaimed. “They’re all so interesting!” Ariadne smiled as Hermione took a deep breath. “Arithmancy is really interesting because it’s the math behind a lot of magic, it’s similar to the stuff Ariadne and I were learning from Flitwick earlier in the year and we’d probably have a head start if we took it. Care of Magical creatures might be a bit scary in practicals but some of them are really unique like the Demiguise and the Lethifold, it’s like a mean cloak! Divination could be fascinating, telling the future. I wonder how that’ll look to Ariadne? Muggle Studies could be very interesting, to see how wizarding culture sees Muggles and how limited it might be. And Study of Ancient Runes could also be quite fun, I like that sort of thing.” Ariadne swore Hermione hadn’t taken a single breath while speaking.

“Well, we know that’s Hermione, that was in alphabetical order,” Lavender joked, eliciting a chuckle from Hermione as she bobbed on the spot.

\--

“Ooo, there are other electives that aren’t weekday classes,” Hermione said as she brought a bunch of sheets over to where Ariadne was sitting in the Common Room beside Ron. It had been surprisingly warm with summer arriving, and the fire was entirely out to prevent everyone from dehydrating due to sweat.

“Really?” Ariadne asked, sitting up in surprise.

“Yeah - what have we got… There’s an Art class, as well as a Muggle Art class, probably teaches non-magical artistic history, ooo we’ve got Music, related to which is Choir - oh Professor Flitwick has made his spellmaking workshop an extracurricular elective, nice. There’s a chess club, I’m sure you and Ron would find that interesting, as well as P.E,” Hermione read out, putting a sheet down in front of Ariadne and casting  _ aurum _ on the ink for her, so she didn’t have to nullify the radial aura.

“Oh, thanks,” Ariadne said, taking a look and thinking. She took her ink and pen out and held the pen.

“I think I’ll take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures,” Ron said, sitting down beside them and scratching down his answers. “Don’t think I’d enjoy the other ones. You said there was a chess club?”

“Yes, on Sundays. Unfortunately I think that conflicts with your Quidditch practice, ‘Adne, doesn’t it?” Hermione replied.

“Darn,” Ariadne muttered. “You going to go, Ron?”

“Nah,” Ron said. “I think I’ll come watch practice instead, it’s more fun. What electives are you taking?”

“I honestly can’t decide,” Hermione said.

“Neither,” Ariadne replied, frowning. She  _ was _ interested in Arithmancy, but the others were all equally interesting, so she ticked that first. “I might take Music though,” she said.

“Same, I was wanting to get back into piano,” Hermione replied. “Sheet music won’t be as much of a problem for you now, will it?”

“Exactly.” Ariadne had always wanted to pick up a music class even in primary school, but none of the teachers had let her, and neither of their parents played an instrument - attempts to self-teach hadn’t been successful either, as it was impossible to find sheet music in braille. She wouldn’t be able to read it at home, not without the aura charm, but she supposed she could memorize it easily enough once she’d sensed it. She ticked the Music box, as well as the spell-making workshop which was on the second Saturday slot. “Do you want to take Music as well, Ron?”

“Nah, not my thing. Ginny might want to later though, she always pretends she has a drumset,” Ron replied, trying not to laugh as Ginny walked past.

“When I was six maybe!” Ginny retorted, leaving the Common Room.

“Nah, I’m just gonna take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Divination’ll probably be easy, and Creatures is the only one I think I’d like,” Ron said.

“Do you think if we tick all of them they’ll just choose whatever’s available?” Hermione asked.

“Maybe?” Ariadne replied. She had to admit, aside from Arithmancy, she was just as stumped as Hermione. “I’ll do that,” she said, ticking all of the elective subject boxes as Ron laughed.

“You two really are nerds,” Ron cackled.

“I will too,” Hermione sighed, running down the page. “Let’s go take these to Professor McGonagall.” Ariadne nodded, blowing on the page to help the ink dry and getting up.

\--

As Professor McGonagall took in their papers in her office after a long queue, Ariadne sensed her eyebrow raise.

“You want to take… all of the elective subjects?” She asked them, slowly. Hermione jumped.

“That’s an option?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“Er-” McGonagall seemed surprised. “No, Grangers, it isn’t. You can only take two elective subjects, there’s only so much time in the week..” Hermione deflated, and McGonagall seemed surprised. “Girls, I must say as Head of Gryffindor House that I’m very proud of your enthusiasm, but you must understand that you would be taking  _ twelve _ classes. I doubt even you have the time.” McGonagall studied the sheets. “I’m glad to see you both taking Music with Professor Flitwick, and Ariadne the Spell-Making class?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes Professor. We could never get accessible sheet music, so this is the first time I really can,” Ariadne replied. “Professor Flitwick teaches Music?”

“Yes, he also handles the school choir. Music is rather a passion of his outside of Charms,” McGonagall stood, and began coming around her desk before stopping in her tracks. She looked… thoughtful, Ariadne supposed. She wasn’t sure if that was actually what that expression was, she was, after all, still learning them. “Hmmm… For now, if I could have you two rank which classes you would like to take in order, we’ll see what we can put you into. However, I believe you trustworthy, and there  _ may _ be precedent for students taking more classes than time constraints would allow, I will get back to you regarding the possibility,” she said, handing the sheets back to them.

“How do you mean, Professor?” Hermione asked, curiously, as Ariadne reached into her bag for her magic ink and pen.

“There is only so much time in the week, Miss Granger, so obviously one cannot take more classes than time allows… that is, unless one has some say over that time’s passage,” McGonagall smiled. Hermione looked up, slightly shocked. Was McGonagall talking about manipulating  _ time _ ? “I cannot  _ promise _ this, so do not be disappointed if the answer is no, but I may be able to secure license of a Time Turner for your use in order to take all of the elective classes, but if you accept that, I want to be very clear.” McGonagall leant on the desk, her voice becoming stern. “You will be taking  _ twelve subjects _ . The courseload would be immense, even for such studious individuals as yourselves. Additionally, you will be required to maintain utter secrecy of such acts, not to share the Time Turner with others, and to adhere to the handbook on temporal mechanics, paradox avoidance and best practice I will give you if it is allowed.” Both of the girls nodded. “ _ Any _ deviation from the regulations laid out will result in the confiscation of the Time Turner. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Ariadne replied, noting how Hermione had begun happily spinning her wrists.

“And I would impress upon you that premature withdrawal from any of those elective classes in order to reduce course load is to be encouraged if you two find yourselves unable to handle it; to be quite frank, you’ll be able to afford the loss of exam credits by an extensive margin. I know how you two can bury yourselves in work, don’t burn yourselves out,” McGonagall told them. “Now, if you don’t mind ranking those quickly, I can take them and look into the matter for you.”

After leaving her office and rejoining Ron after he’d handed in his own, they made sure not to speak of it in front of him. After all, absolute secrecy was absolute secrecy.

“So which ones did you pick?” Ron asked, sending Ariadne’s heartrate into the stratosphere. Absolute secrecy was off to a bad start.

“Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, like you,” Hermione replied.  _ Clever _ , she thought. If they were taking all of them, then Ron would be in those classes with them.

“I thought you were taking Arithmancy?” Ron said, leaning toward Ariadne.

“I-I-I- put it as my um, as my secondary for if-if-if -if there’s no spaces,” she stammered.

“Wait what?” Ron stopped, confused. “Were we supposed to do that?”

“I dunno, but I did?” Ariadne replied, as loud footfalls approached the corner ahead of them. From behind the wall came the sprinting magical core of Ginny Weasley, occluding the walls and creating an odd shadow. She was breathing heavily and her magic was incredibly chaotic.

“Ariadne!” Ginny called. “I -ngggggg- someone took my bag!”

“ _ Aurum Radia _ . What?!” Ariadne exclaimed, revealing Ginny. She didn’t look in a good way, and she was holding her stomach. She was wearing her off-day clothes, jeans and a t-shirt.

With no pockets, and certainly none big enough.

“Oh god. Who took it?” Ariadne asked hurriedly.

“Um,” Ginny clenched briefly. “It was, um, it was that boy in Slytherin, Ben Harper? Malfoy was with him.” Ariadne almost growled at that, her face going red. Harper was another first-year in Slytherin, who’d been taken in by Malfoy’s little pack. Ginny clapped a hand to her mouth, making a swallowing noise.

“What’s wrong? We can just get it back, right?” Ron asked, looking between the girls bewilderedly.

“ _ The book was in her bag _ ,” Ariadne whispered, and Ron’s mouth hung open.

“Merlin…”

“Do you need to go to Pomfrey?” Ariadne asked Ginny, who struggled to shake her head. “Okay, let’s go, lead the way. Come on!” Ginny ran off, followed closely by Ariadne and then by Hermione and Ron. Ginny led them spiralling around the courtyard and into the grounds, before suddenly slowing down and limping slightly. Shortly after, Ariadne spotted the magical core of Draco Malfoy on the field, with Crabbe, Goyle and a few others including who she believed was Harper.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne revealed the area to herself and then stomped angrily toward the group. “Harper! Give the bag back,  _ right now _ ,” she snarled.

“I don’t have it,” Harper replied, smugly with a smile on his face. Ariadne faux-glared at him, her attention around the rest of the group, looking for what had to be Ginny’s bag. Unfortunately, she didn’t quite know how to differentiate it from the group’s own bags.

“Then who does?” Harper shrugged. Ginny’s leg gave way, and she groaned in pain as she hit the ground. Malfoy started cackling.

“Awwww, she’s a cripple too! You give her your legs and you’ll make a whole person, Granger!” Malfoy laughed as Ariadne watched Hermione and Ron help Ginny back up behind her. Ron stepped forward once Ginny was safely leaning on Hermione.

“Give Ginny her bag back, Malfoy!” Ron yelled, pulling his own wand out and pointing it at the boy, who was indeed holding a satchel. Ariadne tensed her hand around her own, still out after she’d cast the Blindsight Charm.

“Why should I, Weasley?” Malfoy taunted.

“Is that her bag?” Ariadne asked Ron, without turning to him. Ron nodded, humming affirmatively. “Give it here,  _ Draco _ . Right now,” she said, marvelling at how she had yet to stammer.

“What’s in here you want back so much?” Malfoy asked smugly, opening the bag. Both Ron and Ariadne jumped as he reached his hand in and pulled something out - whatever it was, the occlusion of what was behind it was rectangular. Malfoy’s face sank into horror as he shoved it back into the bag. Ariadne stepped forward.

“I’ll tell you what,  _ Draco _ . You give me that bag, and I won’t run to the papers about just  _ why _ you know  _ exactly _ what that is,” she whispered to him, a cruel grin covering her face. “If not, well, I’m sure you’ve read all about Gilderoy Lockhart.” Malfoy hurriedly shoved it into her arms, and she threw it onto her left shoulder and flicked an eyebrow at him. “Good choice,” she said, voice filled with ice. She turned, walking quickly back toward Ginny and held it out to her.

Behind her, Malfoy pulled his wand out and she straightened her spine slightly, tightening her hold on her wand again. Malfoy swung his wand at her.

“ _ Locomotor Mortis! _ ” he yelled, as Ariadne flicked her wand toward him over her shoulder and a beam of red energy spat from his wand.

“ _ Protego _ ,” she said calmly, a spherical bubble of green energy forming around her for a moment, before fading and revealing the red beam from Malfoy’s wand slamming straight back into him; she smiled at her own aim as Malfoy’s legs were glued together by the very spell he’d occasionally bullied Neville with previously. “ _ Expelliarmus _ ,” she added half-heartedly, jettisoning Malfoy’s wand from his hand, still not even facing the boy and casting over her shoulder. Ginny took the bag, and swung it over her shoulder. “This was fun, Malfoy, lessss-let-let’s-let’s-let’s never do it again,” she called back as they walked away. “Feeling better?” she whispered to Ginny.

“Mhmm,” she hummed. “Thanks ‘Adne,” she said, her flickering magic starting to go back to normal.

“No problem,” Ariadne smiled. “I’ve wanted to do that since he cheated at the dueling club.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty, let’s see how long it takes me to plan out Kaleidoscopic Grangers!Prisoner of Azkaban - there’ll be a brief pause in updates as I plan them, but I’ll be back shortly enough!


	75. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the final week of term, Ariadne makes preparations for more eventful holidays and begins the process of coming out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist it only took me like a few hours to plan out the next like 30 chapters so HERE WE GO BABEY  
> We’re coming up close behind Pharetra’s Raven’s Colours story in hits, so I want to say: Go read Raven’s Colours. It’s very good and it inspired this story; without Raven’s Colours, there would be no Kaleidoscopic Grangers. It’s sadly unfinished and abandoned, but let’s send Pharetra some love, eh?

Ariadne sat on the couch in the Common Room, frowning inwardly as she thought. It was Tuesday evening, and she was holding a piece of parchment on a clipboard and her pen in hand, not knowing what to write. Around her, her housemates lounged about if they weren’t studying - some of the older students hadn’t had their last few exams. Seamus and Ron played chess behind her somewhere with the magic wizard’s chess, and all was relatively calm. Ariadne sighed frustratedly and leant back into the couch, before standing and probing her way to the staircase. For the stairs, she used the charm, but wanted to get back used to using her cane before going home so was avoiding using it.

She plopped down on her bed, laying the clipboard down and thinking.

“What’s up?” Hermione asked, sitting down beside her. “You look like something’s on your mind.”

“Yeah, um…” Ariadne mumbled. “I’m-I’m-I’m-I’m goingtocomeout,” she said hastily. “I’m going to come out.”

“Oh… Oh wow!” Hermione exclaimed. “Um, when, how?”

“Over the summer,” she replied. “I-I was think-thinking the um, the radio show, Wi-wi-wizarding Wireless? I could-could-could explain a lot easier, answer questions.”

“Right, that makes sense. How come you want to do this now?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve been thinking about how Rita mentioned inconsistencies-”

“Rita mentioned what?!” Hermione gasped, turning to her and her previously curious hand-flapping ceased. With a shock, Ariadne realized she’d never told Hermione.

“Oh. Um. I had an interview while you were petrified,” she replied, sheepishly. “I um, I panicked and I ran out. I accidentally implied that I was adopted later than we said, and Rita noticed immediately. We’re on better terms now after Lockhart but the longer I don’t address-ess-ess the issue, the worse it will be. Same goes for me being trans.”

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. The longer you don’t tell them, the more they’ll think you were lying?”

“Yeah.” Ariadne tapped the clipboard. “Need to talk to mum and dad about it.”

“Writing to them?”

“Hm.”

“Need some help?”

\--

> _Mum and Dad,_
> 
> _(22/06/03)_
> 
> _I’ve been thinking. As you probably read, Rita Skeeter mentioned inconsistencies regarding when I was adopted in that article that got published while Hermione was petrified. I’ve realized that the longer I don’t explain them, the worse the reaction will be when people realize I lied._
> 
> _I think it would be best to come clean as soon as possible. Explain to people what happened to me, and what my life was like before you adopted me._
> 
> _And I should publicly come out as trans. The longer I take with that, it’ll be horrible. We should get it over with before it’s been too long. It’ll be bad at school, but if I can handle a Basilisk, I can handle Draco Malfoy and his little pack of bullies. He tried jinxing me the other day, after he stole Ron’s sister’s bag and I went to help get it back - I deflected it straight back at him without even turning around! Wasn’t anything serious, just a Leg-Locking Jinx, but it was really funny._
> 
> _I think I should do it soon, over the radio, the Wizarding Wireless Network; I’ll have more control, and be able to answer questions instead of leaving them to be published. I might also invite Rita Skeeter over the next day to talk (she likes me again, I exposed Gilderoy Lockhart to her, but I did also promise her I’d address the inconsistencies later), see if I can’t make sure the papers are favourable._
> 
> _I won’t send anything off until we’ve talked about it._
> 
> _Hermione says hi! She says she’s sorry she hasn’t written much since getting resuscitated, but she’s been very busy studying._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Ariadne._

Satisfied with the letter, Ariadne sent it off that night. She estimated she’d probably get the response on the morning before taking the train, and if not they’d simply discuss it when they got home. As Hermes swung away from the window and she closed it, she turned around and took a deep breath.

“ _Aurum Radia_. Hey, um, guys, can-can-can I-um, can I talk to you guys?” she asked, her hands starting to feel numb as she sat down on the end of her bed, leaning on one of the pillars.

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” Sally-Anne replied, leaning on the handrail that surrounded the inactive heater. Hermione half-gasped and stood beside Ariadne as the others gathered.

“What is it?” Lavender asked curiously. “You look worried.” Ariadne smiled.

“Um, yeah. I need to tell you all something,” Ariadne said, realizing she was speaking too quietly as Parvati leant in closer to hear. “I haven’t really told many people this, not since coming to Hogwarts. I’ll tell everyone else soon, but maybe don’t tell anyone? Please? I got beaten up for it in non-magical school,” She asked.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Sally-Anne said. “I know I share a lot, but that’s just me. We’ll respect your privacy.”

“Thanks. Um, do you um, do you-do you remember what I said at the start of the school year? That I have a condition that means I can’t have kids?” Ariadne asked.

“Oh yeah, that. What about it?” Parvati replied. Ariadne fidgeted as Hermione took hold of her right hand.

“It’s um… it’s less of a condition and more just how I was born,” she said, again too quietly. “Have any of you heard the word transgender before?” Parvati gasped.

“No way…” Sally-Anne whispered, looking around to what looked like vacant expressions. Nobody else other than Parvati knew what it meant.

“Okay, so um… I’m-I’m a girl, I couldn’t get up here if I weren’t, but um. I can’t get pregnant because I don’t have…” Ariadne waved her hands in the general direction of her legs, which she crossed as the Blindsight Charm faded. “That. When I was born they thought I was a boy. _Aurum Radia_.”

“Wait, what?” Lavender asked. “What, do you have - oh. You’ve got a boy’s body? And that’s why everyone thought you were called Harry?”

“Er,” Ariadne stuttered, shifting her head with uncertainty. “It’s more-it’s more complicated but, that’s the-the-the-the- the easy way to explain it. Girl in here,” she said, tapping her temple. “I _was_ called, um, that, but not anymore. It’s what the the potions, the-the-the ones I take every morning are for. Madam Pomfrey’s making sure I have a girl puberty instead of… well. The one I would have had.”

“So you grow boobs and not a beard?” Sally-Anne asked, cocking her head. Ariadne uncomfortably nodded, hanging her own head nervously.

“She’ll be a bit behind is all, and she won’t get periods,” Hermione offered, clearly noticing Ariadne’s discomfort and heading off questions.

“Lucky,” Sally-Anne muttered. “Trust me, you don’t want them anyway, they _suck_.” Hermione nodded at that.

“ _That’s_ why you’ve both got similar names, even though you were adopted!” Kellah exclaimed. “I was wondering about that, you chose a name to match, didn’t you?” Ariadne grinned and nodded.

“We got a book out about Greek mythology, I was considering Persephone and Hestia but… Ariadne kinda stuck, you know?” Ariadne explained, smiling. Now that the discussion was carrying itself nicely, she was having a much easier time.

“Yeah, it’s a really pretty name,” Sally-Anne replied, standing closer. “And so are you, by the way. It suits you.” Ariadne blushed, smiling back. “Does anyone else know? Obviously we won’t tell anyone, just checking.” Ariadne nodded.

“Yep. Ron and his sister do. Ron saw my scar in first-year so I explained it to him, and Ginny… uh, Ginny walked in on me changing while we were staying, we’d been playing Quidditch and I was all sweaty so I went to get changed and forgot to tell her I was using the room,” she replied, blushing heavily at the anecdote while Sally-Anne laughed slightly.

“That must have been scary. I mean, _this_ must have been scary. Well done, Ariadne,” Parvati said. “It can’t be easy to tell people about it.” Ariadne nodded, yawning and stretching.

“Thanks. Thanks for listening, um, I’m gonna-gonna-onna-gonna go to bed,” she stammered, shifting off the end of the bed and feeling her way back around to the side. She was damn surprised it had gone that well.

“Good night, Ariadne!” Sally-Anne called. “Oh and good luck. Telling everyone else, that is. No wonder you’re in Gryffindor, you have to be brave just to be you!” Ariadne sniffed in slight laughter.

“Yeah. That’s what the Sorting Hat said,” she said to herself. “ _Lumos Astra_.”

\--

The trip down to the Hogwarts Express that Friday was infinitely easier with the Blindsight Charm, even if she had to refresh it annoyingly frequently. It also meant she had her hand a lot more free without having to use her cane, and was holding it alongside her wrapped broom. Her cane would have come in handy a few times on the grounds, but she only tripped a few times and she’d always landed on her trunk and not the ground, which at least wasn’t as bad. Eventually, with her trunk, broom, case full of her potions and Hermes’ cage loaded onto the train, Ariadne joined the others finding a seat. Once she, Hermione, Ron and Ginny were aboard and shut away in the compartment, Ginny tapped Ariadne on the shoulder, her magic shuddering slightly.

“Hmm?” Ariadne hummed as she sat down, turning to the still-standing girl as Ginny took her hand and pressed what felt like a piece of parchment into her hand.

“What is it Ginny?” Hermione asked, curiously.

“Um,” Ginny’s wand appeared in Ariadne’s senses as she pulled it from her pocket. “ _Aurum_ ink?” Ginny cast questioningly, and a few words in cursive appeared on whatever had been put into Ariadne’s hands. _Ginevra Weasley_ \- _From St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_.

“You want me to read this?” Ariadne asked. Feeling the envelope, it had already been opened. She carefully opened it and pulled out the letter, making sure it wasn’t exposed to Ron and Hermione.

> _Miss Ginevra Weasley_
> 
> _An appointment has been made for you with Doctor Tenet at Saint Mungo’s Hospital, Fourth Floor - the Janus Thickey Ward - on Saturday the 2nd of August at 1:30pm._
> 
> _Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries can be accessed via the Floo Network by the name “Saint Mungo’s.”_
> 
> _Please send an owl to confirm your availability as soon as possible, or to reschedule so your timeslot can be given to another patient._
> 
> _Given the particular nature of your condition and her ability to sense when it is in play, this and further correspondence should be shared with Miss Ariadne Granger when necessary, as her unique insights may be required on occasion. Madam Pomfrey has informed us that your parents have been made aware of the situation, but that they seem confused - Miss Granger may need to explain it to them for you._
> 
> _-St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

“Oh, um, okay,” Ariadne mumbled, carefully folding the letter back into its envelope as the ink faded from her sense. “Would you like me to come over tomorrow, explain it to them?” Ginny nodded.

“Yes, please,” she said. “It’s your birthday next week, isn’t it? Are you doing anything for that?” Ginny asked, changing the subject and sitting down as Ariadne handed the letter back. Ariadne drew back slightly. With everything going on, she hadn’t realized. The Thursday the next week was her thirteenth birthday.

“Oh, it is. I forgot about that!” she spluttered as Hermione laughed.

“Luckily we didn’t,” Hermione taunted.

“I haven’t really thought about it, um… I’ll talk to Mum and Dad, do you two want to come over?” Ariadne said, turning her head to face the Weasley pair. It sounded like Ginny was nodding, she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of not always using visual communication around Ariadne.

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” Ron replied. “You guys have got a Floo now, right?”

“Yep, we do. We need to get the name changed though, Ariadne’s stammer might cause problems,” Hermione said. “Don’t want Knockturn Alley to happen again.” Ariadne laughed, and thanks to the cheery discussion, almost forgot the gargantuan task she’d set herself that holiday season until they arrived back at London and were wrapped in hugs by their parents.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay!” Valerie exclaimed, her face buried in Ariadne’s bushy hair. “You’re sure you even want to go back next year?!”

“It’s fine,” Ariadne mumbled.

“You think a gigantic snake that almost killed you, Ron, Hermione _and_ Ron’s sister is ‘fine?’” Valerie asked, horrified. Ariadne deflated. She had a point.

“No. Bu-but-but there aren’t any more!” she protested.

“Good,” her mother said, releasing her and sounding like she had switched to Hermione. Ariadne let the largely grey figure of her father take the trolley from her.

“Not using that spell of yours?” he asked quizzically. “I thought it was really useful?”

“Can’t use my wand here,” Ariadne replied simply, patting her pocket as Ron, Ginny, Percy and the twins came out of the wall and Molly intercepted them.

“Ronald! Ginny!” Molly cried, seeming to pull them both into a hug. “Oh my god!”

“Muuuummm!” Ron complained, crushed by his mother.

“What about at home?” Dennis asked, the slight glint of yellow within him turning back to her. “Can you use it then?”

“N-no. It’s-ss-s-s-s-it’s-it-it’s-s-s-s it’s not-no-nononon-not a… It’s not on the list,” Ariadne replied, slurring her words as Ginny’s magic started to spike. “Hold on.” Ariadne carefully probed over, still not having quite adjusted back to using her cane.

“Ginny, I just want to know what’s going on!” Molly pleaded, leaning toward her daughter.

“What’re you talking about?” Percy asked, confused.

“Mum, she can’t say anything about it!” Ron exclaimed as Ariadne approached. “That’s literally what it is!”

“Mrs. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley,” Ariadne called, walking over. “Um, I know best what’s going on, and I can see when it is, please don’t put pressure on Ginny. She can’t tell you,” she recited, having tried to script something to say just in case. “Mum? Is it okay if I go to the Burrow tomorrow? I need to talk to them about this,” she asked, spinning her head to face Valerie.

“Yeah, no problem. Do you want to go over too, Hermione?”

“Yes please!” Hermione replied. “Might as well make a day of it.”

“Okay. I’ll come over tomorrow, I can explain it all. Don’t try to ask her, it’ll only make it worse,” Ariadne added. “R-Ro-Ron knows a little but not much.”

“Oh all right, I’ll wait, but I don’t like it,” Molly said, relenting and moving back. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Okay! See you Ron, Ginny!” Ariadne smiled, waving to her friends and retreating back to the Grangers. After hoisting their trunks into the boot and driving out of the packed King’s Cross station carpark, Valerie spoke up.

“So, we got your letter yesterday; didn’t think anything would get back to you, so Hermes is hanging around at home. So, you’re going to come out?” Valerie said.

“You’re okay with that?” Ariadne asked, having expected more protective pushback.

“Well it’s not our decision, it’s yours. We can only make sure you’re safe. You’re sure you want to do this?” Dennis replied from the driver’s seat. “You know what happened in primary school.”

“Yeah, I just… It’ll be worse if I do it later. The sooner I get it over with, the less of a problem it’ll be,” Ariadne replied, squeezing her palm.

“Okay. Okay, we’ll be there too if you’re doing it on radio, and you were gonna tell them about what happened with your relatives as well?” Valerie asked. She could hear the concern in their voices, but tried not to let it bother her.

“Yep. I’d rather tell everyone now than later, because if I tell them later they’re going to be angry I kept so many secrets for so long. I told the girls in our dorm the other night, they took it well! I think the fact that the dorm stairs know I’m a girl helps.”

“Oh that’s a good sign at least. I suppose we have some letters to write out then, to the radio people and that reporter woman you wanted to talk to, Rita was her name?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Ariadne steps ever closer to coming out, and we sidle into our version of Prisoner of Azkaban! Let’s see what errant plot nuggets are altered by Ariadne’s magic senses ;P


	76. Important Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne leads up to her coming out to the world, and Ginny’s appointment brings with it some bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sike, this isn’t the coming out chapter, but we’re getting to that! Lots of things to do!  
> TW: Unpleasant doctor stuff? I dunno, but I thought I should say.

“Hey Ariadne!” Ginny called as Ariadne and Hermione, followed by their parents, tumbled from the large fireplace into the Weasley living room - Ginny had probably been the one to let them in. Ariadne spat some dust from her mouth and stood from the ground, propping herself up on the nearest chair she could feel.

“Hey Ginny!” she said, smiling although still coughing on ash.

“Good morning, Grangers!” Arthur called, himself just entering the living room from outside, probably fresh from work. “Molly, she’s here!”

“Ah!” Molly exclaimed, veritably falling down the stairs as she came. “Oh there you are, good good good. Would you like some tea, bacon? The kettle should still be hot and I always leave extra bacon for sandwiches. Sorry about that, Ariadne, I always forget to sweep the chimney.” Molly slapped over to the kitchen in what had to have been a pair of slippers.

“That’d be great, thanks Molly,” Dennis replied. “Two sugars, please.”

“Milk?”

“Yes please,” Dennis sat down in a chair as Arthur passed to the staircase, kissing Molly on the way.

“Shall I go get all the boys, Molly? I’m sure Ron’s gone back to bed by now,” he asked.

“Probably should, yes. I’ll fix the Grangers up something and then little Ariadne can explain the situation to us all.” Ariadne shifted on her feet as Molly answered. She wasn’t looking forward to telling Arthur and Molly what was wrong with their daughter. As Ariadne sat down, probing her way to the chair, Ron and Fred came down.

“Oh hey Ariadne!” Fred said. “This about Gin-Gin’s thing?” Ginny giggled at the nickname, and Ariadne nodded solemnly. “All right, I’ll get George.”

“What’s George doing?” Ariadne asked.

“You’ll see… if it works, that is. One sec.” With that, Fred hopped back upstairs quickly, with Percy and Arthur arriving past him as the kettle whistled and bored into Ariadne’s skull until Molly started pouring tea. Hermione didn’t seem to like it either as her magic shuddered and she flinched. Shortly after, the twins returned and everyone sat down. Ginny sat directly beside Ariadne, the Weasley parents opposite the pair.

“So. Molly says you know what’s happening to our Ginny?” Arthur started, leaning forward slightly. Ariadne took a deep breath, nodding.

“Yes, Mister Weasley. Um, do you remember the petrifications that happened this year? Well no, of course you remember, you know the petrifications that happened this year?” She started, cursing her instinct to ask if they  _ remembered _ whether one of their sons had been petrified. They hummed affirmatively. “They were caused by a, by a dark artifact, linked to Voldemort-” she explained, cut off as Arthur jumped slightly.

“Don’t say his name,” the man muttered.

“Sorry. A dark artifact linked to You Know Who, that was… controlling a student to try to kill non-magic-born children. The Basilisk’s eyes didn’t work because nobody saw it directly, but um,  _ Ginny _ was the student it was controlling.” Molly gasped.

“ _ Oh my god _ …” she cried, muffled by what must have been her own hand over her mouth. “My poor baby…” Ariadne grimaced.

“But the problem was, the artifact  _ knew _ that if it… possessed Ginny directly all the time, I would see it. I mean, I could see the book like  _ that _ ,” Ariadne snapped her fingers, “it looked just like Vol- You Know Who,” she continued, catching herself. “So instead, it did something to Ginny, to her magic, so she can’t communicate about it. It’s why she can’t talk about it, why  _ she  _ can’t tell you. And it’s in her own magic now, the doctor said it registered as if it was… spontaneous-spon-spon-spontaneous magic in a child! I can sense when it’s happening, her magical core starts going all shaky and weird.” Ariadne exhaled, having run out of breath. “But that’s not the only thing it did. The other thing it did was make it so that she couldn’t leave the book. Ginny tried to get rid of it, but it made her have… sort of withdrawal symptoms if she didn’t reclaim it. She almost managed to permanently get rid of it by flushing it down the toilet but Myrtle got in the way and it came back out. Hermione and I found it, we tried to study it, but it managed to make Ginny grab it again and then made her petrify Hermione.”

“That’s horrible…” Valerie muttered. Ariadne was pretty sure nobody had taken a sip of their tea, they were so sorry for Ginny. To break that awkwardness, she felt around for her own and drank some before continuing.

“But it made it worse after that, to-to the point she can’t willingly release it. It can be  _ taken _ from her, but she can’t give it to anyone, she can’t deliberately leave it out of her possession. And if it’s out of her possession, the withdrawal effect is quicker and stronger now. Malfoy’s friends stole her bag a couple of weeks ago and she was almost puking by the time she came and got us, and it was less than half an hour,” Ariadne explained. Molly clapped her second hand to her face before standing and coming around the table to envelop Ginny in a hug, crying.

“So who has… where’s the…?” Arthur asked, leaning more toward Ariadne. Ariadne pointed to Ginny as she took another sip of her tea.

“Mmm. Ginny has it for now, but Dumbledore says it’s not really safe to have her keep it, in case something fixes it - I broke it, I can’t see any magic in it, but he’s right I guess,” Ariadne told him. “But unless Doctor Tenet has an idea, it’s the only way of stopping the withdrawal effect.”

“And that’s the appointment on the weekend?” Molly asked. “The one with Saint Mungo’s?” Ariadne nodded as Arthur sniffed and joined the now three-way hug with their daughter.

“ _ Merlin _ ,” Fred murmured. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“We hope?” Ariadne offered. “I’m not-I’m not a doctor.”

\--

“Happy Birthday!” Ginny exclaimed, the little yellow, blue, and red core coming to an immediate stop after leaping from the Floo as Hermione stood beside it, letting people in. She was shortly joined by Ron, Molly, and then Fred and George as well. “Oh wow, your house is really nice!” Ginny approached Ariadne, stopping short. “Oh! Right, you don’t have your spell. Um, I’m holding out a box.” Ariadne felt around for it, first nudging her arms, before finding the small offered box and taking it, smiling.

“Thanks, Ginny,” Ariadne said as Ron came over as well after greeting Hermione.

“Yeah, happy birthday, Ariadne!” the twins said in unison while Molly coordinated with the Granger parents and an owl landed on the windowsill.

“I’ll get it,” said Hermione, hopping over.

“Open it!” Ginny urged, leaning forward a little. Ariadne fiddled with the bow that had been poorly tied onto it, and pulled the lid open to feel within a small shape - it was long, and seemed to have two protrusions, and a slightly hooked end. The other end was a little too detailed for her to get her fingers between the strands of metal.

“Is this..?”

“It’s a phoenix keychain!” Ginny exclaimed. Ariadne’s face fell awkwardly, as much as she appreciated the gesture that she knew Ginny couldn’t explain, there was one small problem.

“I don’t um, I don’t really have  _ keys _ ,” she said. “Wait!” she scampered as fast as she could to her room with her cane, coming back with her bag. “I can put it on this though!” she called as she returned to the living room. She put the bag down and fiddled with the phoenix to find its clasp, and hooked it around the zip on the bag. Giving it a tug to check it was secure, she held it up triumphantly.

“Nice, there we go!” Ginny said. “I guess you’ll see what it looks like when we get back to school.” Ariadne nodded.

“I’ll get its shape anyway. What colour is it? The charm doesn’t give me that,” Ariadne asked, brushing her finger along the bird, able to identify its beak and some details of its plumage.

“This is just from Rita, I’ll leave it on the bench for you later, okay?” Hermione called, behind the bench.

“Yes please,” Ariadne replied, turning back to Ginny.

“It’s just silver, I was going to paint it but I didn’t have time. But I guess if you won’t be able to tell the colour, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Ginny told her, seeming forlorn at the latter.

“Paint has a different texture to metal, though,” Ariadne said, matter-of-factly. “I’d be able to feel it, even if I couldn’t see it,” she added. She couldn’t see Ginny, but she imagined Ginny probably felt a bit better about her idea then. “You paint?” Ariadne asked.

“Mhmm! I’m not very good at it though,” Ginny replied sheepishly. “Canvas and paint’s expensive, so I haven’t had much practice.” Ariadne took note of  _ that _ , remembering that it was the girl’s own birthday in a few weeks.

“Oh let us have her too, would ya Gin-Gin?” Fred called, feigning outrage. “There’s a queue!” Ginny laughed and stepped aside, letting Ron come over with his own gifts. Ron hadn’t  _ bought _ her anything, but he’d made some biscuits under the tutelage of his mother - in truth, they weren’t very good as Ron wasn’t the best cook even with Molly Weasley guiding him, but Ariadne appreciated them all the same. Fred and George, meanwhile had produced a small handful of false Snitches - apparently the recreation wasn’t perfect, and they did feel different to the touch, but flying quickly, they’d look convincing. They also weren’t the same colour as the real Snitch was to Ariadne, and once caught in a game would explode into a cloud of glitter.

Assuming it was a joke and that they did not intend for Ariadne to cheat in House Quidditch matches, she laughed along and then planned to use them in any more games they played in the Weasley orchard. She’d see how they laughed when their own pranks were turned against them with a devious grin.

\--

“Saint Mungo’s,” Ginny said, standing in the fireplace and holding Ariadne’s hand beside her, throwing the pinch of magical powder down. The Weasley pair - Ron and Ginny - had stayed over for the night after her birthday, and then the Grangers had stayed over for the next night so as to make Ariadne coming along to Ginny’s appointment more convenient. The world devolved into a chaotic web around Ariadne for but a moment as magical flame erupted around them and she held onto Ginny’s hand for dear life, before they stumbled from the Floo entrance into what could only have been the lobby of Saint Mungo’s Hospital. Behind them, Molly and Arthur emerged with a flash of magic, and began walking toward the partially-obscured magical core of whoever must have been the receptionist.

“Good afternoon, my daughter has an appointment with Doctor Tenet at 1:30?” Molly said quietly as Ariadne let Ginny guide her over. “Oh no, the redhead. This is Ariadne, she’s supposed to come too.” Ariadne rolled her eyes at the assumption that she was the one with the appointment when as far as she knew, she hardly looked like the daughter of Molly Weasley.

“Ariadne  _ Granger _ ? Oh wow. Okay, um, can I get her name please?” the receptionist asked.

“Ginevra Weasley,” Molly replied, leaning back as the person behind the desk leafed through what sounded like a stack of parchment.

“All right, if you could all come through here, I’ll take you to the waiting room. Doctor Tenet should be with you shortly.” The person stood, and the group followed them through the vague outlines of hallways Ariadne could sense from the magical residue left on the walls. Nicely, she could sense some degree of the shape of the chairs in the waiting room, and sat beside Ginny with Arthur on Ginny’s other side. The chair wasn’t very comfortable, it was far too large for Ariadne to lean back in and have her feet comfortably off the side, not at the same time. It was one or the other, and she generally chose the position that kept her feet comfortable even if it meant her being a little hunched over on the edge of the seat. Somewhere, a ticking noise echoed across the room as a radio buzzed out music outdated to even the wizarding world to her right. A clock.

“Wh-uh, um- what time is it?” Ariadne asked.

“Um… one twenty-seven or so?” Ginny replied quietly. Ariadne nodded and kept fidgeting. The appointment wasn’t even for her but she was still nervous. After what felt far longer than two and a half minutes, the familiar magic of Doctor Tenet peered around the corner.

“Ah, Ginny! These would be your parents, yes? Lovely. I’m Doctor Melody Tenet, handling Ginny’s case,” Melody said, stepping over to the parents.

“Yes, I’m Molly, and this is my husband Arthur, it’s good to meet you, Doctor,” Molly said, standing and probably shaking Tenet’s hand.

“And you, I just wish it were under better circumstances. Now, Ginny, if you’d follow me please? Ariadne, you too,” she replied gently, beginning to lead them from the waiting room. “I’ll let you know if we need any more than half an hour.”

“All right,” Arthur said, seeming to briefly hug Ginny as they left. “Take care of her.”

“I will, Mister Weasley. This way, girls.” With that, Doctor Tenet led the pair down a hallway and into another small room, within which lay a number of magical implements and devices, and asked them to sit down. Ginny helped Ariadne locate a chair, and the pair sat on one side of the room while Tenet sat across from them. “All right, Ginny, how are you feeling?”

“Um, I’m all right,” Ginny replied quietly. “It’s nice to be home.”

“I’m sure it is after your year. No withdrawal elements sneaking in even with the artifact?” Ginny’s magic shuddered as she was prevented from answering the question. “Ariadne?”

“Um, I haven’t seen anything like that in her magic?” Ariadne replied.

“All right, it’s something. Okay, Ginny, we’re going to start off by trying the same things we did at Hogwarts, but I have more specialized equipment with which to read your magical activity, okay?” Ginny hummed. “Okay. I’ll just turn these on, and we’ll get started.” Tenet stood and went around to some of the taller magical contraptions, wheeling them into position around Ginny and flicking a switch on each to cause a shaft of orange light to connect it to Ginny’s magical core. Once four of these were connected, Ariadne watched as they attempted to communicate regarding the events again, the spikes in Ginny’s magic translating along the lines.

After a few tries, Tenet reset the devices, collected the results on a sheet of parchment - or at least that was how it sounded - and reconnected them to Ginny.

“Okay, Miss Weasley? I’m going to attempt to read the withdrawal effect now, which I understand will not be pleasant but we will keep it as brief as possible to keep it from escalating. Ariadne, I want you keeping an eye as well, have me return the artifact to her if it appears to get suddenly worse.” Ginny’s magic spasmed as she must have suddenly nodded. Tenet stepped over, leaning down and pulled the book out of Ginny’s bag. Arcs of activity began spreading up the magical tethers as Ginny started taking deep breaths, her magic began to spike slightly and Ariadne heard the scratching of a device reading the results onto a strip of paper. The results sounded more chaotic and greater as the pen flitted around. Ginny began to rock in her chair as her breath got deeper, and after a few minutes, Tenet gave the book back to her and her magic stabilized. Doctor Tenet exhaled in some form of emotion as she compiled the results.

“Okay. I’m going to go and get your parents now, as I believe I know how this can be treated,” Tenet said, and Ginny jumped in her seat. “ _ But _ , I don’t think you will like how, and it must have the permission of your parents.” Ginny clutched Ariadne’s arm as Tenet quickly left the room.

“What is she going to do to me?” Ginny whispered anxiously.

“I-I don’t know,” Ariadne replied, just as concerned. Not a minute later, Tenet returned and sat back down, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in tow who also sat beside Ginny.

“Okay. The effect of the artifact is heavily embedded within Ginny’s inherent magic, and as such cannot be removed. However, I believe that it will likely fade over time as her own magic rebalances itself during adolescence. But until such a time, other measures must be taken. As it is too dangerous, Ginny cannot be allowed to retain the artifact; should it repair itself or be repaired by outside forces, it would pose a significant danger to both Ginny and all those around her,” Tenet began. “As such, we must prevent the withdrawal effect without letting her keep it. While it would be quite impossible to affect the communication effect, as that is too subtle, we  _ can _ prevent the withdrawal effects.”

“You said I wouldn’t like it?” Ginny asked, a worried tone filling her voice as Ariadne held her hand.

“I’m getting to that,” Tenet replied, taking a deep breath. “Fortunately, the threshold of magical activity will not render this as drastic as it can be for others, but in order to allow Ginny to function without the artifact, her magic must be suppressed.” Ginny gasped and both Arthur and Molly spluttered protest. “I assure you, I would not even suggest it if it were not the only way. Now, fortunately, this will not render her an effective Squib, as I mentioned, the threshold is fortunately high enough, most are not so lucky. It would not be permanent either, as the effect should fade over time. Her magic would be  _ partially _ suppressed. Now, this would make casting spells somewhat difficult for her, but not impossible. The effects would be checked every six months to see if the suppression is still required, and once it is not, it will be released.”

\--

Ariadne mentally eyed the bracelet that now hung on Ginny’s wrist, the tiny chain that glowed a strange purple colour and surrounded Ginny’s magic in that same sheen. She was crying, but she had managed to struggle out a nod that she had wanted it done. After some protesting, her parents had relented and allowed it, and Ginny had promised she’d practice casting spells at home before school. It promised to be a little disruptive with the family’s planned trip to Egypt, but Ariadne thought it might help cheer Ginny up to visit such an interesting place.

“See you next week?” Ginny asked, sniffing, as Ariadne stepped over to the Floo in the Weasley living room. They’d planned to visit for a bit just before they left for Egypt, and Ariadne was secretly planning to have bought her her paints by then - her birthday would be during the trip, so she had to give them early.

“Yeah, Thursday right?” Ariadne said, following Hermione who had taken a pinch of Floo powder.

“Yep! See you Ariadne, Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed.

“See you Ginny!” the sisters replied in unison. “The Dentist’s Chair,” Hermione declared, throwing down the powder and enrapturing Ariadne’s senses in flame and absurdity.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I’m evil. Don’t worry, Ginny isn’t my new punching bag, but this is something I’ve found very interesting in planning - particularly down the line.


	77. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne explains her true past to the Wizarding Wireless Network, and indeed, the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Deadnames, Coming Out, and Transphobia (mentioned), trauma, abuse (mentioned)

“All right, you’ve got everything?” Valerie asked as Ariadne shuffled through her bag and checked each page of notes she’d written the night before, ink all glimmering as the only distinct thing in her magic sense. It hadn’t been a pleasant thing to take notes on, nor was it easy due to the limitations of her memory, but she needed to do it.

“Yep,” Ariadne replied, nervously. She’d also packed a few snacks and a bottle of water, and her hands shook as she zipped the bag up, her fingers lingering on the new phoenix dangling from it.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” her mother said gently, putting a hand on Ariadne’s arm. “You only said you’d address inconsistencies, you only really need to go over what happened with the Dursleys, right?”

“I know. If I can’t go through with it, I won’t,” Ariadne replied shakily. “I want to do this. Who knows, maybe I can help bring the wizarding world into the modern day.”

“Don’t get cocky, ‘Adne,” Valerie chided. “You might be a celebrity to them but that doesn’t mean you can change their world.” Ariadne nodded reluctantly. “If you get in there and don’t feel ready for the whole world to know, don’t tell them.”

“Okay,” Ariadne mumbled, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and positioning her cane in front of her. “L-l-l-l-lllet’s-let’s do this.” She was somehow both resolute and scared as she could ever be as she stepped over the threshold of the front door and felt around for the car door.

It seemed her parents had had Arthur allow the car radio to tune in to the WWN, as it buzzed on once Valerie turned the key and the engine started.

“Next up, it’s  _ This is the Night _ by the Weird Sisters. And at two o’clock, we’ll be speaking with Ariadne Granger for an exclusive interview-” the host said, before Ariadne reached out, feeling for the switch, and changed the frequency to knock it back into non-magical stations.

“We’ll probably get there at 1:30?” Valerie said, noting the queasy look on Ariadne’s face. “You’ll have plenty of time to settle down.” Ariadne nodded. “As long as there’s not too much traffic.”

There was a little more traffic than Valerie had expected, and they arrived at the back entrance to the Diagon Alley location at 1:48, and Ariadne was rushed into a surprisingly well-coated room five minutes later where a magical core sat in what could be a chair, and she was had sat on a chair opposite them as music played quietly from a speaker.

“Ariadne? I’m Timothy Dolton, hosting today. It’s great to meet you,” the person opposite her said, leaning forward. Guessing he might have been offering his hand, she hesitantly held hers out and let him find her, smiling.

“It’s, um, it’s nice to, uh, meet you too,” Ariadne replied nervously. “This room’s pretty magic.”

“Ha, it’s pretty neat, I’ll give you that,” Timothy replied.

“I-I- I meant literally,” Ariadne said, stumbling over her words. “A lot of the time, I can’t sense much. This is magic enough I can tell where the chair is.”

“Oh! That’s pretty cool, Ariadne,” Timothy said. “All right, when we go live, I’ll introduce you, then we can have our chat, yeah?” he told her as the song on the tiny speaker began to come to a close and Ariadne nodded.

“Live in twenty!” someone called from the other side of the room.

“Gotcha, twenty!” the host responded. “All right, there’s a microphone in front of you, try not to lean back too much, otherwise everyone starts complaining.” Ariadne leant forward a little. “There you go.”

“Live in five!” Timothy waited for the last few bits of music to fade, then a second longer.

“That was  _ You Stole My Cauldron, But You Can’t Have My Heart _ , by Celestina Warbeck, one hell of a voice she has on her. But, my guest this afternoon is one lady whose voice you haven’t heard, but you’ve all heard her name. Gryffindor’s incredible blind Seeker, the girl who killed You Know Who at only a year old, Ariadne Granger!” Timothy announced as the song ended, leaning in slightly to his microphone.

“Hi!” Ariadne breathed. “I’m.. I’ve never done this before!”

“That’s all right, you’ll get the hang of it!” Timothy replied. “So, you’ve just finished your second year at Hogwarts, saved the whole place from a  _ terrible  _ monster, exposed the fraud of the decade, and then gone back and taken exams! I mean, that’s not nothing, Ariadne. So what’s  _ that _ like?” he asked, intensely curious.

“Uh… it’s weird!” Ariadne exclaimed. “I’m not some kind of hero, I’m just a kid, but...”

“What, can’t you be both?” Timothy asked, chuckling.

“I’d rather not be,” Ariadne said, smiling. “Hopefully next year will be less… eventful.

“ _ Amen _ , young lady, amen. Now, I must ask,” Tim said, starting the conversation Ariadne knew was coming from their letters. “We know so  _ little  _ about you, about your life. Can we talk about that?” Ariadne resettled herself in the seat, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, I uh, I wanted to actually. In an article a few months ago, Rita.. Rita Skeeter noticed a um, an inconsistency, you could say, in what I told her. I thought I’d address that, if that’s okay?” Ariadne replied, going into what she’d scripted.

“Absolutely! The world’s ears are yours.”

“Okay. So.” Ariadne mentally went back to her script. “For those who didn’t read the article, I initially didn’t exactly give much detail on the uh, the timeline of my life. I implied that I had been adopted by my Mum and Dad almost immediately after the event with You Know Who, however, I implied something quite different in my second discussion with Miss Skeeter. That is because I was… keeping certain details to myself, both to keep myself safe and so as to not… damage the reputations of some of the people involved.” Ariadne began, speaking slowly.

“Don’t you think that would mean correcting their reputations? It’s like with abusive people, surely that’s correcting them?” Timothy asked, curiously. Ariadne was surprised, she didn’t know of many media personalities with such an attitude. She drew back a little.

“P-pp-prof-professor Dumbledore wasn’t the abuser,” she said, realizing as she did how dramatic that sounded. “I’ll start from the beginning, and tell you what I left out.” She returned to her ‘script.’ “After my birth parents were killed, Professor Dumbledore had me taken away, but he didn’t give me to any adoption agency. He felt that the best protection I could have was blood protection, some kind of old magic, but that uh, that wasn’t how it worked.”

“So… so you were with relatives?” Timothy asked. She couldn’t see it, but she could downright hear the confused frown on his face.

“Yes. I was with them until I was six, but they didn’t adopt me out either. Child protective services did.” The host gasped.

“Merlin…”

“I wasn’t born blind. I didn’t go blind naturally either,” Ariadne said. “My cousin, their son… when we were both three, I was doing chores and he thought… he thought um, he thought that it would be funny to spray bleach in my eyes.”

“Bleach, that’s a Muggle cleaning thing, isn’t it?” Tim asked, horrified.

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied, nodding. “Again, for those who don’t know, bleach is a non-magical cleaning product, it’s… not good for people. The outer surface of my retinas and a large amount of the rest of the surface of my eyeballs dissolved. There was a lot of scarring around my eyes for a long time as well, it’s still there if I close my eyes and you look closely at my eyelids.”

“Couldn’t the doctors do anything?”

“Child protective services took me for a reason,” Ariadne replied matter-of-factly. “They didn’t take me to a doctor. Or school. Or anywhere. My cousin had two bedrooms. I had the cupboard under the stairs. They beat me, barely fed me. But sometimes, my uncle didn’t want me in the house, because he had guests. So I tried my best to walk to a park. I didn’t have my cane then, and I definitely didn’t have my charm, so it was hard, but I usually found it. Normally it was dark, but one time, it was still the afternoon. This was back when I could still kinda tell if it was daytime, I can’t anymore.”

“Did something happen that afternoon?”

“I met Hermione,” Ariadne said, smiling. “I tripped on a… a chair’s base, I think it was. Mum and Dad came over, gave me a plaster, and helped me home later.”

“Is she listening right now?” Tim asked, somewhat more cheerful. Ariadne half-laughed.

“Maybe? I think she said she was working on something, but she might be doing both.”

“Rita said you two were good students. So what happened afterward?” Tim chuckled.

“They started noticing things. Bruises, how bad my teeth were-”

“Oh yeah they’re dentists, right?”

“Ha, yeah. That sort of thing. Two people came over the next day, took me away. I didn’t have anything to take with me, just the clothes on my back. I ate a proper meal for the first time at the temporary place they took me. She gave me clothes, music. And then a few days later, Mum and Dad brought Hermione over. Few weeks, and my last name became Granger,” Ariadne said, joyful tears welling at her eyes. “My cousin was also taken away, apparently. People like that don’t stop, they find another target. And after that, the story goes as you know it. Well, save one thing I’ll get to soon.”

“So Hermione saved you, in a way?” Tim asked cheerfully.

“Yeah, she did.” 

“I have a question, if you don’t mind?” Tim asked, his tone significantly less cheerful, more sombre than anything else.

“Yeah, sure,” Ariadne replied.

“You naturally developed your magic vision, right? With this context, that your blindness wasn’t natural, do you have any idea how?” he asked gently. Ariadne nodded.

“Hmm. I don’t know if it’s how it actually happened but… I think it’s because my magic was so devoted to keeping me alive. I mean, I wasn’t eating enough, I was getting attacked. Anything that, looking back, was accidental magic, just got punished. So it figured out how to make it easier to escape; the house was coated in my magic, I could find my cupboard and hide.”

“That’s horrible,” Timothy murmured, leaning forward.

“I’m better now. Mostly,” Ariadne assured him. “I’ll always be a little small, and I still have nightmares about it, but… Mum and Dad have really helped me.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Obviously other than it being personal, obviously that’s a valid answer.”

“Mostly that, but also I didn’t want to make Professor Dumbledore look bad; he did put me in that house, but he  _ was _ just doing what he thought was right.” Despite Ariadne’s own slight animosity toward the man for it, she didn’t think it wise to sic the media on him like she effectively had Lockhart. Lockhart wasn’t her Professor anymore, Dumbledore very much was.

“Right, that makes sense. Nobody go after Professor Dumbledore!” Tim ordered into the microphone as Ariadne laughed. “Now, you said there was another thing that’s different, do you want to talk about that now?” Ariadne took a deep breath as her heart rate doubled. The abuse was in the past. This wasn’t.

“Hhhh.. Okay, yes,” Ariadne exhaled. “I um, I-I-w-w-I-w-I want to… preface this by saying that what I am about to tell you, and everyone listening, is going to get me hurt. I was hurt for it in primary school. I… yeah.”

“Woah, are you sure you want to say it then? You don’t have to,” Tim said, concern immediately filling his voice.

“I do. I do, um. People are gonna find out eventually anyway, and I want to. It’s important to me, and an important part of who I am. But it’s one of those things that some people think is bad. That some people think is weird.” Ariadne thought for a moment, her initial script immediately vacating her mind. “Do you-do you-do you know the origins of mine and Hermione’s names?”

“I don’t actually,” Tim replied. “I assume you’re going somewhere with this?”

“I am, yeah. Hermione is a Greek mythological princess, daughter of King Menelaus and Helen of Troy. Ariadne is also a Greek mythological princess, of Crete, who helped Theseus escape the Labyrinth. Do you notice something about that?” Ariadne asked, carefully, her hands going numb as they lay in her lap.

“They’re both… wait… that’s…”

“Not a coincidence,” Ariadne finished his sentence for him. “Our names match. I  _ chose _ the name Ariadne, with Hermione’s help. My name wasn’t always Ariadne, and Professor Dumbledore didn’t leave a false trail. That was, uh, the  _ actual _ lie to protect me.”

“Wait…” Tim spluttered. “You mean your name  _ was _ Harry?” he asked, as Ariadne’s heart continued its attempts to escape her chest.

“ _ Was _ ,” she replied. “Not-not-not-not-not anymore. I don’t know if magic society has its own name for it, but I am what non-magical people call ‘transgender.’ My name wasn’t always Ariadne. And when I was born, they said I was a boy,” she said. It was done. No going back.

“How do you mean? I’ve never heard that word before, sorry,” Tim asked, carefully.

“Okay. So.  _ Physically _ , I am male. Me, who I am, my mind? I am a girl. I was born and given that other name - which I’d rather you not say, please? It’s… eurgh,” Ariadne explained slowly, shuddering as she remembered her deadname.

“Yeah, sure… so wait, your body is a boy but your mind is a girl?”

“That’s not an…  _ accurate _ explanation, but you’ve got the gist,” Ariadne replied, again slowing down deliberately to stop herself from devolving into a mess of syllables on national radio. “Until I was seven, everyone thought I was a boy. Even I didn’t really understand at the time, before I was adopted, I’d never met other kids. I barely knew what a girl  _ was _ . I am physically male, but I as a person am a girl. Even the Gryffindor dormitory stairs recognize that.” She took another breath, ensuring she didn’t asphyxiate herself. “When I was first rescued, my temporary foster, Rosemary,  _ lovely _ woman, I need-need-need to get back in contact with her sometime, gave me clothes to choose from. I chose them based on texture, and she told me that some of the ones I’d picked were girls’ clothes. She laughed, but let it go, and… they felt…  _ right _ . You know? Like, it was what I was  _ supposed _ to be wearing. I couldn’t keep them after a while, I was a growing kid, but… Hermione let me borrow some of her jumpers sometimes, and I started to realize I was a girl too, it felt right to think of myself like that. I came out to Hermione and she let me try some of her other clothes, and it was our secret for a bit. We chose a new name for me, Ariadne, and then we told our parents.”

“And what did they say? Sorry if I’m a bit quiet, this is all a bit new for me,” Timothy asked.

“They were good. They were nice, made a dress for me. I still have it, but it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

“Oh that’s lovely. But you said you got… hurt?”

“Bullies. I’d been bullied for being little, and for being blind, but this was… worse. Once, I got attacked in a bathroom, accidental magic blew up all the mirrors,” Ariadne recounted.

“Wow… no wonder you didn’t tell anyone. I’m impressed you have just now, thats… that’s really brave. On that note, I believe we have to go to an ad break, but Ariadne Granger will return after the break, and we’ll talk about some more pleasant things, eh?”

\--

> _ ARIADNE GRANGER - BRITAIN’S BEAUTIFUL TRANSGENDER ICON - by Rita Skeeter _
> 
> _ In just this last year, Ariadne Granger has exploded onto our proverbial radar. From her exposure at the Dueling Club, to her defeat of the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets and revelation that Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud, her life this year has been turbulent to say the least. And this is hardly a change of pace for Ariadne. _
> 
> _ Granger took to the Wizarding Wireless Network on Monday to discuss her history of abuse at the hands of her relatives before her rescue by Muggle child protective services and subsequent adoption by her now beloved family, as well as discussing the bombshell revelation that she is, as Muggles have called it, transgender. Yesterday, she, her sister and I sat down over a cup of tea and some biscuits baked by her lovely mother, to talk about it further. _
> 
> _ Transgender is a term used to describe somebody whose physical sex does not match their true gender, how they see themselves as a person. In Ariadne’s case, she is physically male, but she is all girl up in that head of hers. Many transgender individuals experience what is called “dysphoria,” an intensely uncomfortable feeling that their body is not correct. Muggles have found that the best way to treat this “dysphoria” is simply to allow the individual to live as the gender they see themselves as. And for those of you who think that she’s actually a confused boy; even the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory stairs know that despite what’s in her pants, Ariadne Granger is a girl. _
> 
> _ But don’t you worry; she’ll be keeping those good looks. Muggles have developed many ways to allow transgender individual’s bodies to develop along the lines of the stereotypes associated with their gender, should they wish, and Granger says she’s on potions that mimic the Muggle medications - however, she didn’t wish to elaborate, as it is rather private. _
> 
> _ Only time will tell if the young women were right in their contemplations that Wizarding society might be more accepting of such things, or if this is just another way we are often behind the Muggle world. Their perspective on our world, as an important magical figure and her sister but were raised as Muggle, is quite interesting, as there are many ways in which our society lags behind theirs, due to what Hermione calls an “insular nature” brought about by the Statute of Secrecy. _
> 
> _ (cont.d Page 2) _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it is done!


	78. Futures Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After coming out, Ariadne and the Grangers take their well-deserved break, but yet a surprisingly active one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just ‘cos I’m sure folks will worry, I ain’t interested in eviscerating Ariadne with the press; it’s not the kind of angst I enjoy writing. Not to say it’ll be perfect for her, but don’t worry.

“You’re  _ sure _ you don’t want a haircut?” Dennis asked Hermione as the pair came downstairs. 

“No. No haircut,” Hermione replied resolutely as the pair stepped into the living room, where Valerie had been going over some of the other media coverage of Ariadne’s coming-out to her. Most had been pleasant if not overtly positive, but one or two had been bad about it. Her favourite had been the  _ Quibbler _ , which had published a history of other possible historical transgender witches and wizards. She and Hermione hadn’t found anything when they’d looked for such others, but perhaps they’d been looking in the wrong books.

“Not even a trim? Your hair hasn’t been this long since you were eight, it’s all over the bathroom,” Dennis added.

“No. No haircut,” Hermione repeated, sitting down on the sofa.

“All right, but if you change your mind later I don’t imagine it’ll be cheap in that village, what was it called, Hogsmeade?” He and their mother had already signed the permission forms, although they’d warned Ariadne to be cautious in the village given her obvious visibility, especially after the radio broadcast. She wasn’t to be alone, and someone had to be with her. If not Hermione, Ron, or someone she trusted. “If they even have a hairdresser there, that is.”

“It-it’s a big village, they’ve probably got one,” Ariadne piped up. “It’s the only completely magical town in Britain, and it’s been there for centuries.”

“Nearly a thousand years, actually. It was founded somewhere in the 10th or 11th century,” Hermione added. Ariadne nodded at her.

“I could do with a haircut, actually,” Ariadne said, making a point of brushing it off her shoulder. It had simply become entirely unruly, even with SleekEazy.

“All right, might as well. Dennis, do you want to take Ariadne to that art supplies place and to the hairdresser and then I’ll take Hermione?” Ariadne snorted gently at what she knew that was for.

“Hey,” Hermione whined, gently slapping Ariadne on the arm with her backhand as Ariadne laughed.

“Haircut could take a while, you okay waiting?” Dennis asked. “Oh right. Should be right on time then.” Ariadne looked up. She didn’t like when people communicated things nonverbally, particularly when it entailed plans. “Don’t you worry about it, ‘Adne.” Ariadne squinted humorously. What were they up to? “All right, all ready to go?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yep,” Hermione replied, standing. They were heading out for the day to buy some things. When they arrived at the shopping centre, Dennis and Ariadne went to their first stop, an art supplies store, where Ariadne intended to buy paint and canvases for Ginny’s birthday - while Valerie dragged a mortified Hermione off to buy her first training bras. Ariadne had laughed, but she had to admit she was jealous as she poked her own lacking chest. There wasn’t even the dull budding ache Hermione had complained about yet. She had to remind herself that, like Madam Pomfrey had said, she’d be behind Hermione by a ways. After purchasing a small collapsible easel, a set of new brushes and a plastic palette board - not knowing if Ginny had any of them, or if she did what state they were in as probable hand-me-downs - as well as several canvases and a set of acrylic paint tubes, she and her father crossed the road to the hairdresser.

Given the summer heat, Ariadne was glad to have her head no longer surrounded by the wild bushiness that was her hair, and had had it cut a lot shorter - now, it ended around her shoulders, and she tied much of the sides back so they wouldn’t get in her face and tickle her nose. Her hair was also just naturally wavy at that length, and wouldn’t get anywhere near as tangled as it had been when it had reached down to the middle of her back. Strangely enough, it was they who were waiting by the car for Hermione and Valerie, who appeared ten minutes later.

“Oh you look wonderful, dear!” Valerie called, handing something large to Hermione, who immediately put it down. Her mother may have been fussing over her hair, but Ariadne had one burning curiosity.

What was it Hermione was holding?

“That’s much better. All right, let’s get all this in the boot and go home, eh?” Ariadne smiled, nodding and leaning toward whatever it was Hermione was holding. It wasn’t magical, but nothing in the non-magical shopping centre would be. She didn’t even have a vague idea of its shape.

“Now now, you’ll find out what it is soon enough,” Valerie said, guiding her over to the car door. That had only made her more curious, and over the trip home she tried to guess. Nothing she guessed was correct, however, and the curiosity burned away at her. Was it some kind of late birthday gift?

\--

“Hi guys!” Ginny called as she once again let the Granger sisters into the living room of the Burrow. “Woah…” she marvelled as she must have seen the large box the pair were carrying between them.

“Oo! I was right, the box didn’t get burned!” Hermione exclaimed. “Hey Ginny!”

“What’s in the box?” the Twins asked in unison as they descended the stair and Valerie followed through the Floo.

“Th-tha-that… is for Ginny,” Ariadne announced as the room filled up. There was a yelp from upstairs before Ariadne jumped at a crashing noise above them.

“Morning girls!” Molly called, striding into the room. “Oh dear what was that?”

“I’m okay!” she heard Ron call, before his footsteps began shunting through the house and he turned up in her magic vision. “Tripped over my bags, sorry! Hey Ariadne! Hey Hermione!”

“Earth to Ginny,” Fred joked, sidling up beside his little sister.

“That’s for me?!” Ginny finally managed, clearly having not expected something as large.

“Well, you’re going to be in Egypt for your birthday, and this was wayyyyyyyy too heavy for Hermes so…” Ariadne said, shuffling her feet a little and smiling.

“Oh my god- you didn’t have to get me anything!” Ginny breathed, leaning around the box curiously. “What is it?” she asked eagerly.

“Open it!” Ariadne said, starting to move toward where she remembered the table was. Ginny cleared some things out of the way as the sisters deposited the box on the table. Ariadne stepped back and let Ginny pull the flaps of the cardboard box open. Ginny must have leant up on her toes as her core ascended slightly and she looked in.

“Oh my-” Ginny gasped as the sound of her clapping her hands over her mouth reached Ariadne’s ears and she stood back. “No way!” Ariadne grinned.

“Y-y-yy-y-yye-e-yes way,” Ariadne replied, before jumping as Ginny wrapped her in a hug and gasping.

“Oh, sorry, forgot you couldn’t tell I was coming,” Ginny apologized, drawing away. “Seriously, you didn’t have to!”

“Well, we don’t want her going down the rich-kid route, but if she wants to spend a bit of her inheritance on her friends, I’m not going to stop her,” Valerie replied. “You enjoy those, yeah? I’ve just got to go attend to something with your father, do you two mind Flooing yourselves home?”

“I’ll handle it,” Hermione replied.

“Cool. I’ll see you two later, have fun!” Valerie said, stepping back into the fireplace and taking a pinch from the pot. “The Dentist’s Chair.” With that, she vanished in a plume of magical fire as Ginny eagerly pulled what was probably the easel out of the box, the purple suppression bracelet on her wrist vanishing into the box and back out again.

“I am  _ so _ going to paint something in Egypt!” Ginny cried as she put the folded easel down on and rummaged through what was still in the box. “Oh you didn’t have to!” she exclaimed, jumping back into another hug with Ariadne.

“Oof! It’s okay, I- I wanted to,” Ariadne told her. Ginny suddenly pulled back, but still keeping her hands on Ariadne’s upper arms.

“Oh my god, I almost forgot! You came out! That’s amazing, well done!” Ginny exclaimed. Ariadne too had almost forgotten in the moment, and almost forgotten the entire Weasley family surrounding them. She exhaled, smiling.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Yeah, we were listening to your interview. If we ever meet your relatives, we’ll bloody well kill them,” Fred said.

“Now now, what they did was abominable but no death threats please,” Molly said. “Telling everyone that, that was very brave of you, Ariadne, very brave. Not just about your relatives, but about you as well. I’m not going to pretend I understand it fully, but… you’re an incredibly brave young woman, and that’s all I need to know.”

“Thanks Mrs. Weasley,” Ariadne replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys in person, I was going to but then Ginny’s stuff happened and I didn’t think it w-w-w-was appropriate.”

“Oh that’s fine, don’t you worry yourself over it. I’ll get you kids something to eat,” Molly assured her, bustling over to the pantry as Ginny excitedly unpacked her new art supplies from the cardboard box they’d put them in.

\--

“ _ Lumos _ !” Ginny pushed, holding her wand in front of her tightly enough it shook in Ariadne’s magic sense. They were sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor as Ron and Hermione played chess in the hallway. “Ugh.  _ Lumos! _ ” she growled.

“Check!” Hermione exclaimed. Ron snorted.

“Knight to B6,” he said, and the piece behind Ariadne moved to take the offending piece as Hermione groaned and leant forward, thinking.

“ _ Lumos! _ ” Ginny tried again. “ **_Lumos!!_ ** ” Her magic flared behind the strange purple sheen covering her magic, and her wand glowed a bit, the tiniest pinprick of magic forming at the end of the wand for but a split second. Ariadne jumped forward as Ginny slumped. “I’m  _ never _ going to get this!” she wailed, sniffing.

“Huh?” Ariadne spluttered, confused as Ginny started crying.

“I can’t do it anymore! It was so easy before and now I can’t!” the girl sobbed, collapsing on herself.

“It was working though!” Ariadne exclaimed, trying to find her shoulder to hold and eventually finding her forearm.

“No it wasn’t!” Ginny cried. “It’s  _ not working _ .”

“I-I-I-I-I-I can-I can-I can see the magic working! I think I can see it better is all, you got it that last time!” Ariadne assured her, shaking her arm.

“What?” Ginny asked, sniffing as her magical core raised slightly. “You mean I-”

“It worked, there was a little blob of magic there! But I think I can sense magic more than you can see the light, so you just couldn’t see it yet.” Ariadne shuffled around to find a more comfortable position. “You can do it Ginny. If you keep practicing over the trip, I bet you’ll be able to see it by the time you get back!”

“Really? You think so?” Ginny seemed to straighten back up again.

“Yeah. Hey um, do you want to keep going, or do you want to see what your mum’s cooking?” Ariadne asked, the scent of whatever it was wafting into the doorway. Ginny sniffed at it.

“Yeah, I’m hungry. This is really exhausting,” Ginny said, standing up and helping Ariadne up. “Who’s winning?” Ginny asked as they stood in the doorway.

“Um…” Hermione started. “Well, I’ve got fewer pieces on the board.”

“ _ But _ she does have me on the defensive for now. Anyone’s game,” Ron replied. “When did you get good at chess, Ariadne said she beat you the first time she ever played?” He asked.

“I’ve been reading,” Hermione replied smugly. “I’m good at that.”

“I can see that,” Ron said. “Knight to A3.”

\--

“There you are, right on time as always!” Valerie said from the couch as the girls stepped out of the fireplace. “Excellent timing, Hermione, we just finished with it a few minutes ago.”

“Finished what?” Ariadne asked, bewildered as Hermione clapped and jumped on the spot.

“I’ll go get it!” Hermione cried, running off up the stairs.

“It’s down here!” Valerie called back to her, and Hermione popped back into Ariadne’s sense again after a few seconds. Dennis leaned down behind the couch and pulled something up, before Ariadne heard the weight of it crush down on the cushions.

“Ariadne, if you want to figure that out now?” Dennis said happily. “You were wanting to touch it and work it all out yesterday, now’s your chance.” Ariadne floundered on the spot for a moment before she probed her way toward the sofa, stopping as she felt its side and kneeling, feeling her hands out for it.

Her fingers met a… slightly soft plastic surface, bevelled on top and bottom with what felt like a metal rim running around its centre. She ran her finger along the band and found it got further away from her to her right, and her hand met something.

A clasp. Tilting her head curiously, she undid it and tugged at the top half. Nothing happened. She felt around for another, and undid that one. With that, she felt the lid go loose, and she pulled it up.

Greeting her magic vision were six pink strands, perfectly parallel for most of the length of the container, disappearing at both ends, and at the end where it had gotten skinny, the strands separated into 3 pins on either side. Ariadne frowned, feeling near the separation point, and found a straight, wooden semicircular bar, with the wires on its flat side.

Her hand brushed the frets as she pulled the instrument from its case, running her hand down it and feeling its eventual curved shape, holding it up.

“A guitar?” Ariadne asked, gently sitting down with it and hoisting the body onto her lap, an amazed smile filling her face.

“Ding ding ding!” Valerie said. “Bingo. The strings we got from Diagon today, enchanted to always stay tuned.” Ariadne ran her fingers down them, bringing about the sound of music in the living room. “There’s also a ringbinder in there, you’ll be able to read it once you get to school again; Hermione found sheet music for a lot of your favourite songs and printed them out for you. This was her idea.” Ariadne smiled even wider and carefully put it back in its case. She stood and held out her arms, and Hermione eagerly took the hug.

“Thanks, Hermione,” she whispered. “I love it.”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione replied. “You always said you wanted to learn, so here you go. Call it a late birthday present.” Hermione released Ariadne, and sat down beside her. Ariadne took the guitar back out, and tried to remember what little she’d been taught in their primary school. She didn’t remember which notes, but she did remember a few of which fingers it was.

_ Twink-le-twink-le… lit-tle… star...  _

\--

“Good afternoon Professor McGonagall!” Hermione exclaimed as she pulled open the door, while Ariadne stepped between the hall and the living room.

“And you, Hermione, good afternoon. And Ariadne as well, it’s very nice to see you two again. May I come in?” Professor McGonagall asked in the doorway, her familiar magic standing above Hermione’s. Hermione’s magic bobbed a bit.

“Mhmm! Come in, come in!” Hermione replied, turning and leading her in. “Mum! Professor McGonagall’s here!” she called.

“Good afternoon Ariadne,” McGonagall said warmly. “I see you’ve had a haircut, it looks lovely. And congratulations on your radio discussion, I was listening and was pleasantly surprised to hear you open up like that. Well done.”

“Thanks, Professor McGonagall,” Ariadne replied, smiling as her mother shuffled down the stairs quickly.

“Minerva! It’s a pleasure to see you again, would you like some tea?”

“Oh, why not? Plenty of milk, if you don’t mind,” McGonagall replied, at which Hermione chuckled. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

“Cat,” Hermione replied simply. McGonagall laughed as well, as she followed into the living room.

“You’re not wrong, Hermione,” she said as she sat down on the sofa.

“So, you said you needed to discuss their class choices?” Valerie asked, returning with tea which McGonagall gratefully took. “Something about time that sounded pretty cryptic to me.”

“Yes. Now, your daughters have shown some rather exceptional motivation to take as many classes as they physically can, however, that has extended into what they physically can’t. I’m sure you know better than I that once these two want to learn, there’s no stopping them, yes?” Ariadne blushed as Valerie laughed.

“That’s damn true. When we met Ariadne, Hermione was reading a math textbook for kids three years her senior, and Ariadne picked that up from her,” Valerie said.

“That explains a lot,” McGonagall said. “Now, Hermione and Ariadne have expressed that they would like to take  _ all five _ of the elective subjects for their third year; Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Muggle Studies, and Study of Ancient Runes. There are only two slots in the timetable for such,  _ but _ . There is in fact a precedent for this, and I have acquired approval to offer the method which would allow them to do it.” Ariadne heard McGonagall get something out. Two words in glimmering magical ink stood out to her.

“Temporal mechanics? Like time travel?” Valerie asked quizzically.

“Indeed. The girls would each use a device called a Time Turner, which would allow them to travel back in time a number of hours after taking one set of classes, before going back to the start of the day, or to the start of another class, and taking the second. The request has been approved, should you two still wish to take it, and of course if your mother allows it?” McGonagall explained.

“Would it be dangerous?” their mother asked.

“There is of course danger to any temporal manipulations, but the booklet I have here goes over best practice to avoid timeline intersections and paradoxes, as well as the relevant Wizarding law. Any danger would arise from misuse of the Time Turner and failure to adhere to the regulations put forth, and I trust that Hermione and Ariadne here would be safe. Approval would not have been granted for me to even offer it if I wasn’t sure they could be trusted,” McGonagall replied. “Time Turner use would most likely be necessary most days of the week, including Saturdays if they wish to attend their Music class and make full use of their Hogsmeade visit time at once. Ariadne especially, as she has signed on for the spellmaking workshop as well.” Ariadne nodded.

“Somehow that all sounds like science fiction,” Valerie laughed. “You two want to do it?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Hermione replied. “It’s such an opportunity to learn!”

“And the time travel itself might be interesting, we could try running some experiments using it,” Ariadne added, excitably.

“If you’re going to do  _ that _ , you’ll need to run it by me first and at every stage of your research, but I’m sure we can work something out,” McGonagall told them hurriedly.

“In that case then, I’m happy for them to go ahead with it,” Valerie said, at which Ariadne smiled. “Let them bend the very world to learn, I know they’d like nothing more.”

“Excellent. In that case,” McGonagall said, standing. “I will visit you shortly before term begins to give you the Time Turners. I expect you both to study the Temporal Mechanics booklet, it is written in magical ink so that Ariadne can read it as well.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Hermione’s haircut in Prisoner of Azkaban, that’s what Ariadne has now. My Hermione however doesn’t want a haircut.


	79. Prison Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is intrigued by the newest story to break the Wizarding media as the family visits the Weasleys on their way to Diagon Alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really looking forward to writing this year, some stuff really gets interesting :)

It had been three weeks since Ariadne had come out and the Weasleys had departed for Egypt. It was only a week before term began once more at Hogwarts, the Weasleys were due to return that day and stay at the Leaky Cauldron for convenience, and Ariadne had spent her time largely practicing with her guitar, and reading the  _ Temporal Mechanics _ guidebook over and over to the point she could probably recite it in her sleep. It mostly boiled down to ‘try not to cross paths with yourself or anything that has to have happened for your past.’ Paradox avoidance. Generally, time was malleable enough that minor adjustments would simply work, but one had to be careful or catastrophe would fall. Ariadne - and the law - decided it would be best to err on the side of caution.

On top of that, she’d been drawing up designs for something that would come in very handy that year, based on some correspondence with Professor McGonagall. It was a strange thing for her, to attempt to draw something; she was used to an entirely spherical view of the world, with the rules of perspective being a little different for her. However, she soon got used to it, but the designs were rough and she threw away attempts more often than kept them after messing up. The fountain pen didn’t quite lend itself to drawing either, it was more designed for cursive. Ariadne wasn’t sure how much the commissions would cost once she was done, but she expected they’d have to dip into her vault for them.

“Ariadne!” her dad called from the lounge as she finished up a sketch. “It’s two o’clock, you ready to go?” With a jolt, she had ironically forgotten the time.

“Coming!” she called back, frantically blowing on the ink, praying it would dry and not ruin the other sheets in her bag and folded them in, as well as the other labelled documentation and her Hogwarts supplies list, before throwing on her cloak and feeling her way out into the living room. “Okay, I’m ready to go!”

“Are we going to Diagon Alley or straight to the Leaky Cauldron?” Hermione asked, standing near the pot of Floo powder as Ariadne probed into the room.

“We’ll go to the Leaky Cauldron first I think, and then once we’ve said hi to the Weasleys we go through Diagon? And I think McGonagall said she’d meet us here at six, so let’s keep on time,” Valerie replied. “Heh, on time.” She stepped by Hermione, picking out a handful of Floo powder. “The Leaky Cauldron!” Valerie vanished, with a roar of fire. Hermione reached over to take Ariadne’s hand as usual and the pair followed, pulled through the corridor of madness that was how Ariadne’s magic sense interpreted the Floo Network before stumbling out of the new fireplace and into the somewhat well-coated entrance area to the Leaky Cauldron. Dennis soon followed, and the group stepped out into the main room.

Ariadne was… apprehensive. She had no idea how the day would go, and ever since she’d first been revealed as the Girl Who Lived, she’d avoided Diagon Alley. She’d worn a cloak with a hood at least, so she could try to go unseen.

“Ariadne!” Ron exclaimed, jumping into Ariadne’s magic vision from behind something ahead of her. “Hermione!”

“Ron!” Ariadne called back, awkwardly probing toward him and holding an arm out, as Hermione stopped beside a green panel of magic on the wall. As Ron half-hugged her, she stopped, frowning. There were more of them around the room, all of the same size and colour.

“What is it, Hermione?” Ariadne asked, curiously.

“It’s a wanted poster. ‘Have you seen this wizard? Approach with extreme caution. Do not attempt to use magic against this man.’ Doesn’t say his name though,” Hermione replied. “Ron?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Ron exclaimed. “He’s Sirius Black, he escaped from Azkaban just the other week!” The boy shuffled over to the table quickly, returning with what sounded like a piece of parchment. “ _ Aurum  _ ink,” he said, drawing his wand as Ariadne jumped for a moment.

“Oh,” she groaned, realizing. “We’re allowed to do magic here, I didn’t bring my wand.”

“I’ll do it for you, it takes a minute to fade, right?” Hermione said, pulling her wand out of her bag.

“Yeah, one minute,” Ariadne replied. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right, I’ll try to keep it on for you.  _ Aurum Radia _ .” With that, the room was revealed to her - along the other side of the room were a number of square pillars helping to support the second level, and on the side they’d arrived through was the bar to their left. Further to their left was the staircase and fireplace, and the centre of the room was dominated by a long table. There were others in the room as well, and Ron too seemed to have had a haircut which was now ever so slightly asymmetrically parted. An enchanted kettle hovered above the table, as one of the newly revealed witches held out a mug and had it refilled.

Ariadne also for the first time ‘saw’ the phoenix which now adorned her bag - it had been partially occluded from the spell by her own arm, but she could sense the gently intricate design of its wings and tail feathers curving around.

But what was most important was the article Ron was sharing, as she struggled to read it upside down before the boy tilted it. It was titled  _ BLACK STILL AT LARGE _ , and identified the man on the Wanted posters.

> _ Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today. _

“Maybe we shouldn’t have stopped reading the papers,” Ariadne mumbled as she read. Perhaps this might at least draw attention away from her.

> _ “We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.” Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Confederation of Wizards for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis. “Well, really, I had to, don’t you know?” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black’s true identity to anyone. _

Ariadne tapped Ron on the shoulder, and he recast the Blindsight Charm on the words on the page as they began to fade.

> _ And let’s face it - who’d believe him if he did?” While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse _ .

Hermione, as well as Ariadne to a degree, chuckled in unison as they read.

“What is it?” Ron asked. “What’s so funny?”

“You know what a gun is, right?” Hermione asked, before bursting out laughing as Ron pulled the article back.

“It’s a kind of metal wand that muggles use to kill each other, it says it right there!” Ariadne wheezed as Ron put the article down.

“Muggle Studies’ll be easy,” Ariadne said under her breath. “How was Egypt?” she asked eagerly, moving over to a chair and sitting down. Ron sat down beside her, Hermione close behind sitting opposite them.

“It’s brilliant!” Ron replied, pulling something flat with a magical rectangle - another newspaper - over. “Loads of old stuff, like mummies, tombs. Even Scabbers enjoyed himself, he’s back in his cage now though. We got a photo in the paper as well, ‘cos the lottery prize paid for it.”

“I see Ginny’s making good use of that easel,” Hermione said, pulling the paper over.

“Huh?” Ariadne asked, unable to sense it.

“She’s got it under her arm in the photo-” Hermione was interrupted by the arrival of the twins, Percy, Molly and Ginny behind them.

“Not flashing that clipping about  _ again _ are you Ron?” George taunted, leaning past with Fred in tow, as Percy went past behind Hermione, who Ginny sat down beside, the purple glimmer of the bracelet marking her arms as being on the table - she hadn’t been caught by Hermione’s latest Blindsight Charm.

“I haven’t showed anyone!” Ron protested, causing Ginny to burst out laughing as she tried to say hello to Hermione.

“No, not a soul!” Fred said, sarcastically. “Not unless you count Tom,” he corrected himself, as he came past Ariadne and quickly batted Ariadne’s shoulders like a drumset.

“The day maid,” George listed.

“The night maid.”

“Cook.”

“That bloke who came and fixed the toilet.”

“And that wizard from Belgium!” George finished the list.

“Ah! Girls!” Molly called, bustling over and patting Ariadne on the shoulders. It seemed that was where the twins had picked it up from. “Good to see you dears!”

“Mrs. Weasley!” Ariadne exclaimed, standing and being pulled into a hug by the pleasant woman. “Good to sense you too!”

“Sense, right, of course! Oh you’re looking wonderful today,” Molly said as she released Ariadne. “Ginny dear, you  _ must _ show Hermione your paintings, they’re wonderful.” Ariadne gasped, turning back to her.

“You painted?” she asked simply, a smile burning across her face.

“Yeah! They’re not  _ that _ good,” Ginny replied. “Sorry you won’t be able to see them.” Ariadne thought for a second, cocking her head.

“I might be able to sense the texture? And  _ maybe _ the brush direction might let me see the shapes if I can!” Ariadne replied.

“Huh, maybe!” Ginny said, getting up. “They’re in my room, I’ll show you!” Hermione and Ariadne stood up, as Arthur followed Molly to where she had been standing, Molly having gone to greet the Granger parents.

“Ariadne! Wonder if I might have a word, just quickly?” he asked. Ariadne turned her head to face Ginny and Hermione, doing her best to visually communicate the extension of the question.

“Um.. Go ahead, we can wait,” Hermione said after pausing hesitantly. Arthur backed away past the columns, and Ariadne felt around behind them for anything on the floor.

“Looking forward to a new term?” Arthur asked as she followed her.

“Yes, it should be fun. No more monsters, I hope,” she replied, smiling wryly. Arthur stopped behind the furthest column, chuckling slightly at that.

“Ariadne, there are some within the Ministry who would strongly discourage me from divulging what I’m about to reveal to you,” he whispered solemnly, gently taking her shoulder and prompting her to probe her way forward, with him at her back. She carefully avoided what might have been a table as he started talking again. “But I think you need to know the facts. You are in danger. Grave danger,” he told her, positioning himself between her and the main room’s table.

“Has this got something to do with him, with Sirius Black, Mister Weasley?” Ariadne asked, raising her arm to indicate the magical panel that was another poster beside them. The man turned hurriedly, before turning back to her.

“What do you know about Sirius Black, Ariadne?” he asked. Ariadne thought for a moment. The name  _ had _ sounded familiar.

“The name I think I’ve heard before, but I don’t remember where. He’s escaped from Azkaban, hasn’t he?” she replied.

“He has. Do you know why?”

“It’s Azkaban?” Ariadne replied, smiling.

“Hmph, well, you’re not wrong Ariadne. But. Thirteen years ago, when you stopped…” Arthur said, trailing off slightly.

“Voldemort?” Ariadne offered.

“ _ Don’t _ say his name,” Arthur replied, jumping. Ariadne drew back slightly, her ears throbbing a little.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“When you stopped… You Know Who,” Arthur continued, prompting her to continue down the aisle by taking her shoulder again, which she did. “Black lost everything. But to this day, he still remains a faithful servant. And in his mind, you are the only thing that stands in the way of You Know Who returning to power,” he explained. Just as Ariadne had settled into position where she was, he had her move again, into an area she could tell from the magical paintings was a lot thinner. “And  _ that _ ,” Arthur said, uncomfortably close to her. “Is why he has escaped from Azkaban.” Ariadne frowned. “To find you.”

“To kill me?” Ariadne added, as Arthur let go of her shoulders and the air between them was silent for an uncomfortably long time.

“Ariadne, I want you to swear to me that whatever you might hear, you won’t go searching for Black.” Ariadne frowned even deeper.

“Ob-ob-ob-obvious-ly, he’s a madman Death Eater,” Ariadne scoffed. “I wasn’t gong-a to go to Hogsmeade alone anyway.” Her frown couldn’t get any deeper as she slurred a few words together, but her brow tensed. “Why would I go searching for a madman Death Eater who wants to kill me, Mister Weasley?” she asked. Arthur didn’t respond immediately.

“Well, er, you did go after that Basilisk. Which,  _ did _ save dear Ginny, but at significant risk.” Ariadne exhaled.

“Fair. I won’t go looking for him, I promise,” Ariadne replied, internally rolling her eyes at the Basilisk point.

“Good, good. Off you pop then, I think you said you might be able to sense the textures of Ginny’s paintings? That’s fascinating, have fun,” Arthur said, patting her shoulder from the side. Ariadne smiled at him as she turned to the side.

“Thank you, Mister Weasley,” she said, before rejoining Hermione and Ginny by the stairs, Hermione having cast the Blindsight charm for her as she approached.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked.

“Sirius Black, apparently he was a Death Eater so I should be careful,” Ariadne replied. “Paintings?”

“Paintings,” Ginny said, starting up the stairs. The angle had been a bit odd on the charm from Hermione, as she’d been trying to cast it on the area where Ariadne was walking toward them, but it was sufficient to traverse the stairs with a welcome ease.

“Ariadne! Would you like me to go home and grab your wand for you while you’re up there?” Dennis called from the downstairs level.

“Yes please!” Ariande replied. “Thanks Dad!” she called as Dennis vanished into the fireplace. Ginny eagerly led the pair to one of the rooms in the rickety and lopsided Leaky Cauldron wing, ushering them in. Hermione revealed the room to her, and it was fairly simple if much larger than Ginny’s bedroom had been. When Ariadne had been staying with her, Ginny’s room had barely been large enough for both beds, this was substantially more spacious. Without even sensing it through magic she knew it was dusty, but enough of the dust had caught the charm that there were spots missing in her vision, the magic pooling on the floor and hovering in midair. It had its own fireplace, which wasn’t lit as far as Ariadne could tell by sound, a dresser between two outset windows, and a large four-poster bed standing with its head against the far wall. Also standing against the wall was a canvas leant on the ground, as well as the easel with another canvas mounted on it, with her bags beside the easel.

“I got my own room, the boys had to share. What do you think?” Ginny asked, jogging over to the easel excitedly, her hair waving behind her.

“Wow! That’s really good, Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, strolling over to the paintings beside the younger girl. “Can you sense the textures, Ariadne?” Ariadne shook her head.

“The bed was in the way,” she replied. “Shadows.”

“Oh! Sorry.  _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Hermione cast, covering the canvases in light. Ariadne leant close, and found with glee that she could in fact sense the different bumps of paint, but alas, not enough to ‘see’ the painting. Ariadne slumped a little and shook her head.

“No, sorry. I can tell there are bumps, but it doesn’t let me see the painting. What is it?”

“It’s the Pyramids!” Ginny said excitedly.

“She’s actually done a very good job,” Hermione added. “The Pyramids are in the centre, with the desert between them and - I think that’s Ron? - on the right in the foreground. Above Ron, in the top-right is the sun,” she explained. “You’ve done a great job on the shadows, they look really good!”

“I have an idea,” Ginny said. “Cast the spell on the yellow paint,” she said, pointing at the painting. Hermione flicked her wand at the painting, revealing the silhouette of the Pyramids as the room vanished from her sense, as well as the painted circular sun in the corner and the desert beneath.

“Ooo…” Ariadne said under her breath, leaning forward again. “I can’t see any detail, but it looks good from what I can see!”

“Thanks! Thank you both,” Ginny said happily. “Oh! And! ‘Adne!” she exclaimed, pulling out her wand. “ **_Lumos!_ ** ” she almost shouted, thrusting her wand out as her magic flared sharply and a ball of magic formed at the end of it, far brighter than the last time Ariadne had seen it. Hermione gasped as Ariadne beamed at her.

“Oh my god, well done Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed. After a few seconds, the charm vanished, as Ginny smiled.

“That’s amazing, congratulations!” Ariadne cried, letting Ginny hug her.

“I practiced every night, just got it last week,” Ginny said proudly, as she detached from Ariadne and the sound of footsteps approached in the hall. The gold-flecked core of one of the Granger parents peeked in.

“‘Adne, got your wand. Oh, well done Ginny! Those are really good!” Dennis said, stepping in.

“Thank you, Mister Granger!” Ginny replied gladly.

“I’m sorry, we’d better get moving, don’t want to be late for Minerva. See you Ginny!” Dennis told them, handing Ariadne’s wand to her as they hurriedly said goodbye and descended back into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, where Valerie was waiting with bags.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I had intended to merge this chapter with the next because I thought it wouldn’t be long enough but turns out just one part of what this chapter was going to be ended up 3000 words.


	80. Monstrosities, Cats and Watches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is glad to not draw too much attention as the Grangers go about their pre-term shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I REALLY underestimated how long these things would be.

Ariadne pulled up her hood as she stepped out from the brick archway door, which restricted her ‘vision’ to a range more akin to that of her sighted compatriots. She didn’t like that at all, but if it meant fewer people would recognize her, she would take it, as she held her wand in her sleeve to cast the Blindsight Charm as they walked.

“All right, where’s that gigantic list of books?” Dennis asked, rifling his hands through his pockets as they approached Flourish and Blott’s.

“Here,” Hermione said simply, holding out the piece of paper she’d fetched from her own pocket and unfolding it. Dennis took it and exhaled.

“Five elective subjects, boy that’s a long list. All right, so we need…  _ History of Magic, Thirteenth to Fifteenth Century _ ,  _ Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles _ , wow, that’s a weird title to read as a Muggle,  _ Intermediate Transfiguration _ ,  _ Numerology and Grammatica _ ,  _ Potente Potions, Fourth Edition _ , _ Spellman’s Syllabary _ ,  _ The Applications of Many a Vegetable _ ,  _ The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts _ ,  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ , and  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 _ . That’s… gonna be expensive,” he read out.

“And Ariadne’ll need her own copies,” Valerie reminded him.

“Oh yeah, you will won’t you? Good spell that one, remind me to thank Professor Flitwick if I ever meet him,” Dennis replied as Ariadne smiled. “Although our wallets won’t be thanking him,” he chuckled as they stepped into the shop and Ariadne recast the Blindsight Charm. Ariadne took in the gigantic piles of books with a sense of awe as she could tell each cover from the one atop it, each hand-shaped sign - unfortunately not what was written upon them - and every railing of the staircase and upper level. She pulled her hood down, knowing her father would probably disapprove, and if anything the interior was warmer than the summery outside and she was already starting to sweat. Oddly, behind the counter, she immediately noticed something she’d been able to perceive without the charm.

Now revealed in more detail, was what looked like a large cage, rattling with the gentle movements of a number of yellow and blue slabs within it, but that simply could not have been books. The group moved up to the counter, and Hermione’s magic shuddered slightly as they approached it.

“Er… what are those?” Hermione asked, pointing. “And why do they have tentacles... and  _ teeth _ ?”

“Those, my dear, would be the  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ ,” the woman at the counter replied. “Bloody nightmares if you ask me, might be worse than the  _ Invisible Book of Invisibility _ .”

“Why, what was wrong with that one?” Valerie asked. “Oh, hang on.”

“No idea where any of them went. So much wasted stock. Anyway, how can I-” the clerk said, before a stammering Ariadne piped up.

“I-I-I-I-I-I could help-help-help with that,” she said. “Invisibility doesn’t work on me.”

“Of course, you must be the Grangers. I’ll keep that mind, young lady, in case we’re ever looking for them,” the clerk replied. “How can I help you all, Hogwarts lists I’m sure?”

“Yep,” Dennis replied, putting the list down.

“All right, what have we… that’s… all of them? Are you sure this is correct?” The clerk asked, looking back up and frowning as Ariadne recast her charm.

“Yes, we’re sure,” Valerie replied.

“O...kay then, let me just fetch these for you, just a moment.” With that, the clerk began retrieving books and stacking them on the table. Ariadne however, immediately noticed a problem as she spluttered slightly, not knowing if she should speak up.

“Oh, uh, we need two of each,” Dennis said as she put the fifth book down.

“Both?” Ariadne slid her wand out of her sleeve.

“Spell, lets me see them,” Ariadne explained as the realization filled the clerk’s face.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll just get those for you, sorry,” the woman said apologetically, ducking back behind the shelves and putting a second stack on the counter. Finally, when Ariadne knew there was only one of each of their ten books remaining, she prepared to reach into the cage. As soon as she reached her hands in, each  _ Monster Book for Monster _ reacted violently, shuddering and growling - one of them bounced around and the clerk flinched back, as Hermione jumped and stepped back. “Oh Merlin, one of them got out of their… okay, give me a second here.” The clerk reached down under the desk and pulled on what must have been gloves as Hermione stood behind their parents. Taking a deep breath, the woman plunged her hands into the cage and wrestled the offending tome into the air and began stroking its spine. Miraculously, the previously vicious book settled down, and the clerk hurriedly redid the clasp at its top and put it back in the cage. “That one’s feisty, I think I’ll grab you some nicer ones eh? Good book, good books...” she laughed, slowly pulling a pair from the cage and setting them down gently.

“I um, I don’t know if I’ll be able to read that one,” Ariadne said nervously.

“How come?” Valerie asked. “Won’t the spell work on it?”

“It depends on the pages, if they’re magic too.” Ariadne explained. “It’s sometimes really hard to read if the page is magical too, it’s why I put-put crosses on parchment to mark the edges instead of just using enchanted paper.”

“Janelle, would you mind if we tested that? Checked that Ariadne’s spell will work on the book, that is?” her mother asked, pointing to the  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ .

“Oh, sure, go ahead,” Janelle replied, pulling the book to herself and putting a hand to the spine. “Oh, and if you’re going to open it, remember to stroke the spine. Otherwise it’ll try to bite you,” she warned them, holding up her gloved hands before doing exactly that and stroking the book’s spine carefully. The book gurgled happily and relaxed, before she unclasped it and opened it to a page. “Go ahead.” Ariadne pointed her wand to it.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” she said, as a brief flash of magic ran through the book.

It did not have the desired effect, as the book growled and began rabidly bouncing around on the table. Ariadne screamed as it leapt off the table toward her and Hermione scrambled to get her wand back out of her bag. Janelle already had it under control as she swore, leaping over the desk and landing directly on top of the monstrosity, which groaned pathetically as it collapsed under the clerk.

“All right then. I suppose that’s a no?” Janelle replied, wrestling the clasp closed again and tossing it back onto the desk as it growled. Ariadne breathlessly shook her head. “All right, that one can go back with its buddies,” she said, dropping it back into the cage. “You happy now, bastard-book? Yeesh. Sorry about that!”

“It’s fine,” Ariadne replied, catching her breath. “Okay if I ask you to read it to me, Hermione?” she asked. Hermione tapped her own leg once.  _ Yes. _ Ariadne nodded. “Thanks.”

\--

After paying a considerable amount of money for the nineteen textbooks and cramming them into the bags Valerie had brought, they set course for their next stop: Magical Menagerie, where they had once bought Hermes. Hermione had long wanted her own pet, and their parents had finally agreed to it, depending on what Hermione chose. Nothing dangerous, and nothing too hard to keep happy, was the rule, and Hermione had apparently brought her copy of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them _ to run any magical animals by them if necessary. However, something in the base acceptable Hogwarts list was preferable; an owl, cat or toad. They already had Hermes, and Hermione hated toads for their texture, so that left one option.

The menagerie was even stranger with the Blindsight Charm, with spacious cages sprawling through the space and the outlines of owls, bats and various other animals taking shape around her instead of being invisible or vague magical blobs. A person whose form had been partially obscured by cages, and as such looked extraordinarily strange to Ariadne, stepped over as the bell rang.

“Hello, oh boy, Ariadne Granger and family, okay! I’m Cecil, how can I help you?” Ariadne blushed as the man recognized her.

“Afternoon Cecil, I’m Valerie, their mum. Little Hermione here is looking for a cat, if you can help us find her the perfect little fuzzball,” their mother said warmly, shaking Cecil’s hand.

“Of course! This way, this way,” Cecil said eagerly, leading them to the left of the door and to an area of larger enclosures. “All right, here they are! Here we have Tiberius, lovely maine coon boy,” Cecil pointed to what must have been a wall-mounted glass enclosure, as Ariadne couldn’t see through it. “Beside him here, we have Puck and his sister Pluck, both shorthairs as you can see.” Hermione stood extremely close to the glass, crooning over the cats. Cecil skipped one, and kept talking “Here we have Belinda, your basic tabby-”

“What about this one?” Hermione asked, fixating on the enclosure Cecil had skipped. Ariadne had assumed it was empty.

“Huh? Oh,” Cecil spluttered, a surprised and endearing tone in his voice. “That’s Crookshanks. No-one’s ever asked about him before, I’m surprised.”

“Why not?” asked a forlorn Hermione. “He’s so cute.”

“People don’t tend to want the Himalayan-Kneazle cross, I’m afraid,” Cecil sighed. “Most either want an ordinary cat or a full-blooded Kneazle. Crookshanks here has been with us for a couple of years now, poor boy.” Hermione’s hand touched the glass as she looked up at Cecil. Ariadne was behind her, but she could feel the pleading look on her sister’s face. “You want to say hi to him?” Hermione nodded eagerly. “All right then,” Cecil said, ushering Hermione aside and opening the glass to reveal the vague magical core of Crookshanks - Ariadne recast the Blindsight Charm early, since it was due to fade soon anyway. Crookshanks was a  _ very _ fluffy cat, with a relatively flat face and oddly curved legs - bow-legged. “Come here bub,” Cecil said gently, picking up the cat and holding him. Hermione leant toward the cat, who meowed indignantly at being removed from his place.

Hermione didn’t say anything but she was immediately mimicking his meowing and happily flapping her right hand. Her left, she slowly raised toward the cat.

“You wanna pet him? Go ahead.” Cecil leaned down a ways to let Hermione reach properly, and Hermione gasped as she touched his head and scratched between his ears. Crookshanks was purring louder than Ariadne knew cats could purr. “Oh he likes  _ you _ ,” Cecil marvelled as Hermione began using both hands to pet the cat. It seemed that unlike toads, Hermione  _ really _ liked the texture of this cat’s fur. “Wanna hold him?”

“Um, I don’t er, I don’t…” Hermione spluttered apologetically.

“You don’t know how?” Cecil asked. Hermione shook her head. “Not to worry,” he said, leaning back and putting Crookshanks back in his spot. “You stay there a second, Crookshanks. He’s part Kneazle, so he’s a very clever boy. Aren’t you Crookshanks? Good boy. Okay, so you want your right hand here, and your left here, okay? Need to support all of him or he’ll want to escape,” Cecil explained, demonstrating. It took Hermione a moment to properly imitate the movements, but Cecil patiently let her figure it out before retrieving the cat and depositing him in Hermione’s waiting arms.

If Ariadne had thought Crookshanks purring before, this was a whole new level as he happily looked up at the girl who Ariadne was certain was about to buy the cat. Hermione slowly turned back to Dennis and Valerie, her face a wider smile than Ariadne had ever seen on her.

“You want this one?” Dennis asked happily. Hermione nodded, gently bobbing the cat in her arms. “All right then, let’s get him.”

“Wonderful, let’s get him all set with food and a carrier. Crookshanks here is  _ very _ clever, he’ll usually get what you mean if you tell him something, and he’s fully litter box trained as well as knowing to go outside if he needs to,” Cecil said happily, beginning to lead them off toward another area of the store. “It’s nice to finally see him go to a family, it’s been a while coming.”

\--

Their final stop was a more obscure one, as they consulted a map to locate it in one of Diagon Alley’s side streets. Caville’s Clockworks was a tiny little place with an exterior face marked by two extruded windows with a door in the centre, and a sign above engraved with its name, wrapping around the windows.

As they stepped in, Ariadne’s ears were met with the odd ordered chaos that was the soundscape of the interior - dozens of clocks ticked ever so slightly out of sync, and Hermione started tapping her jeans leg in an attempt at matching them. Most of them appeared to be enchanted in some way as Ariadne sensed them adorning the walls of the relatively small room, the Blindsight charm revealing their shapes and sizes as contrasted to the desk at the front of the room, behind which was an empty chair. Numerous little shapes and devices stood on the desk as well, including a bell, but none of them were themselves magic as Ariadne hesitantly approached the desk.

“Go ahead Ariadne,” Dennis said. “You know what you need better than we do.” Ariadne stepped forward, and tapped the top of the bell - the piercing ping rang through the otherwise very quiet office, and a chair croaked in the back. A few seconds later, Ariadne renewed the Blindsight charm to reveal a man who looked to be somewhat old, leaning forward over himself, with crescent moon glasses and a number of magnifying lenses on one side of them. The man peered at her over the glasses, before sitting down.

“Hello, young miss? How can I be of assistance this day?” the old man who must have been the eponymous Caville asked.

“Mister Caville? Um, I have a um, a commission? To ask?” Ariadne said, unsure of how to word it. “Do you make watches, sir?”

“Watches, absolutely. What sort of watch are you looking for, young lady?” he replied cheerfully, as Ariadne reached into her bag for the pieces of paper.

“A braille watch, sir,” she replied, putting the paper and parchment down, glad it hadn’t been ruined by her hurried blowing before they’d left. “Two, actually.”

“Braille? That’s that blind thing that the Granger girl uses, isn’t it?” Caville replied as he leant forward to get a better look at her. “Oh, you  _ are _ Miss Granger. My apologies, working with my eyes all day every day has left my eyes not much better than your own. The magnifying glasses are an unfortunate necessity. So, these would be your proposal designs?” he asked, picking them up and holding them close to his face. Ariadne nodded.

“Yes, sir. I thought it’d work if it used little pins that are pushed up to write the time out in braille, and then I can just run my finger along it,” Ariadne explained.

“Hmmm…” Caville murmured, looking over the designs and the braille documentation as he leant over them. “And the black pins are the- yes, there’s an example. All right, hmmm… This will be a challenge, young lady.” He put the parchment down. “I love a challenge,” he smiled. “You said you needed two?”

“Yes, Mister Caville. One with the Timekeeper Charm, the other without,” she replied. The man smirked.

“Using a Time Turner at Hogwarts, are we? I had a request by a certain Professor McGonagall for the same quite recently, I presume for your sister here?” Caville asked as Ariadne’s hands went numb. “Relative and linear time is a dead giveaway, I get requests from the Ministry on occasion as well.” Ariadne nodded, relieved.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “How-how much will these cost?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Caville replied. “I don’t have a design so I can’t really give an accurate quote but… I’ll say fifteen galleons for the non-enchanted and thirty galleons for the enchanted up front, and however much more was required afterward if that’s agreeable? The Timekeeper Charm might be a bit finicky with the pins but I’ll make it work. It’ll take me a few weeks to put these together, shall I mail them to you at Hogwarts?” Ariadne nodded at the last, but looked back to her parents about the former.

“That’s expensive, but I guess custom watches would be. So that’s forty-five galleons now and… how much afterward if you can name a maximum?” Valerie replied.

“Oh, no more than the same repeated, I never ramp prices above the up-front cost. A maximum total of ninety galleons for the pair.” Ariadne knew that was  _ very _ expensive. However, given the meticulousness of the work and the work designing it, it was probably fair enough for her. With Ariadne’s watches ordered, the details in writing and in her bag, the family set about going home, to introduce Crookshanks to the house and to wait for McGonagall to arrive.

Ariadne studied her assigned Time Turner - Turner 83Σ - as Hermione tried on the watches McGonagall had bought for her, one of which Ariadne could sense with a tiny green glow in the relative darkness as she wasn’t allowed to continue using her charm at home. She left it sitting in its case, as she knew they weren’t to use them outside of school, but she could sense the powerful yellow energy of the device on the end of the chain, as well as the chain itself glimmering golden. After Hermione had declared the watches comfortable to wear - wearing the glowing linear time watch where it might be seen and the mundane relative one further up her arm to be hidden up her sleeve - and Professor McGonagall had offered to have Hogwarts cover the cost of Ariadne’s watches, they made sure Crookshanks had been fed, and went to bed. Hermione let the cat sleep in her room, which their parents thought endearing.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m *really* enjoying this year, ngl  
> I’m also quite liking the ~3000 word chapter length. It lets me fit in more detail, although I might not always use it all up.


	81. Fear Itself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way back to Hogwarts, something stops the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only just dawned on me that I’ve written this and it’s already longer than The Fellowship of the Ring AND as of this morning the second most read Trans Girl Harry Potter tagged fic on AO3 after FOUR MONTHS. What the heck.  
> Why must life hit me with classes right when I have motivation to write???  
> TW: Abuse both physical and mental (flashbacks) and dysphoria. The flashbacks are severe, this is the Dementor we’re talking about. Seriously.

Behind her, as Ariadne stepped out of the car while her parents shoveled their full to bursting trunks and bags onto trolleys, she sensed the bright magical colours of the Weasley family and their whole troupe approaching. Luggage space had been a problem for Ariadne that year, with just how many of her things she needed to bring with her; the nine books, all her robes and clothes, a few notebooks, all of her equipment, the empty potions case, her cane - which at least she could carry and use at the same time - her broomstick, her guitar,  _ and  _ Hermes. In the end, it was almost more than the trolley could handle as it trundled along under the command of her mother behind her, the smell of damp after the morning’s sporadic rain in the air as Ariadne probed the ground in front of her.

“Hey Hermione, Ariadne!” Ron called, speeding up to join them. Ariadne smiled at him as he arrived, about to respond. “D’ya want me to ask my mum to cast that spell for you, Ariadne?” he asked curiously, before she got a chance to. Ariadne shook her head.

“Can’t appear to be able to see here. Would look suspicious,” she replied. “Also my shadow would be where I’m walking.”

“Right,” Ron said. “You two have a lot of stuff this year,” he remarked as he came up parallel with Hermione’s trolley.

“I’ve got books this year, and we needed to bring Madam Pomfrey back her box,” Ariadne replied. “And Hermione has a cat now,” she added, pointing approximately to the wicker carrier sitting on Hermione’s trolley.

“Oh, nice. Keep him away from Scabbers though would y- oh no,” Ron said, before Ariadne heard him gently patting his pockets. “One sec.” Ron doubled back to his mother, where Ariadne heard him asking if she knew where Scabbers was as they descended the ramp to the platforms. Eventually, Molly found Scabbers where he wasn’t supposed to be - on Percy’s trolley, hiding underneath a bag - and Ron returned to them, the orange and green blob that was the rat in his hands. “Crisis averted,” he said hurriedly, after carefully putting the rat back in his large pocket and getting his trolley back from his father. They were nowhere near as late as they’d been the year before, the Grangers because they’d left earlier, anticipating the traffic, and the Weasleys simply because they were closer after staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and after a short period they arrived at the glimmering wall that was the entrance to Platform 9 ¾.

“All right, everybody through, one at a time,” Molly said, ushering the various Weasley children through the wall, Ginny first. Valerie wrapped her daughters in a hug, kissing them each on the head.

“You two have a good term,” she murmured. “And be careful with those time machines,” she added quietly. Ariadne nodded.

“Yes, mum,” she replied, smiling.

“All right, you two stay safe. I love you, girls,” Valerie said, withdrawing to let Dennis past, who also hugged them each in turn.

“Stay safe, Ariadne,” he said, as he pulled away. “No more monsters this year, okay?” he said, half jokingly. Ariadne scoffed and smiled.

“No promises,” Ariadne replied, laughing. “Maybe I’ll kill a dragon this time.”

“No dragons, please, not unless they’re tiny. All right, see you girls!” he called, letting Ariadne quickly take her trolley as she waved back at them invisibly, hopping through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ before anyone noticed the completely blind girl navigating a trolley with little issue, followed by Hermione. As her hair was blown back by the rush of wind, she sighed, finally pulling her wand out of her pocket.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she gladly cast, revealing with a wave the long platform which was packed with a rainbow of people, and the long steam locomotive followed by a dozen carriages. Smiling, she began pushing her trolley forward toward the queue of other kids with their trunks - several of whom whose magical cores she didn’t recognize, or half-recognized before realizing they definitely weren’t the same person she thought they were but more likely a first-year. Once her bountiful cargo had been dispensed onto the train, she joined Ron, who was waiting, and waited for Hermione for a few moments before the three boarded the Hogwarts Express. Hermione’s luggage had taken a  _ lot _ less time than Ariadne’s but the delay of the queue had left many a compartment clogged with students, they discovered as the train began to chuff out of the station and they strolled through, Ariadne relying on Hermione to peer into the closed ones’ windows.

“Is there a single empty compartment on this train?” Hermione thought aloud as they passed another few full ones. Ariadne stepped past an open door, sensing a strange magical core behind it. Curious, she recast the Blindsight Charm as she stopped, revealing that whoever it was was additionally obscured by a thick blanket, only a mop of messy hair and half a forehead sticking out of the top. Beside him on a small wall-mounted table was a bottle, which as far as Ariadne knew could be full of beer, water or indeed could be empty for all she could sense. The person’s core was green and yellow, but within it were light blue… roots? The roots were not dissimilar to how Ariadne had had fungi described to her, and rose up out of the core to reach upward slightly.

“This one. Everywhere else is full,” Ariadne sighed, noting Hermione begin to fiddle with the hand not holding Crookshanks’ carrier. Hermione didn’t like strangers as she groaned slightly but relented, stepping in after Ariadne, who sat beside the strange person. Hermione sat opposite Ariadne, as far as possible from the person, while Ron sat opposite them. Hermione laid down Crookshanks’ large wicker shelter between herself and Ron.

“Who d’ya think that is?” Ron asked, as he sat. Hermione’s magic bounced a little as she looked around for a moment.

“Professor R.J. Lupin,” she replied soon, seeming to have lost a great deal of her unease around Lupin.

“Do you know  _ everything _ ?!” Ron exclaimed, shifting to find a comfortable position. “How is it you two know everything?” Hermione pointed up.

“It’s on his suitcase, Ronald,” she pointed out.

“Oh. Do you think he’s asleep?” Ron asked as Ariadne leant forward, her magic sense revealing the label which was engraved into what looked like a small metal plate above and behind her.

“Well he’s not dead, I’d know if he was,” Ariadne replied. “There’s something weird about him though. What’s in his bottle?” she asked, curiously.

“Just water,” Ron replied. “Could be vodka, actually.”

“I somehow doubt a Professor would have a bottle of vodka on the Hogwarts Express, Ron,” Hermione added. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised a Professor is even taking the train.”

“How else would he get there?” Ron asked, at which both Ariadne and Hermione frowned at him.

“Floo Network, broomstick, apparition to a point just outside the grounds…” Hermione began listing pointedly. “Honestly, you should be the one telling us those. Something weird, Ariadne?”

“I dunno,” Ariadne said, frowning. “It’s like… roots in his magic? But, you know, you’ve got little rivers of yellow in you so maybe it’s nothing.”

\--

“This year should be interesting,” Hermione said as the train rounded a bend and the sound of renewed rain hammered against the window and ceiling. “More interesting than last year at least.”

“For you anyway, you were stuck in a bed for three months. I had to fight the Basilisk!” Ariadne exclaimed, laughing with Ron. “Less interesting, please.”

“Hopefully Sirius Black won’t be a problem,” Hermione said. “Your dad said Ariadne might be targeted, Ron.”

“He what?” Ron exclaimed loudly, leaning forward suddenly.

“According to your dad, Sirius Black might want to kill me,” Ariadne replied. Thinking for a moment, she stood up briefly, and pulled the door shut, cutting off her ‘sight’ of the corridor. It had been empty the entire time, as students were keeping to themselves, but she didn’t want an adjacent compartment to be listening in.

“Let me get that straight. Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban to come after you?” Ron asked, his voice taking on a much more concerned tone.

“Something like that. According to your dad, I must, to him, be the only thing stopping Voldemort from returning,” Ariadne replied, sitting back down with a grave expression.

“But they’ll catch Black, won’t they?” Hermione asked, looking between her sister and Ron. “I mean, everyone’s looking for him, even non-magical people.”

“Sure. Except… no-one’s ever broken out of Azkaban before, and he’s a murderous raving lunatic,” Ron replied, skeptically.

“Yeah,” Ariadne said under her breath. “You’ll both stay with me at Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ron replied, as Hermione nodded while Ariadne renewed the charm.

A shuddering thunk shook the compartment as Ariadne flailed to regain purchase on the seat underneath her with her free hand and the others began looking around. The brakes had come on.

Why had the brakes come on?

“Why are we stopping?” Hermione asked of nobody in particular as the brakes screeched outside and Ariadne’s ears rang. “We aren’t there yet.” The train shook suddenly, as if it had been jostled as it stopped, and Ariadne gripped the chair tightly.

“What’s going on?!” Ron cried, holding Scabbers in one hand as his other, it seemed, held onto his own chair.

“M-mmm-maybe-maybe we’ve broken dd-down?” Ariadne asked. Hermione’s head shot up, as Ron leant over.

“Ouch, Ron! That was my foot!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling her foot back as she looked around. Ariadne frowned. “The lights went out,” Hermione explained as Ron pressed a hand to the window pane.

“There’s something  _ moving  _ out there,” Ron quavered, moving his head around to try and get a better view. Ariadne shrunk into the corner of her chair as the rain outside became all encompassing.

Something was wrong. She could feel it.

“I think someone’s coming aboard!” Ron whispered as the feeling of dread began pooling in Ariadne’s body, as her mind drifted devastatingly.

It wasn’t just the situation that was wrong, she felt as the train’s heaters had stopped working, leaving a chill filtering into her bones. It was her bones that were wrong. Her skin, her body.

Everything was wrong.

She didn’t want to be seen.

Ariadne hurriedly crossed her legs aggressively as the carriage lurched, the door briefly opening and falling shut again as the Blindsight charm began to grey. Ron looked back to the window, possibly watching something outside as something started thumping in Ariadne’s ears.

Footsteps. But they were distant, as she span her head to try and locate the source of the sourceless footsteps.

She couldn’t be seen.

Someone yelled behind her as she balled up, both from cold and shame and the very metal of the train creaked. Not someone.

Vernon Dursley.

The words were indistinct, but the voice was crystal clear as she started panting, horrified. Uncle Vernon had come for her, he was going to put her back in her cupboard.

“Ariadne?” Hermione whispered as Ariadne curled up, tears forming in her eyes as she idly realized that the Blindsight charm had faded.

What charm?

Magic didn’t exist, Uncle said. 

The train shook violently as Ariadne clutched her hands to her ears, dropping her wand.

“Bloody hell! What’s happening?!” Ron cried.

A tiny noise met Ariadne’s pointlessly half-blocked ears after a few seconds of silence. She didn’t care. She was too busy trying to rub bleach out of her burning eyes, Dudley Dursley’s infantile cackling filling her ears. There were other noises too. Was she screaming? Was Harmony saying her name?

Ariadne shrieked and launched herself backward into the unknown man as something  _ horrifying _ filled her colours.

It was dark, black and voidlike, in the way nothing should be. There was the absence of colours, and then there was  _ this _ . It sucked her mind in, tiny sparks of colour flecking at its edges like grasping tentacles.

The world gave way and her mind disappeared as the man who she’d just thrown herself into exploded into motion, her colours blaring in evil as something bright white appeared, between her and the void. She fell back onto the fabric, before losing all consciousness.

\--

“‘Adne!” Hermione cried, shaking Ariadne. “‘Adne wake up! Wake up wake up!” Ariadne screamed, shooting up and almost whacking into Hermione’s forehead.

It took a few seconds of panting and shaking for several key facts to filter slowly into the molasses that was her brain.

One, Vernon Dursley was hundreds of miles away, in home arrest.

Two, Dudley Dursely was thirteen years old, and probably a lot nicer now.

Three, someone had cast the Blindsight charm.

Four, she had been lying sprawled over the entire seat she’d previously shared with Lupin, who now sat opposite her, Crookshanks having been at her head before leaping over to Lupin as she’d screamed.

Five, Ginny was there. Ginny was there? Ginny hadn’t been there before.

Ariadne collapsed in on herself as the memory flooded back. With tears falling, Hermione wrapped her in a hug, and she buried her head into her sister’s shoulder.

“Here, eat this, it’ll help,” a voice said, as something solid was pushed into her hand. “It’s all right, it’s chocolate.”

“Wh-whhhh-whwhwhwhwhwhwhw-whwhwh-whwhwwhat w-was…” Ariadne slurred, still struggling to breathe and raising her head slightly. Lupin had messy hair, and wore what appeared to be a suit. Ron was mostly invisible, so clearly Hermione had cast the charm - her shadow having obscured Ron.

“It was a Dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban, it’s gone now,” Lupin reassured her in a slightly gravelly voice. “It was searching the train for Sirius Black.” He had been the one to put the chocolate in her hand, which she hurriedly put in her mouth as she realized it was melting onto her hand already.

It was a bigger piece than she’d thought, she realized, as she choked on it.

“Oh, oh, there you go. If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a little word with the driver,” Lupin said, standing and stepping to the door past Ginny, his invisible side facing her as the door slid open. “Eat some more,” he said, pointing to the thing he’d left beside Ariadne. “You’ll feel better, god knows you need it,” he added, before closing the door behind him, his quiet footsteps disappearing ahead of Ariadne.

“Whh-whhhhh-who-who-who was screaming?” Ariadne asked quietly, realizing Lupin had been right about needing the chocolate.

“You were,” Ginny breathed. “I heard you halfway down the train. Are you okay?” Ariadne’s ears rumbled as she squeezed her eyes shut, tears returning as she leant back into Hermione, shaking her head.

“She was curled up in a ball before it even came in,” Hermione reported quietly. “Rubbing her eyes and… flashbacks?” she continued, directing the question into Ariadne’s ear. Ariadne nodded shakily into Hermione’s shoulder, and her sister pulled her into an even tighter hug, rocking her. “It’s okay Ariadne, I’m here. We’re all here, you’re safe,” she whispered. “And you always will be.” Ginny leant down, sitting beside them and putting her hand on Ariadne’s back.

Somehow, Ariadne could not shake the fear that her family, her sister, her friends, might all be torn away from her as she was thrown back into the cupboard under the stairs.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to verify whether the charm would wear off when it did and got it first go xD


	82. Third Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new third years arrive at Hogwarts, to disquieting news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dysphoria, deadnaming

For the entire remainder of the train journey, Ariadne remained shut off while working her way through the chocolate. Her friends’ presence was reassuring, and helped her re-ground herself. She would never have to be anywhere near anyone whose last name was Dursley again. The problem was, forcing herself to be so grounded in reality only reminded her of everything else. Of her body, of what she had and what development she lacked in contrast to her peers.

She kept having to rub her own face to remind herself she didn’t have any facial hair, that the dysphoria was lying to her. After she’d been able to uncurl from the ball she’d been wrapped into, she’d settled into a truly uncomfortable position wherein her legs were crossed as far as she could force them, and she held her arms across her chest as she leant into her arched right leg. If only her hair were longer, she’d have been able to hide her face.

Ginny eventually had to leave, returning to her own compartment, leaving Ariadne alone with just Ron and Hermione.

“I wonder who’ll win the World Cup this year,” Ron thought out loud. “Bulgaria’s new Seeker from last year, Viktor Krum? He’s really good.” Ariadne shrugged weakly.

“I dunno,” she mumbled, squeezing a handful of her jumper at her side.

“They’re playing France next week, they’ll probably win. France aren’t very good at Quidditch,” Ron chuckled as Hermione leant over toward the window.

“I think that’s Hosmeade, it’s dark enough to see the lights,” Hermione reported, standing. “We should probably get changed.” Gladly, it seemed there had finally been blinds installed on the train, and the girls stepped out into the corridor to wait as Ron got changed.

After Hermione got changed into her robes and stepped out, Ariadne closed the door behind her and grimaced, still leaning against it.  _ Come on, Ariadne _ , she thought, feeling for her backpack just next to where she’d been sitting, on the floor. She pulled it up and onto the seat, and unzipped it to pull out her Hogwarts uniform. She laid it out on the seat and straightened, pulling her jumper off over her head, which she put into the bag.

She stopped, her fingers around the bottom of her shirt. All she had to do was get undressed, and put on her uniform. How could that be so difficult? She stood, eyes pointlessly shut and jaw clenched, before she relaxed, groaning, her arms falling back to her sides before she grabbed the uniform cloak and brought it around herself. She’d just have to keep it closed. She sighed, pulling the door back open to let her friends back in as she leant over her bag, stuffing her uniform back into it.

“Hang on, you’re not-” Ron said as Ariadne sat back down. “That’s not…”

“Don’t want to get changed right now?” Hermione asked quietly, concerned. Ariadne shook her head. “Dysphoria?” Ariadne nodded, half-pouting in frustration with herself. “Okay, the cloak will have to do.”

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked as Ariande mumbled the incantation for the Blindsight Charm, revealing a concerned frown on the boy’s face.

“Um, I think the Dementor made her dysphoria  _ really _ bad,” Hermione said quietly, closing the compartment door again.

“Oh. That sucks,” Ron said, as Ariadne jumped at the noise of the train’s brakes engaging again as she shuddered. “You okay, Ariadne?” Ariadne shrugged. She wasn’t, but she didn’t want Ron to worry. There was nothing  _ she _ could really do about it but hope she felt better later, let alone Ron.

“Th-t-t-ttht-thhh-thththt-” she spluttered, taking a deep breath. “I um.” She gave up trying to communicate the conflicting needs of the two resulting problems from the Dementor encounter. She didn’t know how to word it, and at that moment, she had no will to. The squealing of the wheels grew louder, far slower however than it had when the Dementor had boarded the train, as the characteristic clunking of their arrival at Hogsmeade Station filled the carriage. Ariadne stood up, holding onto the frame of the door as she pulled her slightly fuller than usual bag onto her shoulders. The rain was still hammering on the window and roof, and she had no intention of having to wait for a carriage in the rain. As soon as the doors opened, Ariadne stepped out as she cast her spell, immediately pulling up the hood on her cloak as the downpour pelted her hair and face. The trio ran, Ariadne hesitantly so as the ground was far from consistent in its muddy state and filled with puddles which manifested as voids to the blind girl, and slipping over into the slop was  _ not _ on her to-do list, running for the bank of carriages.

It was something she was glad of as the three leapt into one, panting and out of breath as the rain got even heavier and they were joined by a - from the sound of it utterly soaked - certain Lavender Brown and Sally-Anne Perks.

“Woah! Fuck, that’s heavy!” Sally-Anne exclaimed as her sodden robes slapped onto the seat and the now full carriage began being dragged through what sounded more like a river than a paved road. “Hey Ariadne, Hermione, Ron!” Hermione nodded back. “Hey are you okay Ariadne? I heard you got hurt?” Ariadne shrunk in on herself a little.

“Y-y-y-y-yyy-y-yy-yeah,” Ariadne replied, not specifying whether she meant she was hurt or okay, shuddering in part from the unseasonal cold and in part from the memory.

“How come you’re not-” Lavender began to ask, before Ron shook his head at her and she stopped.

“She uh…” Ron spluttered, probably realizing he’d dug himself into a hole now that he’d let slip that he knew why. “She had a uh, a panic attack from the Dementor, didn’t have time to get changed.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, Ariadne thought. It was just vague on the timeline, and to be fair that was exactly what she’d done with Rita the year before.

“Oh, sorry,” Lavender muttered. Ariadne spent the rest of the ride silent, although occasionally nodding or shaking her head at questions if she needed to - Lavender and Sally-Anne had had a good holiday, and they gladly crooned over Crookshanks as Hermione revealed the Himalayan-Kneazle cross to them. Eventually, Ariadne found herself, shoes uncomfortably damp, sitting at the Gryffindor table. The arrangement, it seemed, had changed, and the Gryffindor table was now middle-right from the door. The Slytherin, it seemed, was middle-left, as Draco Malfoy sat down nearby them. When the hall was mostly filled and the Sorting Ceremony had been completed, a large group of students flitted in from a side room - many, after Ariadne cast her charm, appeared to be holding toads and carrying instruments. As Professor Flitwick stood in front of them as they gathered before the head table and began to sing, she realized this must have been the school choir.

“ _ Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. Double, double, toil and trouble, something wicked this way comes _ ,” the choir began slowly, as the cacophony of voices in the hall began to die down to listen. “ _ Eye of newt and toe of frog… wool of bat and tongue of dog… adder’s fork and blind worm’s sting… lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing _ ,” they continued, as the rain outside began to turn to thunder, exploding around the castle ever so slightly. “ _ Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble! Double, double, toil and trouble, something wicked this way comes! _ ” they repeated as the storm outside got louder and the music being played by the band members escalated, before dropping back into an ominous, mysterious tone. “ _ In the cauldron boil and bake… fillet of a fenny snake, scale of dragon, tooth of wolf… witch’s mummy, maw and gulf… _ ” The music escalated again in unison with the storm, bringing the barest flick of a smile to Ariadne’s face for the first time since the Dementor attack. “ _ Double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble! Double double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron… bubble! Something wicked this way comes! _ ” the choir sang, topping it off with the dramatic croak of what seemed to be the centremost toad as Flitwick bowed to the Hall and semi-enthusiastic applause filled the room. The choir parted, their path seeming to take them around the back of the Hall to retake their seats as Professor Dumbledore stepped up to the new podium that had been placed ahead of him - its design, as far as Ariadne could tell, appeared to consist of a spread-winged owl, with multiple candles standing atop its wings.

“Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore declared, most of his form entirely invisible to Ariadne as she renewed the charm to reveal his arms spread wide. “Now, I’d like to say a few words, before we become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First; I’m pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who’s kindly consented to fill the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” he declared, swinging his left arm out to indicate the man who sat beside Professor Snape. “Good luck, Professor!” Lupin bowed slightly as clapping rang out for him, and Hermione leant over to Ariadne.

“Of course, that’s why he knew to give you the chocolate,” she said. To tell the truth, she wasn’t sure if she should have eaten  _ all _ of it, she felt a little ill as a result.

“Potter!” came a hushed call from behind her. “ _ Potter! _ ” Draco Malfoy whispered. Ariadne didn’t turn around. She had had a policy of never responding to ‘Harry’ when she was in primary school, this was no different. “Is it true you  _ fainted _ ? I mean you actually  _ fainted _ ?” Ariadne simply clapped, before briefly raising her hand to her shoulder and lowering all fingers save her middle one.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron told him, as Dumbledore spoke again.

“Meanwhile, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher has decided to retire, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs,” Professor Dumbledore said. “Fortunately, I am delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” Ariadne gasped as gentle applause filled the room, and McGonagall seemed to nudge the massive man beside her. As Hagrid stood up - inadvertently sliding the table several feet forward and smashing a few glasses in doing so - Ariadne began clapping as hard as she could. Behind her somewhere, Seamus stood and whistled enthusiastically, and even Hermione cheered out loud. “Finally,” Dumbledore said as the applause died down. “On a more disquieting note; at the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban,” Ariadne groaned. She’d hoped never to encounter one again. “...until such a time as Sirius Black is captured. The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds, and whilst I’ve been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution.” Dumbledore continued, solemnly. “The Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt, and the one who gets in their way. Therefore I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving.” Ariadne took a deep breath, swearing to avoid them whenever possible. “But you know, happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times,” Dumbledore said, waving a hand over one of the candles as a small fleck of blue magic struck out at it. “If one only remembers to turn on the light,” he finished, waving his hand back as a red spark not unlike the  _ incendio _ spell re-lit the candle. Ariadne snorted, sarcastically wondering why  _ that _ hadn’t worked as a literally tortured four-year-old, before the uncomfortable but familiar sensation of food arriving filled her sense before depositing her back in normality as she dug into her dinner, hoping for something to take her mind off the experience.

\--

With a belly that had already been complaining about the overindulgence of chocolate  _ before _ she’d stuffed it full of dinner and dessert, Ariadne eagerly climbed the staircase to the Common Room with Hermione and Sally-Anne beside her, as Seamus leapt up them three at a time. The Fat Lady - whom Ariadne hoped had another name, and intended to ask about it later - was poorly singing some sort of operatic tune as Seamus came to a stop.

“Fortuna Major!” Seamus said insistently, standing in front of the flat magical panel that was all Ariadne could sense of the woman. She spluttered at him in a perturbed tone, seeming to want him to wait. Seamus stood as everyone else caught up to him and she continued singing. “Here, listen,” he said to Dean and Neville. “She just won’t let me in. Fortuna Major!”

“Nonononono, wait, wait, watch this,” she replied insistently. She resumed her song, however instead she suddenly rose pitch three times before entering what sounded more like a scream than singing as Ariadne slammed her hands to her ears as they rang. Behind her, her arms lit with blue, Hermione had done the same and was bobbing anxiously on the spot before the sound of glass shattering broke her cacophony and she stopped. “Ah! Amazing, just with my voice!” Slowly dropping her hands, Ariadne stepped forward a little.

“What did you do? I can’t, er, see it,” she asked politely.

“I smashed a glass, just with my voice!” the Fat Lady replied excitedly, as Ariadne tilted her head.

“Huh. Well done!” Ariadne congratulated her, as Seamus scoffed.

“No ya didn’t, don’t lie to her. You smashed it on the wall behind you. Fortuna Major,” he said, at which Ariadne frowned. She didn’t like when people lied to her about what had happened, to say the least.

“Yes, all right, go in,” the painting said in an annoyed tone. Ariadne made a point of feeling for the threshold with her foot before stepping over it, even though she could at the time sense both her foot and the threshold perfectly well.

“That was a dick move of her, real dick move,” Seamus grumbled as he entered the Common Room. “She can’t even sing, for a start,” he added, as they all approached the stairs and one of the castle ghosts, Ambrose Swott, stepped down.

“Hey man,” Dean said to him as he neared him.

“Hey man,” Ambrose replied idly, clearly not paying attention as his well-defined silvery form slid through Dean, entirely unperturbed as Dean reacted like he’d just walked through the most horrible spider web in history. Ariadne giggled at it as she carefully ascended the stairs to their new dormitory, rain tapping on the window.

The third-year dorm was a little smaller than the second had been, and the beds somewhat closer together, but it was cozy. Lavender quickly turned on the heater, and the girls went about unpacking. Ariadne found herself with surprisingly little space, and had to store her broomstick and guitar under her bed. The Time Turner in its case, she put into her bedside drawer, where she usually stored small things. Their timetables had also been left for them, hers for the first time considerately in magical ink, and showed the intersecting lessons. The next morning, they had two classes in the morning period, followed by two in the afternoon - Ancient Runes and Divination, followed by Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. She was sure they could figure out the logistics in the morning, and she folded the timetable into the cover of her first blank notebook. No doubt she’d go through them quickly - she had one main notebook for miscellaneous notes, and one for each subject.

Once they were all preparing to go to bed, Ariadne having finally gone through with the unpleasant experience of getting changed and struggling not to think about it, she heard something.

“Wh-wh-what on earth was that?” she asked Hermione, who had also reacted to it, as it happened again.

“Sounds like… sounds like a monkey,” Hermione replied, wringing her hands as she cuddled Crookshanks. The sound stopped, and was shortly replaced by short, high pitched bursts of sound, as Hermione put her hands over her ears. An elephant, that time. She immediately knew what the cause was, even if she’d never tried them. Seeing Hermione’s magic shifting uncomfortably, Ariadne leant over to Lavender and Sally-Anne.

“Hey um, do either of you have earmuffs, earplugs or something? The boys must have some Sonic Sweets, they’re messing up Hermione’s sensory issues,” she asked as Hermione jumped at the sound of a lion’s roar.

“No, sorry,” Lavender replied. “They’re gonna keep the  _ whole _ House up, what’s the bet?”

“I have some!” Kellah called from the other side of the room. “Hermione, catch,” she said, swinging her arm. Hermione caught whatever it was, invisible to Ariadne, but from the motion and noise, it could only have been a set of earmuffs.

“Thanks,” Hermione said simply, smiling wryly. With that, Ariadne gratefully went to bed, only occasionally irritated by the Sonic Sweet shenanigans, which it seemed had begun to include non-animate sounds such as train locomotives and clock-tower bells. The latter, at least, she was glad they didn’t repeat, as someone - possibly Percy, who was now Head Boy and very pleased about it - yelled and they stopped, leaving Ariadne to sleep in peace.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the ghost who said “hey man” the second time in the subtitles but I thought it would be infinitely funnier than if it was, say, Seamus


	83. Leapfrogging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione use the Time Turners for their first day of third year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh… good thing my max chapter length is ~3000 words now xD

“Wh-what order do you want to go to classes in?” Ariadne asked Hermione quietly as she discretely did up the clasp of the glowing Time Turner behind her neck, tucking it under her tie and jumper. Ariadne had slept relatively well, luckily, although her sleep had been plagued with nightmares, more intensely than usual and now featuring the horrific all-consuming void that had been the Dementor. Hermione stopped, thinking.

“Shall we just go alphabetically? Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination and then Muggle Studies? After Creatures we go back for Divination,” Hermione suggested. Ariadne nodded, digging through her bag and checking the inside covers of her notebooks for the magical ink telling her which subjects they were for.

“All right, got it,” Ariadne said, picking out the relevant four notebooks and filling her bag with textbooks, her collapsed cane sitting on top just in case. Hermione cringed as she loaded the slightly growling  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ into her own. It seemed Hermione was avoiding touching the tendrils on the book’s open side as she did so, grossed out by the living tome. “Got everything?” Ariadne asked.

“Yep.  _ Spellman’s Syllabary _ ,  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ ,  _ Unfogging the Future _ ,  _ Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles _ , notebook, quill, and this,” Hermione replied, briefly tugging the chain of her own Time Turner from her jacket and exposing the yellow magic to Ariadne’s sense before shuffling it back under.

“All right, let’s go,” Ariadne said, swinging her disturbingly heavy satchel up onto her shoulder, and began to carefully make her way down the spiral staircase down to the Common Room. Even with the Blindsight Charm, it could still be difficult to descend stairs, let alone spiralling ones. Collecting Ron from the Common Room, they made their way down to breakfast.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ . Hey Ginny,” Ariadne said as she sat down beside the girl, Ron sitting alongside as well. “Sleep okay?” Ginny yawned.

“I’d have slept a lot better if there weren’t hooligans with Sonic Sweets in the tower,” she replied pointedly, leaning forward to glare at Ron. “But yeah, I slept okay once Percy dealt with them,” she added as Ariadne crunched down on a piece of toast and turned to give the same accusatory look to Ron.

“What classes have you got today?” Ariadne asked, as Hermione chatted with Parvati.

“Herbology first, then Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Ginny replied. “At least I don’t need to cast spells in Herbology,” she said, looking ruefully down at her right wrist and the purple glimmering bracelet that adorned it. “What about you?” Ginny asked, as Ariadne was about to try to reassure her she’d be fine.

“Uh-” Ariadne spluttered slightly, internally glancing backward at Ron. She had to make sure she didn’t let on about her upcoming time travel. “We’ve got Divination and then Care of Magical Creatures,” she said, remembering the order. She frowned a little, a realization bubbling in her mind. Unfortunately, with Hermione a seat down, she couldn’t tell her discretely; Ron might talk about Divination before they, in relative time, had attended it, if they kept their proposed order. They had to change their plan.

“Oh, with Hagrid?” Ginny asked. “Is he nice?”

“Yeah, he’s nice. He’s a big softie,” Ariadne replied, chuckling. “Did Ron ever tell you about the baby dragon he had in our first year?” she whispered.

“A dragon?!” Ginny exclaimed, hushed, before leaning over toward Ron. “Why didn’t you tell me Hagrid had a baby dragon?!”

“What?” Ron spluttered. “Ariadne you can’t just tell her that, that was  _ so _ illegal!”

“It was  _ illegal _ ?” Ginny asked, her curiosity becoming a hungry grin. “What happened?” Gleefully leaving Ron to explain the matter, with classes approaching she got Hermione’s attention.

“I think I forgot something, see you in Divination!” Ariadne said to Ron, gently tapping Hermione on the shoulder as she stepped by. Hermione made a noise and stood up.

“I need to go to the bathroom, see you Ron,” Hermione said too, following Ariadne out. Once they were safely out of earshot and making headway toward the Study of Ancient Runes classroom, Ariadne leaned over.

“Hermione. We have to go to Divination and Creatures in order, or Ron might notice if we don’t know what happens in Divination,” she whispered.

“I had the same thought,” Hermione said, worried.

“I know you won’t be okay with changing where we’re going now, we probably don’t have time to get to Divination from here anyway, but after Runes, we can go to Muggle Studies, yeah?” Ariadne said, as the clock tower tolled and more voices began filling the halls. Hermione didn’t like being made to change plans without notice. “Then we can go back to Divination and Care of Magical Creatures,” she added. Hermione nodded.

“All right,” Hermione said. With that, the pair arrived at the Study of Ancient Runes classroom, where a Professor Babbling was setting up. Ariadne had sensed Babbling before, such as at the dinner table, but had never spoken with her.

“Ah, our intrepid temporal students! What time is it for you two?” Babbling asked, just as Ariadne cast her charm - Babbling was looking to the door, presumably making sure she didn’t reveal it to anyone.

“Morning, we haven’t gone, er, back yet,” Hermione replied, smiling slightly.

“Well then, good morning Grangers, please, take a seat. You’re early, Professor McGonagall tells me you’re punctual students,” Babbling said warmly. Hermione smiled more broadly.

“Yes, I don’t like it if I feel like I’m going to be late so I always leave a little early,” Hermione replied. 

“Well, I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you this year,” Professor Babbling said, before a small group of more students entered the room. Study of Ancient Runes was right up Ariadne’s alley, and from Hermione excitable bobbing and hand flaps, it was for her too. Professor Babbling started class by going over their curricula - she would be first teaching them basic pictographic runes, including a numeric system, and then going over the simple and commonly used Elder Futhark language, which was a combination of an alphabet and glyphic writing system. Excitingly to Ariadne, they would as an assignment late in the year be composing a unique symbol set they could use as a signature, which would in fact be more akin to a very simple poem. They were encouraged to begin coming up with ideas for sentences if they wished, but not to get attached to anything yet.

Stepping out of class, the pair began to make their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Ariadne, however, drew back and stopped Hermione in her tracks as they got near.

“What?” Hermione hissed, her head moving back and forth in confusion. “What is it?”

“We can’t go to lunch, not now,” Ariadne said, gently pointing. “It’s lit up for me over there,” she said, indicating the corridor illuminated by blue light, which was starting to fade. Hermione frowned. “That means I’m in the Great Hall right now.” Hermione’s mouth hung ever so slightly open.

“What are you doing in there?!” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, I haven’t gone yet. I’m guessing though, that we really should have gone with Ron to Divination  _ first _ ,” Ariadne replied. “We have to go to lunch  _ with him. _ ”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Hermione breathed, turning away. “Darn, I’m really hungry.” Ariadne had to admit, she was dismayed too, as her stomach grumbled.

“Me too. I think I might have some snacks in my stuff upstairs, let’s go grab those,” Ariadne said, following Hermione as the pair headed back up to the Gryffindor dormitory. After wolfing down the small stash of chocolate fudge bars and sweets Ariadne had, which was far less than they really needed, they headed down to the Muggle Studies classroom, avoiding the direct route between the Great Hall and where they knew their future selves would be going; Care of Magical Creatures. Ariadne and Hermione were excited for Muggle Studies, if hungry, and again arrived slightly earlier than anyone else, to meet Professor Charity Burbage, who that year had taken over from a retired Professor Fulcrum. Burbage, it seemed, had been excited to meet them, as well.

“Ah! Grangers!” she exclaimed, hurrying over from her desk and taking Hermione’s hand unexpectedly. “I’ve so been looking forward to having the two of you in my classroom, Ariadne, Hermione. Oh, I know it wasn’t the main focus but I read your thoughts on Muggle society compared to Wizarding society in that article Rita published about you being transgender, and I am so glad someone gets it!” Ariadne smiled.

“Thanks, Professor Burbage!” Ariadne replied, as the professor took her hand as well.

“Wizarding children are so misinformed about Muggles, it’s such a shame. We can learn so much from them,  _ so much _ . We’re the ones who need to blend into their world, after all, and being so behind will only lead to disaster. Only takes one befuddled wizard trying to decipher the London Underground and it could get out too quietly for the Ministry to notice. The Internet is one hell of an informative tool, and I do not trust  _ any _ Ministry official to be able to figure out what a website is, let alone shut down our being revealed on there!” Burbage sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t really teach as much as I’d like to in one year, so I hope I’ll have plenty of students sticking around. Much more comprehensive curriculum with me than with Fulcrum and his torch collection.”

“What will we be covering, Professor?” Hermione asked as more students started to come in.

“This year, mostly just British muggle society, hence the textbook. I would love to go into more global culture, but it’s quite difficult to teach about foreign cultures when the kids don’t even have a base understanding of their own country’s. Mostly recent history, technological developments and the like. I’m also speaking with Professor Dumbledore about whether we can get a functioning computer here, connected to the Internet for research.” Muggle Studies, it seemed, lived up to the pair’s interest, and far surpassed the difficulty expectations of the other students - it seemed that they’d expected Professor Fulcrum’s allegedly lacking curriculum, and were met with far more information than the other Professor.

It was looking to be one of the easiest classes possible, for Ariadne and Hermione, however, as the curriculum looked to go over what they already knew well - Muggle cultural and culinary practices including the multicultural atmosphere of modern Britain, a basic understanding of the Parliament, the Queen, that sort of thing. They would also be taking a look at technological developments; television being a main focus, followed by the advent of the computer and an essay on a British televisual show of their choice, of which several lessons would be devoted to watching on a television she’d procured, such shows as the later episodes of  _ Doctor Who _ , the newly debuting  _ QI _ ,  _ The Weakest Link _ (the two of which Professor Burbage noted they should pay special attention to, given the general knowledge nature of the shows), and taped news clips of recent events.

Ariadne and Hermione were very careful in their departure from Muggle Studies - they couldn’t risk intersecting with their future selves at dinner, and elected to go straight back to Divination, where they would meet up with Ron, go to lunch, then Care of Magical Creatures, and then dinner, to avoid any notice. Also because they didn’t want to go to bed after having had lunch a few hours beforehand and no real dinner. Eventually, they found themselves in the deserted Divination classroom, after having asked Professor Trelawney where Ron had been sitting. Interestingly, Ariadne noticed that she could sense two, very indistinct, yellow humanoid figures in the room, in chairs, which moved ever so slightly and slowly. After Trelawney told them where they had been sitting around a table, Hermione facing the front and Ariadne facing Ron on the left - irritating, as it was a bootstrap paradox, and to be avoided - Ariadne realized it was them, as she sat down directly where the one on her left was sitting, as Hermione sat down facing the front and checked her watch.

“Okay, it’s about four o’clock, and we need to go back to nine o’clock. We need to go back seven hours, so seven turns,” she said.

“Seven turns, okay,” she said, holding it out in front of her and wrapping her fingers around the tiny crank that would turn the Time Turner. Hermione nodded to her, and she began turning the device.

One.

The yellow magic of the device began glistening chaotically, energy building within it as she turned it again, and again.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

“You’ve got seven?” Ariadne asked. Hermione nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” she said, releasing the dial. The chaotic movement of the Time Turners solidified, before into an all-consuming yellow haze that surrounded Ariadne in her entirety.

Sound reached her ears strangely, muffled, as if she were underwater. Voices, some of which she swore she recognized. She could definitely hear the strained voice of Professor Trelawney for the most part, as they seemed to pass back through her afternoon class - or rather, as she did. Technically, Hermione was probably less than a second out of sync than her, but each Time Turner was its own vehicle. Then, silence for a few seconds - she guessed, lunchtime - and then back into the somewhat quieter this time lesson, which they had aimed to arrive at.

“Together, we shall cast ourselves into the future!” Trelawney declared dramatically, as Ariadne found herself in perhaps the least magically coated classroom she’d seen, of the actively used ones at least, as the magical casing of the Time Turner ruptured around her and she quickly tucked the device back into her shirt. It seemed when Hermione had said “around” four o’clock, she had meant just  _ past _ four o’clock, and Hermione appeared less than a second later, her magical core and filmy yellow time-travel shadow appearing in the seat. Ariadne quietly pulled her wand out and cast the Blindsight charm.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she whispered, revealing Trelawney’s wildly bushy hair - on par with Hermione’s - and large glasses, as the woman held her arms out dramatically. She was sitting at a table, upon which was a pair of teacups sitting upside down on platters over a draped tablecloth, and Ariadne quietly got out her copy of  _ Unfogging the Future _ .

“This term, we shall be focusing on Tessomancy, which is the art of reading tea leaves, so please take the cup of the person sitting  _ opposite _ you,” Trelawney said, miming the movements. Ariadne reached over to grab Ron’s cup, unsure of what Hermione was meant to do. It was odd, there was the tiniest bit of yellow magic, not unlike the Time Turners, but much  _ much _ vaguer in the room. Ron jumped as Ariadne’s arm brushed against his.

“Where did you come from?!” he exclaimed quietly. “Both of you?!”

“Us? We’ve been here this whole time,” Hermione replied, setting down her own textbook. Ariadne picked up Ron’s cup, and Ron picked up hers.

“What do you see?” Trelawney asked quietly. “The truth lies buried like a sentence deep within a book, waiting to be read!” she called, in a strangely lilted tone. “But first, you must broaden your minds!” Trelawney added, interrupting Seamus, who had been looking into a cup, placing her hands atop his head and shaking him gently. “First, you must look… beyond!” she exclaimed, throwing her arm into the air. It was more showmanship than teaching.

“What a load of rubbish,” Hermione murmured, earning a sniffing laugh from Ariadne. She, instead, tilted the inside of the cup she held to herself, exposing the bottom to her magic sense. Interestingly, there was a distinct magic to the dregs, which had formed into vague, blurry shapes, although it was fading quickly and she didn’t quite get time to figure them out.

“You, boy?” Trelawney said, approaching Neville. “Is your grandmother quite well?”

“I… I think so?” Neville replied.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, give me the cup. Oh, mmm, pity,” Trelawney crooned, as she took the cup from Dean and set it back down. From the movement, Neville had immediately grabbed the cup from Dean and was looking into it intensely. “Broaden your minds,” Trelawney said, coming over to their side of the room. “Woah, woah!” she exclaimed, and the three jumped as the Professor reached toward Ron. “Your aura is pulsing dear! Are you in the beyond?! I think you are!” she cried, as Ron drew back. Ariadne snorted, as Ron’s magical core wasn’t moving at all.

“Sure?” Ron replied, nodding a bit.

“Look at the cup, tell me what you see,” she told him, shaking her hands at him.

“Uh, yeah, um, well, Ariadne’s got sort of a wonky cross. That’s…” Ron mumbled, leafing through his book. “That’s trials and suffering. And er, that there could be the sun, and that’s happiness. So, er, you’re going to suffer, but you’re gonna be happy about it,” he said. Ariadne sniffed again in slight humour as Trelawney leant forward. To be fair, it could describe such things as her coming out, so that probably wasn’t so bad.

“Give me the cup,” she said, and Ron handed it to her. Immediately upon looking into it, Professor Trelawney shot backward, throwing the cup back onto the table and shouting in shock. Ariadne jumped back in her chair, almost falling off it. “Oh my dear girl…” Trelawney spluttered, mouth opening and closing without words, unsure of what to say. “My dear… you have… the Grim.” Around them, a few students gasped, probably having read it in the book.

“The Grin? What’s the Grin?” Seamus asked from across the room.

“Not the Grin, you idiot, the Grim,” another student whose voice Ariadne didn’t recognize said. “ _ Taking the form of a giant spectral dog, it’s among the darkest omens in our world _ ,” he recited, as Ariadne picked up her own cup, and hesitantly cast the Blindsight charm on the dregs. “It’s an omen of death,” he said, as Ariadne’s heart dropped into the chair, a blue-lined dog sitting in the bottom of the cup.

She hoped at the very least that Divination was as vague a magic as she could sense in the room. Her experience with the Time Turner told her however, that it might not be as vague as she wanted.

And there she was thinking her third year might be more normal.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I just noticed I forgot to mention Unfogging the Future in “Monstrosities, Cats, and Watches,” despite having had the list open while I wrote it. Add one to any numbers I’ve given about books! Le update speed does sometimes result in editing oversights, alas.  
> This was *going* to include Care of Magical Creatures, but this was already way too long to do that. Hagrid gets his own chapter, lucky dude.


	84. Professor Hagrid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Hermione attend their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can’t promise this’ll be a *long* chapter - it’s basically Chapter 83 part 2, because I couldn’t fit it into Chapter 83 without making it WAY too long

“You don’t think that Grim thing’s got anything to do with Sirius Black, do you?” Ron asked, pensively as they slowly descended the uneven steps down the craggy hill to Hagrid’s hut, where they were to meet the man for their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. The girls had hurriedly eaten as much as they could at lunch, to the point Ginny had compared them to Ron, to their embarrassment and Ron’s mirth.

Ariadne wasn’t sure if the stomach ache was worth it, but at least it was better than how her stomach had been growling so loudly Ron could hear it during Divination. Anachronistic hunger aside, Hermione scoffed.

“Oh honestly, Ron. If you ask me, Divination’s a very wooly discipline,” Hermione said from behind Ariadne. “Now, Ancient Runes, that’s a  _ fascinating  _ subject,” she added smugly.

“There  _ was _ some magic in Divination, there was something happening at least,” Ariadne called back. “But yeah, definitely wooly.  _ Your aura is pulsing _ , ha! I think I’d have noticed if your aura was pulsing,” she laughed.

“Ancient Runes? Exactly how many classes are you taking this term?” Ron asked, from ahead.

“A fair few,” Ariadne replied. Ron stopped directly in front of Ariadne as they reached a flatter portion of path, and were it not for the Blindsight Charm she’d have walked right into him. Instead, she only clipped his ankles with her foot.

“Hang on,” Ron said. “That’s not possible. Ancient Runes is in the same time as Divination, you’d have to be in two classes at once,” he said. Ariadne frowned, trying to disguise her concern that Ron had worked it out that quickly.

“Don’t be silly Ron, how could anyone be in two classes at once?” Hermione said dismissively, stepping past them. “Broaden your minds, use your Inner Eye to see the future!” she added, tauntingly. Ariadne laughed heartily.

“My inner eye’s a little busy, if I’m honest,” she joked, waving her arms about to generally point at the world around them, yawning. Luckily, Ron didn’t notice the yawn as he and Hermione cackled in response. It must have been late evening for the pair, she realized, and resolved to ask Hermione what time it was, relative to them, next opportunity she got.

“Tired?” Ron asked, noticing the yawn to Ariadne’s annoyance.

“Inner eye got a lot of exercise,” Ariadne quipped sarcastically. “I wonder if they do Inner Eye Stretches,” she said as they approached Hagrid’s hut, eliciting another laugh from the pair. Revealed by the Blindsight Charm, Hagrid was cultivating a much larger crop of pumpkins that year than usual, why Ariadne wasn’t sure. Eventually, they found themselves joining the small crowd of students holding the characteristic magic slabs of the  _ Monster Book of Monsters _ gathered around the front door, where Hagrid was standing.

“That’s it, come on now,” Hagrid called. He seemed a little nervous, but, Ariadne supposed, any first-time teacher would be. “Come closer, less talking if you don’t mind. I’ve got a real treat for ye today. A great lesson. So follow me,” he said, stepping off of the steps but imposing no less above the students, starting off toward the treeline as Ariadne tried to be ahead of the group as much as possible. “Now, I know this is the Forbidden Forest. I’ve cordoned off this area of it for classes, shouldn’t have any trouble with any of the Forest’s nastier beasties. Down this here path,” Hagrid called from the head, turning slightly to see Ariadne nearly by his side. “Hello there Ariadne, Hermione! Saw you had an interesting summer, you did, comin’ out and all.” Ariadne smiled, as the sounds of leaves and birds surrounded her.

“Yeah.  _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne replied simply, not knowing how else to reply. She’d never been inside a forest with the charm, and the strange surroundings of leaves and branches was odd but pleasant to her.

“It’s good that ye’r going public with it all, might help some of those… what’s the word…  _ transphobic _ buggers pull their bloody heads in,” he said. “I dunno if it’ll help, but I’ll always support ya,” he added, ruffling her hair with his gigantic hand. “Hey, how come you ain’t got yer book? I thought you could er, cast a spell on ‘em?” he asked.

“Oh, er, the book being magic makes it hard to read,” Ariadne replied. “And when I tried to cast it, it er, it atta-atta-ttacked me.”

“Oh,” Hagrid said, apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout that, if I’d known it’d react like that I’da assigned a different one. I’ll um, I’ll write out the pages for ya in that ink Flitwick’s been making, okay?”

“Thanks,” Ariadne nodded.

“All right, just through here. Built that wall meself I did,” Hagrid called, proudly as they approached what appeared to be a clearing as Ariadne cast the Blindsight charm again. “Right, you lot. Less chattering, form a group over there. And open your books to page 49!” he said, beginning to stride over to an area where he no doubt was storing their first Magical Creature to care for.

“And how exactly do we do that?” called an angry-sounding Draco Malfoy from far behind her.

“Stroke the spine,” Ariadne said in unison with Hagrid.

“Just stroke the spine o’course!” Hagrid replied. “Goodness me,” he added quietly. Ariadne smirked - evidently the Malfoys had been irritating enough to earn the book going unexplained to them. The column of students followed the wall along to where Hagrid had indicated, and Hermione pulled out her copy of the living book, beginning to stroke its spine.

Neville unclasped his, conspicuously without stroking it.

“Stroke the-!” Ariadne exclaimed, as the book erupted into growls and catapulted itself onto Neville as the boy shouted in surprise, falling to the ground amidst a cloud of paper as Seamus laughed.

“Don’t be such a wimp, Longbottom,” Malfoy said, going past him and, from the limited glimmer of blue magic that coated him, sneering.

“I’m okay!” Neville breathed, before the book attacked him again. Ariadne stopped, and turned around.

“ _ Immobulus _ ,” she cast simply, causing her charm to vanish but rendering the book entirely sessile.

“Thanks Ariadne!” Neville called gratefully, standing up with the book, which was comically frozen mid-bite.

“Do it back up,” Ariadne told him. Neville frowned but did it anyway, pulling the book closed again and doing the latch back up - she couldn’t ‘see’ it, but she heard the latch, and the pages were just as magical as the rest of it. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . Stroke the spine,  _ then _ open it,” she said patiently, revealing the world back to her sense, but releasing the book from the charm, which immediately growled angrily at its captor.

“O-okay! Thanks!” he called, stroking the spine of the book to calm it as Ariadne stepped away.

“I don’t like the tentacley… things on them, but they’re kinda funny,” Hermione said, setting hers down on a stump as Ariadne came around to her.

“Oh yeah, terribly funny!” Draco called from behind them. “Really witty. God, this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears Dumbledore’s got this oaf teaching classes.”

“Oh? And what’ll he do?” Ariadne asked sarcastically. “Threaten the Governors into suspending him like he did last year?”

“How dare you?!” Draco exclaimed, strutting over. “Just wait ‘til my father hears about this!”

“He already has, I was there when he was caught,” Ariadne replied smugly. “What, don’t like that dear Lucius isn’t a saint?  _ Aurum Radia _ ,” she asked sweetly, as the boy stumbled back a bit and the entirety of the Gryffindor studentry assembled snickered. She frowned, as the boy stumbled again, looking up, before he pointed.

“Dementor, Dementor!” he cried, as everyone behind Ariadne span to look, before seeing there was nothing there. Ariadne, however, stood perfectly still as Malfoy and his gang pulled up pointed hoods. Ariadne raised her eyebrow as their ominous booing was cut short in disappointment.

“Eyes in the back of my head, Malfoy,” she said, smiling as the entire troupe again laughed at Malfoy. “Afraid you’re going to have to find more inventive juvenile pranks,” she added smugly as she turned around to rejoin Ron and Hermione at the front, yawning and deliberately playing into the appearance of boredom by flapping her hand in front of her mouth, again to the delight of the Gryffindor students. Returning, with what looked like fuzzy cylinders strapped to his chest, Hagrid cleared his throat to get the attention of the class as a glorious gold and purple magical core stepped out from the trees.

“Da-dadada!” Hagrid cried triumphantly as Ariadne’s charm caught the squawking, horse and eagle footed, eagle headed form of what Ariadne could only presume from description was a Hippogriff. “Isn’t he  _ beautiful _ ? Say hello to Buckbeak!” Hagrid called, throwing something which Buckbeak caught in his mouth, his wings splayed slightly.

“Hagrid? Exactly what is that?” Ron asked, appearing confused behind Ariadne, who noticed she’d stood at the very front of the group.

“That, Ron, is a Hippogriff,” Hagrid confirmed. “First thing you wanna know about Hippogriffs is that they’re very proud creatures,  _ very _ easily offended,” he told them, as Buckbeak preened his wing feathers. “You do not want to  _ insult _ a Hippogriff. It may just be the last thing you ever do,” he said ominously. “Now! Who’d like to come and say hello?” Hagrid asked enthusiastically, clapping his hands together and turning to the creature. Behind her, everyone started backing away, save for Neville who leapt down behind a stump. Ariadne wanted to back away, but, fumbling with her wand to recast the charm so that the ground was not obscured by her own body, she found herself standing alone ahead of everyone.

“Well done Ariadne, well done!” Hagrid said, turning back and beckoning her over. Ariadne spluttered, moving jerkily in multiple directions, not knowing what to do. “Come on now,” Hagrid added, as Ron leant forward behind her and pushed her gently. Shaking like a feather, she stepped slowly forward toward the animal. “Now, you have to let him make the first move, it’s only polite. So, step up, give him a nice bow, and then you wait, and see if he bows back,” Hagrid instructed. “If he does, you can go and touch him. If not, well, we’ll get to that later.” Ariadne stopped when she was a few paces behind Hagrid from the animal. “Just make your bow,” he said. Ariadne awkwardly followed the instruction, bending and holding one arm behind her and the other in front. “Nice and low,” he added, and Ariadne bent even lower. Buckbeak turned to her, squawking before suddenly rearing up a tiny bit and beating his wings.

“Back off, ‘Adne, back off!” Hagrid hissed. Ariadne was already doing it, feeling around behind her. She could theoretically turn around to move ‘forward’ away from it, but she didn’t want to insult it by turning her back on it.

Her foot snapped down on a twig as she flinched, stopping. Far behind her, Hermione grabbed Ron’s sleeve, tugging at it. Buckbeak settled down, his vocalizations calming as he stopped as well. After a tense moment of pause, Buckbeak lifted one foot off the ground, and leant his head down, bowing.

“Well done, Ariadne! Well done!” Hagrid said, chucking another thing at Buckbeak for him to eat. “Here you go, you big brute you,” he said. How that didn’t constitute insulting the Hippogriff, Ariadne didn’t know, as she straightened her complaining spine. “Right, I think you can go and pat him now,” Hagrid told her. “Go on, don’t be shy,” he said, ushering her toward Buckbeak. Behind her, Malfoy pushed through the crowd as the Blindsight charm faded entirely, and Ariadne began stepping forward slowly, feeling for any obstacles in the darkness. She didn’t know how Buckbeak would take it if she drew her wand to replace it. “Nice and slow,” Hagrid said quietly.  _ Slow’s about the most I can do right now _ , Ariadne thought as she moved at a veritable snail’s pace. “Nice and slow, let him come to you,” Hagrid added. Ariadne stopped entirely, holding out a hand as the purple and gold Hippogriff core got closer and she shuddered like a leaf. “That’s it, hold your hand out for him,” Hagrid said, and Ariadne slowly raised her hand. Buckbeak jumped back slightly, and Ariadne flinched, moving back. Buckbeak seemed to slow at that, confused by the fear in this new human. She held her arm out, smiling performatively - hoping Buckbeak understood that - waiting for him. The core moved slowly, every footfall crunching dead leaves and pine needles, until the Hippogriff was only a metre or two from her, as she felt his breath on her robes and heard his quiet noises far louder than she had with the others. Her hand shook like a leaf as suddenly, out of the darkness, something touched it. She flinched back by a centimetre, and Buckbeak drew back slightly as well, before gently pressing his feathered face to Ariadne’s stabilizing hand. Ariadne smiled, taking in the texture of his plumage as she gently rubbed his face. Her exhaustion forgotten in fear and surprise, she patted the Hippogriff’s face, who seemed to enjoy it as he pressed his head even more into her hand.

“Yes! Well done!” Hagrid called, clapping loudly as applause gathered from her classmates far behind her. “Oh well done Ariadne! Well done!” he added, before walking over to her and Buckbeak. “I think he may let you ride him now. Come on.”

“ _ What _ ?!” Ariadne asked in a panicked tone before Hagrid’s gigantic invisible arms had hooked under her armpits and lifted her off the ground.

She did not like being lifted off the ground.

“Heyheyheyheyheyheyhey!!” she screamed. “Hagrid!!” she protested, kicking her legs, hoping she didn’t hit Buckbeak.

“Just put you over the wing joint there,” Hagrid said, depositing her on the animal’s back. She immediately flattened herself against the Hippogriff, desperately trying to gain any kind of purchase near his neck as her heart beat faster than it had in months. “Don’t pull out any of his feathers, he won’t thank you for that!” Hagrid told her as Buckbeak squawked. Something hit Buckbeak behind her, possibly Hagrid himself, but she didn’t have time to think about it as Buckbeak reared up, making her glad she’d wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as possible, and began thundering down the brick-walled clearing as she screamed.

Gravity pulled her into the beast as g-forces tried to resummon her to the ground - Buckbeak had lifted off, she realized as she felt the powerful wings beating on either side of her. She held on for dear life as the sounds of the forest and birds disappeared, replaced by the wind howling around her. Buckbeak called out, a strained, rusty sounding tone as the sounds of blowing leaves got quieter and quieter. She could begin to sense the vague outlines of parts of the castle as they flew over it - the magical cores of students in one of the courtyards far below, before flying out over what, from what vague idea of the layout she’d been able to glean from far above and little magic, had to have been the Great Lake.

Her suspicions were confirmed as her stomach ascended as they lowered, the sounds of gentle waves filling her ears and the gentle spray of water vapor making her close her eyes as Buckbeak gurgled happily. She heard Buckbeak descend a foot into the water, the sound of sustained water breakage surrounding them as she loosened her grip slightly, allowing herself to resume gently patting Buckbeak’s neck as best she could without losing balance.

“Good Buckbeak, good hippogriff,” she said gently, running her hand down his plumage. Buckbeak started bowing up and down a bit as he raised up from the Lake, powerful wing muscles returning to flight rather than gliding, and pulling them up and away from the surface. Ariadne, meanwhile, re-tightened her hold on Buckbeak as she felt gravity become unpleasantly sideways for her. Funnily enough, Buckbeak seemed to notice her unease, and levelled out quickly, performing far more gentle maneuvers as they flew over the faint sound of birds and trees again.

Below, a calling whistle blew out, and Buckbeak began to descend gently, before spiralling around what Ariadne could sense through the tree canopy as being her classmates, before gracefully descending, wings pumping until they came to a gentle halt on the floor in front of Hagrid as the class clapped happily and sung her praises for her bravery.

“Well done Ariadne!” Hermione called from the head of the group who slowly approached where she’d landed.

“Well done Ariadne, and well done Buckbeak!” Hagrid called, striding over and patting Buckbeak as he arrived. “Well done, well done,” he said, hoisting Ariadne off the Hippogriff. “How’m I doing, me first day?” Hagrid asked quietly.

“Brilliantly… Professor Hagrid,” she replied, smiling, before something caught her attention in the class and she spun. Malfoy had pushed through two of his Slytherin compatriots and was striding toward Buckbeak, with no heed to the warnings.

“Yes... you’re not dangerous at all are you, you great ugly-” Malfoy began, as Hagrid followed Ariadne’s facing direction and leapt into action, striding toward him with speed Ariadne didn’t realize the massive man was capable of.

“Malfoy!” he yelled, putting himself immediately between the two. “Now, what did I say about approaching a Hippogriff?” he demanded as Buckbeak squawked begrudgingly. “You strut up here and start calling him names, you’re gonna get yerself badly injured, you are!  _ Very. Proud. Creatures _ . What did I say?”

“Pff, it’s not dangerous!” Malfoy scoffed.

“You see these here talons, Malfoy?” Hagrid said, pointing to Buckbeak’s front legs as Ariadne renewed her Blindsight charm. “If he wanted to, he could gut you. Back of the class, go! Twenty points from Slytherin!” Hagrid pointed, and Malfoy begrudgingly followed the command, dragging his sorry arse back as Hagrid tossed another morsel to Buckbeak. “Now,” Hagrid called, striding toward the class as Ariadne followed him. “Some o’ the creatures I’ll be showing you this year are  _ not _ to be trifled with! Buckbeak here is one of ‘em. If I tell you something’s dangerous, you bloody well do NOT go near it unless I say so, understand?” he barked.

“Yes, Professor,” a number of kids mumbled, nodding. Hermione said it much more enthusiastically as Ariadne returned to her side.

“All right then. Malfoy, you don’t get a turn. Now, do we have any Slytherins who’d like to try?” Eventually, Daphne Greengrass had successfully gained Buckbeak’s approval, and Hagrid sent Buckbeak off to give her a ride as well, turning to the class and holding up his own copy of the book. While students were riding, Professor Hagrid went through the various means of caring for Hippogriffs, including proper talon and hoof care and what regulations one had to follow if keeping them in areas where non-magical people might see them - while apparently the old Professor had focused more on the traits of the animals, Hagrid was taking the word “Care” very seriously. While Ariadne left the class satisfied and surprisingly knowledgeable about how to care for Hippogriff young, she was extremely tired, and fell upon her dinner with an appetite far greater than her usual. Unlike most nights, she fell onto her pillow already asleep that night.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne would have sensed Malfoy earlier, in my interpretation since she can sense in all directions but canon!Harry was looking at Hagrid.  
> xD This ended up longer than Chapter 83 lmao


	85. Rewinds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their second day of term, Ariadne and Hermione adjust their practices slightly to keep their activities a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks to abuse (more minor than recently, but still there).

“Ariadne! Ariadne, wake up!” Parvati exclaimed, jerking Ariadne awake from the horrible dream she’d been having. She turned over abruptly, confused by her magical surroundings for a split second before realizing what was happening. “Wow, you two  _ never _ sleep in, let alone both of you,” Parvati marveled, drawing back as Ariadne jumped.

“Blergh- wh!” Ariadne spluttered, spinning over in her bed. “Whhhhwhwhwhwhwhwhat time is it?” she asked groggily.

“Er, a little past 7:30?” Parvati replied. Ariadne jumped sideways out of her bed, her foot clipping the curtain and sending her careening onto the floor before she sat up. Parvati roused Hermione, whose reaction was similarly panicked as she sprinted from her bed and down the stairs to the bathroom. Ariadne quickly downed her potions, grimacing at the weird taste she’d woken up with in her mouth, and hurriedly pulled her bed curtains shut to get dressed. Her brain wasn’t even awake enough for her to be uncomfortable with her body, she was still internally analyzing the facets of hippogriff chick caring from the night before as well as an absurd dream involving the young version of Voldemort and the Goblin King of  _ Labyrinth _ .

“Ariadne,” Hermione whispered from outside the curtain as Ariadne buttoned up her blouse. “Ariadne?” Ariadne batted at the curtains and poked her head out to sense Hermione’s magical core outside, almost knocking into Hermione’s forehead. “So we need to do today differently,” she said tiredly.

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied, yawning. “What do we have again?”

“Arithmancy and Defence in the morning, and Charms in the afternoon, but I think we should go to Defence and Charms in order with Ron, and then leave dinner midway through to go to Arithmancy,” Hermione said. “Then we go back to Arithmancy, and then later we just go back to dinner. The food won’t be old, we’ll only just have left,  _ and _ we won’t be going hungry.” Ariadne frowned.

“Won’t people notice if we’re always leaving dinner?” she asked, doing up her tie.

“Not if we don’t do it at the same time,” Hermione replied smartly. “Just eat enough, say you’re going to the bathroom, and then come back after class. I won’t ask about anything you learned, you don’t ask me, we’re good on timelines.”

\--

Ariadne wasn’t sure what she was to expect when it came to the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Lupin. She was, after one murderer and one fraudster, a little apprehensive about new teachers in the position. However, the man had seemed very down-to-earth during their brief interaction on the train - very personable, and helpful. On top of that, he had allegedly cast the spell that banished the Dementor immediately, and had done his best to bring Ariadne back into consciousness.

Odd magical core fungus aside, he seemed a nice man, and often wore a comfortable suit with a long coat rather than robes, which Ariadne had to admit was a refreshing change from the stuffy robes of other Professors, even if she could only sense its shape.

Entering the classroom, Ariadne had almost thought her charm was malfunctioning - in the long room, which had always been lined with desks, was simply the floor, with a few displays of jars and horns along the sides. Far from the door was a large curved cabinet, which seemed to have an odd crimson magic tinge to it.

Ariadne jumped as the cabinet suddenly shook, filling the room with the sound of its legs trundling on the floor and the door rumbling.

“What d’you suppose that is?” Ron asked nervously, tilting his head toward it.

“The cabinet, or its contents?” Ariadne asked jokingly. “No clue, I’m sure Professor Lupin will tell us,” she replied as the room began filling with students. She flinched, as did everyone else, as it did it again. Behind her, Professor Lupin entered the room.

“Good morning third years,” Lupin called, making everyone other than her jump out of their skins and turn to him. “Now, normally we will have desks, but just for today they rather get in the way. I thought we’d have a little fun today. Oh, er, if anyone has back problems and needs to sit down, I’ll conjure some chairs,” he said, positioning himself directly in the middle behind them, facing the cabinet as Ariadne cast the Blindsight Charm to reveal the man and his thin-looking parted hair. “Intriguing, isn’t it?” he called, beginning to walk around to the side of the class. “Would anyone like to venture a guess... as to what is inside?” he asked, going by what looked to Ariadne like some sort of jawbone on the windowsill, not unlike that of the false dragon skeleton hanging behind them but much larger. She tilted her head, thinking.

“That’s a Boggart, that is,” Dean said, nodding at the cabinet and looking back to Lupin.

“Very good, Mister Thomas,” Lupin replied, before it shook again. “Now can anybody tell me what a Boggart  _ looks _ like?” he asked.

“No-one knows,” Hermione piped up.

“I might,” Ariadne said at the exact same time.

“One Granger at a time, please,” Professor Lupin chuckled. Ariadne offered her palms to Hermione, as if to let her go first.

“No-one knows,” Hermione repeated. “Boggarts are shape-shifters; they take the shape of whatever a particular person fears most. That’s what makes them so terrifying-” Hermione recited.

“So terrifying, yes. Yes. Ariadne, you had something to say?” Lupin asked, nodding to her.

“Um, I m- I might be able to see it,” she replied. “Depends on how it works.”

“I hadn’t thought about that, interesting,” Lupin said. “Let us know, eh? Now,” Lupin mused, stepping to the front of the class. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel a Boggart.” THUD-UDTHUD. The man turned to look at the cabinet, before turning back. “Let’s practice it now. Uh, without wands, please,” he added. Ariadne renewed her charm and slid her wand back into her pocket. “After me:  _ Riddikulus _ !”

“ _ Riddikulus _ !” Ariadne said back, accompanied by the rest of the disparate class. 

“Very good,” Lupin called, before the cabinet slammed behind him again. “A little louder, and  _ very clear _ . Listen:  _ Riddikulus _ !” he added. Ariadne followed, carefully imitating the word.

“This class is ridiculous,” she heard Malfoy mutter to her far right somewhere, and she internally rolled her eyes. Somehow she suspected the boy wouldn’t do well academically this year.

“Very good,” Lupin said. “Well, so much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a Boggart, is  _ laughter _ ,” he told them. “You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing, let me explain. Uh, Neville, would you join me please?” Neville took a deep breath and stepped out in front of the class.

“Hey Remus,” Neville mumbled.

“Hello,” Lupin replied nonchalantly. “Neville; what frightens you most of all?” Neville’s reply was muted and mumbled, but Ariadne picked up enough of his half syllables to be horrified by what he’d said.

“Sorry?” Lupin asked, frowning.

“Professor Snape,” Neville replied, louder this time. The rest of the class laughed, particularly the Slytherins - save for Ariadne and Hermione. Ariadne knew how poorly Snape treated Neville, threatening to poison him or his toad with his own work, to name only one instance. She hoped against all odds that the Boggart  _ wouldn’t _ become the Potions Master, if only for Neville’s sake.

“Professor Snape… frightens us all,” Lupin said, feigning humour. “And I believe you live with your grandmother?” he asked.

“Yes, but I don’t want that Boggart to turn into her either!” Neville protested. Everyone chuckled again, as Ariadne felt nothing but sympathy. 

“No,” Lupin said. “It won’t. I want you to picture her clothes, only her-... actually, no, forget that. That’d be a bit insensitive of me, given company.” The Professor thought for a moment, as Ariadne realized what he’d been about to suggest and went red. “I don’t know Professor Snape well, at least not recently. What’s something he accuses you of a lot?” Lupin asked.

“He-he says I always mess up,” Neville stammered.

“All right then,” Lupin said, coming to Neville’s side. “What if the tables were turned, eh? Picture  _ that  _ in your mind.”

“Maybe if he was holding a-” Neville began to describe, as Lupin shook his head.

“We don’t need to hear,” he said gently. “As long as you see it, we’ll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe, here’s what I want you to do. ‘Scuse me.” Lupin leant down to Neville’s ear, and whispered something somewhat lengthy to him. “Can you do that?” Neville nodded. “Yes. Wand at the ready.” Neville took his wand out as Lupin started counting up. “One… two… three.” The Professor flicked his wand, and without incantation, it spat out a silvery yellow arm which twisted the locking handle on the cabinet.

Immediately, a dozen crimson tendrils lashed out of the door, without pushing it, and slapped Neville’s face - strangely to Ariadne, he didn’t react. Perhaps they weren’t corporeal. Seconds later, a red blob floated out of the cabinet, pushing the door open without truly touching it.

“Think, Neville, think,” Lupin said quietly. It was strange; Ariadne could hear the footsteps, and even indeed the breathing of Professor Snape as clearly as if he were in the room, but neither his magical core nor his shape in the Blindsight charm was present. All it was was a red blob, millions of tendrils lashing out, the largest of which at Neville. Neville aimed his wand.

“ _ Riddikulus _ !” Neville cried, a beam of green light shooting out at the blob. As it hit, the light almost… contaminated the red clump in Ariadne’s vision, making it almost more like what she’d had Christmas decorations described to her as. She heard a glass shatter and gas escape, which she flinched at before realizing it was part of the illusion. The entire class laughed, even Hermione was happily giggling.

“Wh-what happened?” Ariadne asked, confused.

“A beaker blew up in his face, he’s not hurt but the gas made him woozy and - oh he’s getting pimples now!” Hermione replied, still bobbing as Professor Lupin laughed.

“Wonderful, Neville, wonderful! Incredible, okay, to the back Neville, everybody form a line!” Lupin cried. As the man walked over to something on a desk on the side of the room, Ariadne found herself unwittingly shuffled into the proverbial deck of cards, as she found herself immediately pressed between two students and veritably thrown forward by the weight. She tried to jump out of the clump, but found herself stuck as Hermione too, going off her magic, was having a hard time.

“Get off of me!” she exclaimed desperately, trying to bring herself back to balance. Eventually, the clump reached equilibrium and she could breathe again.

“I want everyone to picture the thing they fear the very most!” Lupin called, leaning over something. “And turn it into something… funny.” A needle dropped, and carnival music began to play out of what Ariadne suddenly realized was a record player with a comically large antique soundpiece. “Next! Ron!” Lupin called, pointing. Ron stepped forward, acquiring the attention of the Boggart as the green magic drained, leaving it red again. “Concentrate, face your fear. Be brave!” Lupin urged him, as the Boggart’s tendrils lashed out at his head. Ron whimpered slightly, as he pulled out his wand.

“It’s a giant spider,” Hermione whispered to Ariadne. Ariadne, however, was thinking. She needed to picture the thing she feared most, but she didn’t know what she feared most. The possibility of the world always seeing her as a boy? The Dursleys? She hoped the Boggart wouldn’t reach into her memories as a 3 year old and appear to everyone as identical to the Dursleys in those years, it would be… awkward.

“Wand at the ready Ron, wand at the ready!” Lupin added.

Given what she’d experienced at the hands of the Dementor, she couldn’t discount the possibility. But how to make the Dursleys funny, she wondered, as the class erupted into laughter as Ron allegedly put roller-skates on his spider and its thump on the floor reverberated through the room.

“Yes! You see? Very good, very good,” Lupin exclaimed. “Marvelous! Absolutely, very very enjoyable! Parvati, next!” Ariadne was briefly distracted by a hissing noise as Parvati’s mind took over the Boggart - snakes, which only reminded Ariadne of the Basilisk. Idly, she realized she was somehow next, standing at the front of the queue as Parvati cast the spell.

“Keep your nerve, steady, steady,” Lupin said, standing to the side.

“ _ Riddikulus _ !” Parvati exclaimed, thrusting her wand out at the creature and converting the snake’s hissing into a metallic springing sound - from Hermione’s shuddering dislike, a jack-in-the-box clone.

“And next, step up step up!” Ariadne hesitantly stepped forward, her sides numb as she prayed her plan would be good enough. “Wonderful, wonderful!” Lupin said, looking at something on the table as Ariadne held her wand out and waited for the Boggart to latch onto her. It took a second, the springing sounds of the jack-in-the-box filling the space as the laughter dissipated. Perhaps it couldn’t work on a blind person?

It could, it seemed, as the tendrils lashed out at her and the oscillating warble of the shifting Boggart filled Ariadne’s ears.

The entire class gasped, and chaotic noise burst forth. There were layers to it, as Professor Lupin yelled and threw himself between the two, and as Ariadne recognized the sounds.

Vernon Dursley, shouting. Dudley Dursley, giggling, and a hollow sucking noise she realized belonged to the Dementor on the train.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BOY?!” Vernon shouted, as Dudley laughed and sounded like he was running around, before the red tendrils of magic latched onto Lupin and its form began to shift again. Ariadne stumbled back, face losing any and all blood supply as her heartbeat hammered in her ears, sweat breaking out on her forehead.

Whatever Lupin feared most, it was silent as Ariadne shuffled on her feet, breathing heavily as it stopped.

“ _ Riddikulus! _ ” Lupin cried, before a strange, rubbery sound punctured the air and the Boggart took off into the air - it had become a balloon, farting out all its air as it flew, before Lupin grabbed it with a burst of light from his wand and swung it back into the cabinet, which sealed again to the obvious rage of the Boggart as it jostled around. “Right, sorry about that,” Lupin said. “On second thoughts, may not have been my best idea to throw possible traumatic events like that into the open,” he sighed. “I’ll just fetch the desks, and we’ll do this a little more theoretically, eh? Sorry, can have too much of a good thing.”

\--

“I just realized something,” Ariadne whispered to Hermione as they converged in a broom closet off the Hall during dinner, preparing to go back to Arithmancy with their unnerving time-travel shadows standing beside them. She was pretty sure nobody else could see those, it would have made it almost impossible to hide.

“What?” Hermione asked, pulling out her Time Turner and taking hold of the dial.

“My potions,” Ariadne replied. “I’m supposed to take them every twenty-four hours, but we’re travelling back in time.”

“And it’s not in sync anymore?” Hermione finished, letting the Turner fall back to her chest. “Maybe we should go back a little further and talk to Madam Pomfrey?” Ariadne nodded.

“If we’re going back that far, I can just take my potions at bedtime tonight, linear bedtime,” Ariadne said, doing the math in her head. “But we need to keep a record of it, maybe time it.” Hermione unbuttoned her blouse sleeve, pulling it up to reveal - were Ariadne able to see it, as it hadn’t been caught by a charm - the unenchanted watch, seeming to adjust it slightly.

“Okay, it’s five o’clock now, you need to take it at seven in the morning relative?” Hermione asked. Again, Ariadne nodded. “Ten o’clock linear is when you need to take it,” she added.

“Nine if we go back an extra hour to talk to Madam Pomfrey,” Ariadne replied. It was even more out of sync than she’d realized before doing the math. “So we need to go back to seven o’clock this morning?”

“Yep. That’s… ten turns, wow. I think we should do the half-meal thing at lunchtimes instead, that many turns regularly isn’t good for it,” Hermione told her. “And it’ll make it easier on us with timezones.”

“Hmm,” Ariadne replied. “But we can’t today, come on. Ten turns,” she said, beginning to count them out as the energy built in the Time Turners. Hermione and her time-shadow vanished, before Ariadne too was enveloped in yellow light as the concentric rings of the device span wildly. It took longer than it had the day before for Divination, but was far quieter as the only real noise seemed to come from between classes and at lunch, before the ‘bubble’ popped and Ariadne found herself beside Hermione once more in the now entirely dark broom closet.

“Okay. It’s seven o’clock, we’re not even awake yet so it should be easy enough to avoid ourselves,” Hermione said. “Come on, let’s get to the Hospital Wing.” Hermione pushed open the door, hesitating to look around.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne whispered as they stepped out and quietly began making their way up the indirect route to the Hospital Wing. They didn’t want to meet anyone else either, just in case someone mentioned seeing them when their dormmates knew they weren’t even awake. Eventually, they reached the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was setting up for the day.

“Oh, Grangers… it’s a bit early, isn’t it?” Pomfrey asked. “Is everything all right?” Ariadne nodded.

“Oh um, we-we-we-we-we-we’ve just come  _ b-back  _ from dinner,” she explained, looping her hands around as Hermione held out the chain of her Time Turner.

“Oh, of course. What time is it for you right now?” Pomfrey said, clearly relieved that she wasn’t about to have a medical emergency on her hands.

“Five o’clock in the evening, Madam Pomfrey, that’s actually what we came to ask about,” Hermione replied, turning to Ariadne.

“Mm, um, you know the potions I’m on?” Pomfrey nodded. “I need to take those regularly, but this means time is all.. weird,” Ariadne said. “I need to take my next one at about nine o’clock this evening, linear time.”

“Ah…” Pomfrey breathed. “That does cause some logistical oddities, doesn’t it? Okay, I’ll give this pair to you to hold onto now, shall I have two pairs left for you in the mornings instead of one?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes please, Madam Pomfrey. Not this morning though, um, bootstrap paradox,” she replied. “We’re not even awake yet,” she added, laughing slightly. “Slept in accidentally.”

“Oh dear!” Pomfrey laughed. “If you’re having sleep problems, since your times are all out of order, I can have a couple beds curtained up here for you to get some rest during the day if you need. Dormitory might not be discrete enough.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Hermione replied, nodding. “It’ll be… nearly midnight for us at lunchtime,” she said, laughing under her breath.

“All right, I’ll get that all done for you this morning, you can pop in and have a nap when you need to.” Pomfrey told them warmly. “Oh, Ariadne, I’ll need you to give me a summary of how much… extra time it’s been for you each weekend, because I need to keep up with you in terms of checkups and concentration changes.”

“Oh, okay,” Ariadne said, thinking. “We went back seven hours yesterday, and ten today, so that’s seventeen hours so far. I’ll keep a log,” she added.

“That’s... more than I realized. It’ll definitely effect your potions, I’ll make the necessary adjustments. Thanks for letting me know, see you at your midnight!” Pomfrey said as the pair set about going to Arithmancy. As they’d arrived extensively early, Ariadne set about setting up a log of time jumps to give to Pomfrey while Hermione read ahead in the textbook. Arithmancy, it turned out as taught by the strict Professor Vector, was the study of magic when it came to numbers, including predicting the future using mathematical models and probabilities - Vector was appreciative when Hermione mentioned that non-magical people did the same thing sometimes, however less accurately - which seemed to Ariadne to be a more trustworthy discipline than Divination, which was much vaguer. Additionally, which Ariadne was more interested in, was the spell-making applications of mathematics, and how various equations affected spellwork. At the end of class, Vector assigned a veritable mountain of homework as far as third-years were used to, and the exhausted pair made their way to the Hospital Wing to get some sleep.

Madam Pomfrey courteously woke them when it was dinner time, and the girls waited behind a statue for them to hear their previous selves close the broom-closet door behind them. Waiting a little, they then returned to dinner, exactly as they’d left it ten hours before.

“That was quick,” Ron said as they sat down. “You all right?” he laughed.

“There’s a few people in there already, I’ll go later,” Ariadne said, taking a moment to remember their excuse of going to the bathroom. Ron grunted in understanding as Ariadne ate a mouthful of her mashed potato, her stomach growling at her. At least she wasn’t exhausted anymore. The tranquility of dinner, however, was interrupted almost immediately as Seamus ran down the table with what could only be a newspaper.

“He’s been sighted, he’s been sighted!” Seamus cried, throwing it down on the table as everyone turned to him.

“Who?” Ron asked as the twins leant over the paper in front of them.

“Sirius Black!” Seamus replied loudly. Hermione immediately slid over, and pulled the paper toward her. Ariadne pulled out her wand to cast her charm on the ink as she awkwardly maneuvered herself behind Hermione and Bem, standing beside Seamus.

“Dufftown?!” Hermione exclaimed as Ariadne whispered the incantation, the room around her vanishing. “That’s not far from here.”

“You don’t think he’d come to Hogwarts, do you?” an invisible Neville asked, worriedly.

“With Dementors at every entrance?” Dean asked, rhetorically before Seamus interrupted.

“Dementors? He’s already slipped past them once hasn’t he!” Seamus exclaimed. “Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

“That’s right,” Bem said, as Ariadne’s heart began to drop. “Black could be anywhere, it’s like trying to catch smoke. Like trying to catch smoke with your  _ bare hands _ .”

Seamus and Bem were right. And given Mister Weasley’s warnings, Ariadne knew she had to be careful. Because unlike Neville, she did think Black was making his way to Hogwarts, just from his proximity alone. It all but confirmed it as far as Ariadne was concerned; Black was coming to Hogwarts, to try to kill her.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops - one would think I’m doing the time travel, the paper about Sirius was supposed to arrive the night before. Oops!  
> Bloody hell, how am I running out of word space with 3000 word limits and going off movie scenes?! xD It used to be a problem that I didn’t write enough when based on movie scenes! Fuck it, 3000’s not a hard limit, but it will slow me down if updates become 4000 words or so, since that’s like 2 chapters.


	86. Autumnal Adversaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne attempts to visit Hogsmeade for the first time, but the guards at the gates prove problematic for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a hot sec, been busy and my brain’s made of fudge this week.  
> TW: Flashbacks to abuse, dysphoria. Thanks, Dementors at the gates.

“Have fun at Hogsmeade ‘Adne!” Ginny called from the sofa as Hermione anxiously ushered a dithering Ariadne and Ron away to head down to the courtyard. Somehow, the ability to travel backward in time had done nothing to help Hermione’s lateness anxiety, and if anything it had intensified as she was infinitely more conscious of time, and held to a strict timetable both linear and relative to herself.

“S-see you Ginny!” Ariadne called back, waving awkwardly and stepping out through the portrait door. “We’ll get you some sweets!”

“She’s replaced me!” Ron exclaimed indignantly to Hermione as the door closed. Hermione cackled as Ron continued. “Ever since last term, she’s spent more time with Ginny than me!”

“S-since then I learnt something, Ronald,” Ariadne said jokingly.

“What’s that?” Ron retorted.

“G-g-gg-Ginny’s prettier than you,” Ariadne added sweetly, chuckling to overcome the embarrassment she didn’t know why she was feeling. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . But in all seriousness, of  _ course _ I’m spending more time with her, I’m  _ supposed _ to.”

“Oh,” Ron mumbled. “How’s, er, how’s that going?” he asked timidly as they began descending the staircase. “She doing okay?” Ariadne nodded.

“She’s doing well,” she replied. “Almost managed to Transfigure a goblet yesterday like McGonagall was teaching.”

“Nice!” Hermione said. “Is she okay?”

“Ehhh,” Ariadne quavered as she almost tripped on a stair and righted herself. “Whoop. Er, she’s definitely not happy about it,” she sighed. “But she’ll get there,” Ariadne said as they came around one of the landings.

“Good,” Ron said simply, grimacing. “It sucks,” he added as Ariadne mentally side-eyed the gigantic pendulum that swung in the entrance hall, belonging to the clock tower high above. It was entirely too low to the ground for safety, and she had always suspected that Hagrid must have been concussed by it at least once. She never liked passing under it, the damn thing made its own wind system.

“Ah, Grangers, Mister Weasley, good morning,” said Professor McGonagall, who stood at the entrance of the courtyard which was rapidly filling with third-year students, beside Argus Filch. “I trust you have your forms?” she asked. “Excellent,” she added as Hermione pulled hers from her pocket. Ariadne fished hers from her bag, knuckles brushing against the crystal vials with her potions in them. “All right, that appears to be mostly everyone,” McGonagall said as the three joined the throng.

“Now, remember,” Professor McGonagall called, getting the attention of the lightly chatting students as a few came up to give Filch their forms. “These visits to Hogsmeade village are a  _ privilege _ . Should your behaviour reflect poorly on the school in any way, that privilege shall  _ not _ be extended again.” Filch leafed through the forms he’d been handed. “Now, is that everybody? I see we have a few stragglers… all right then. Mister Filch.”

“All those with permission, follow me, all those without, stay put,” Filch called, striding forward off the steps and taking the head of the column which Ariadne and Co. found themselves at the centre of. Ariadne shivered slightly in the autumnal cold - Hogwarts had been sodden with a general dampness and according to Ron, it was foggy. Ariadne couldn’t sense the fog, but the smell of wet leaves and grass was enough for her as she made her way down the semi-familiar cobbled path. After a point however, it was no longer the same path they took to the train station and Ariadne was glad to be treading new ground - even if it did mean she didn’t know where bumps were and had to be much more careful of where she stepped.

Finally, came the moment Ariadne had been dreading, as she spotted the characteristic all-consuming black holes of two Dementors at the gates, her skin crawling at the memory of the train and at what she knew was the start of their influence. She felt wrong as she held her bag in front of her, hiding. Hermione draped a hand over Ariadne’s back as they got ever closer.

She wasn’t sure what was worse. The abrupt effect of the Dementor that had only briefly been in contact with her, or the slow osmosis as she approached it at her own pace. Her face itched, and she could hear stomping in the distance.

All in her head, she reminded herself, trying to control her breathing. The Dementors, it seemed, were not actively latching onto the students, so she hoped that it wouldn’t be as bad as it was when she first encountered one. But, at the same time, she knew it hadn’t taken that for her to have the worst panic attack she’d ever experienced.

It was taking all of her will to remain grounded in reality as she drew ever closer, only a few metres away. Petunia’s shrill voice shrieked in her ear, as her eyes itched and phantom bruises ached all over her body. She’d eaten a hearty breakfast, but her stomach growled as it had when she was starved nearly a decade before.

“YOU’RE FUCKING LUCKY I LET YOU EAT  _ ANYTHING _ , YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOT!” Vernon bellowed in the depths of Ariadne’s mind as the nearest Dementor latched onto her, eagerly pulling at her as she screamed, falling to the ground and curling up into a ball. Her face was on fire as the second Dementor leant in and the other kids she was only vaguely aware of gasped in shock.

Suddenly, it vanished. The flashbacks ceased, although her grasp on reality remained no less shattered, as Professor McGonagall leapt forward, yelling.

“GET BACK!” McGonagall screamed, leaping between Ariadne and the first Dementor, which faltered. “YOU WERE ORDERED NOT TO ATTACK STUDENTS, RETURN TO YOUR POSTS IMMEDIATELY!” she roared. Hesitantly prowling from side to side, the Dementors backed off begrudgingly.

“Ariadne!” Hermione cried, kneeling beside her. “‘Adne?!” Ariadne desperately grabbed the hand a magically frantic Hermione had offered, holding it as she struggled to stand, her legs weak.

“Dear god, Ariadne, are you all right?!” McGonagall exclaimed, taking her shoulder and leaning in to her. Ariadne tapped her upper arm twice as she held her arms over her chest.

“Er, she says no,” Hermione explained.

“Merlin… now I know what Remus meant,” McGonagall whispered.

“Professor?” Hermione asked as Ariadne clung to her.

“Professor Lupin is an excellently qualified Professor in regards to such magical creatures. Even he has never heard of such an extreme reaction to a Dementor, neither by proximity nor active predation like we just saw, outside of Azkaban itself,” McGonagall replied, worry in her voice. “Mister Filch, if you would take them please?” she called.

“All right ma’am. Come on, you lot, no lollygagging,” Filch said, drawing the gaggle of students with him.

“Mister Weasley, you as well. Hermione, Ariadne and I need to have a discussion,” McGonagall said. From the sound of it, Ron had nodded, and Ariadne gratefully leant into the hug he invisibly pulled her into.

“See ya,” Ron mumbled, before following the rest of the group.

“Ariadne, I’m sorry, but given this, I cannot condone your visiting Hogsmeade if doing so would entail risking such damage to your psyche twice each visit,” Professor McGonagall told her, as she grimaced. Her own mind wasn’t done attacking her, she wasn’t happy to not even get anything out of the experience. “Such a reaction cannot be a good sign of what repeated exposure would do to you. You head back, okay?” Ariadne nodded reluctantly into her chest, pulling off her backpack.

“For the box? Okay, I’ll tell them you sent me,” Hermione replied, taking the offered bag as Ariadne again nodded.

“And Hermione dear, would you make sure your future self meets with Ariadne at your Music lesson in an hour, linear time? Good, good. Can you handle yourself going back?” McGonagall asked, taking Ariadne’s shoulder again. Ariadne nodded glumly, beginning to turn. “All right. Go see Professor Lupin if you have time, he has plenty of chocolate on standby.” Hermione came over and hugged Ariadne.

“Sorry ‘Adne,” she whispered. “You’ll be okay,” she added, rubbing her sister’s back. “I’ll see if I can get those letters for you, and I’ll get you something nice okay? See you. Oh, you need to take your potion in two and a half hours!” With that, McGonagall and Hermione parted from her, and Ariadne began the slow journey back to Hogwarts castle. Her head was a fog of confused fear and rage mixed with the muddy hatred of her own physical form, and she didn’t realize she was there already as she idly knocked on the doorframe of Professor Lupin’s office.

“Ah, Ariadne, what can I do for you?” Lupin asked cheerfully, before his illuminated face became worried. “You’re supposed to be at Hogsmeade… and given how grey you look, I doubt your presence is due to that Time Turner you’ve got.” Ariadne shook her head. “The Dementors at the gates, I presume?” She nodded. Lupin reached into a drawer and pulled something out, snapping it. “Here,” he said, offering her the invisible object. Chocolate, which she gratefully put into her mouth. “Tea?” Ariadne hummed in approval as Lupin started a kettle boiling with a tap of his wand. “Milk, sugar?” She nodded again. “Ariadne, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, I meant to but I got rather busy with the delivery of the subject for our next lesson, it slipped my mind,” Lupin said as she chewed, pointing at a large rectangle which, from the sound of water, was a tank. “Grindylow. Trick is to break the grip, brittle fingers.” The man sighed. “From what I saw on the train, a single Dementor is enough to do to you what the entire horde of Azkaban does to its inmates. Best you don’t go near them.” Ariadne nodded, before trying to speak.

“C-ccccc-c… can I ask.. you something?” she struggled out, not facing up at him. Lupin leant back a little.

“You want to know why I stopped you from facing that Boggart, yes?” he asked. Ariadne nodded. “Let’s just say when I saw you walk up, I realized bringing a Boggart into a room with  _ you _ was perhaps a foolish blunder on my part. I assumed it could take the form of any number of horrors, from Lord Voldemort to your relatives.” Ariadne nodded, grimacing. “I’m curious, if you’ll forgive me. The Boggart took a rather unusual shape, one I’m guessing is what your fear looks like  _ to you _ . A void, completely dark, with flashes of light at its edges. From what you described in the paper, not what your shouting uncle looks like to you. A Dementor?” Ariadne nodded.

“It wasn’t as bad. I think the Boggart isn’t capable of most of it,” she replied quietly.

“Yes, on the train Hermione said you were trying to rub something out of your eyes, reliving their injury?” Again, Ariadne nodded. “You know, it isn’t so surprising. What you fear is fear itself, that of your past. However, a Boggart simply isn’t capable of instating some of those.. effects.”

“It’s not just the flashbacks,” Ariadne mumbled. “They… they make my… d-ddddd-dd-... dysphoria… so much worse,” she said, struggling to enunciate as she involuntarily curled up a little. “And it’s even worse because I have to pay attention to everything to get out of the flashbacks and-” she half-ranted, choking on a sob, as Lupin took her arms, much like McGonagall had.

“Hey, hey, there there. You’ll be all right. I know it’s probably not helpful, but the.. dysphoria is lying to you,” Lupin said. “You look fine. Distraught, yes, but fine.” The man sniffed a little, smiling. “You know, the very first time I saw you, Ariadne, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar but, well, everything. You have no idea how much you look like your mother Lily.” Ariadne faced up, surprised. “Oh yes, I knew her. Your mother was there for me at a time when no-one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman.” Ariadne smiled. “As are you, I’m told. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even and perhaps most especially, when that person could not see it within themselves.” Lupin smiled again as Ariadne flicked her wand to renew the charm. “Rather like you can with Miss Weasley; I’m told that you can see her magic far better than I can, even with that damnable bracelet,” he added, before chuckling. “Your father, James, on the other hand… he uh, heh. He had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumour has it, you share, little Miss Basilisk Slayer.” Ariadne let herself laugh slightly at that. “You have his hair too, if he’d ever let it grow out. I know you don’t consider them your family, but you’re more like them than you know.”

“I never knew them,” Ariadne mumbled, shrugging.

“Oh of course, I don’t mean to imply anything. One would consider it less inheritance of traits and more… convergent traits of a good person that you too have happened to develop,” Remus said, pouring her a cup of tea. “I’ve only got decaf teabags, unfortunately, caffeine doesn’t agree with me,” he said, sliding it over as he poured milk into his own. “Oh, two hands there perhaps,” he chuckled as Ariadne almost spilled her tea immediately, her hands shaking. “I, on the other hand, knew them well. And they probably knew me better than anyone else. I’m immensely gratified that the Grangers have taken you in, that their beautiful daughter is taken care of.” Reassured a little, belly warmed by the tea and her bag full of chocolate just in case of further Dementor encounters, Ariadne soon made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

“No, Crookshanks, Hermione’s not here,” she crooned as Crookshanks meowed at her feet. “She’s at Hogsmeade, and also downstairs going to music probably,” she added as she fished her guitar out from under the bed. “Yeah, your mum’s a time traveller!” she said, kneeling down and petting him. She wasn’t quite used to the cat, but she appreciated his presence, and she had to admit he helped her feel better as he pressed his face into her hand. “Eew, you’re all wet. Have you been outside? Did you steal cobwebs?!” she added, standing up as a cobweb clung to her hand. “Messy boy,” she said, stepping out and holding the guitar case by the handle.

Arriving at the large classroom Professor Flitwick used for Music lessons, Ariadne was confused not to find her promised sister. Neither Hermione nor her time-shadow were present, and Ariadne frowned as they started and Hermione was not present when Flitwick figured out who was in attendance.

She’d said her future self would travel back to be there. Why hadn’t she? Was something to happen that evening?

Ariadne was broken from her confusion by Professor Flitwick sitting up on a tall chair beside her.

“All right, Miss Granger. I see you came prepared,” he said, nodding to her guitar. “I’m sorry to hear what happened at the gates, I hope Hermione’s having a good time.” Ariadne nodded, still frowning. “Now. We don’t have many music students, so that gives me plenty of time to work with you individually. How are you with that guitar?”

“I-I know how to play  _ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star _ ?” Ariadne offered questioningly. “Or I did. On a four stringed one. They taught us a little but they didn’t let me learn much.”

“They?” Flitwick asked.

“Mm, primary school. Mum and Dad don’t play any instruments either, so nobody would teach me after that,” Ariadne replied ruefully.

“Not very nice of them. Okay, we’ll start with the basics. Let’s see what you remember,” Flitwick said, indicating for her to show him. From his reaction, she hadn’t remembered much, but he’d quickly corrected her abhorrent postural mistakes, and even helped her relearn  _ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star _ for a six-stringed guitar, which sounded infinitely more correct to Ariadne’s keen ears. They’d started with tabs, and he’d been overjoyed to learn she had sheet music with her, but she’d have to learn the basics before learning to properly play any of the songs.

Hermione still had not travelled back, not even by the end of the Music session, nor the Spellmaking workshop where Ariadne had looked into refining her  _ Lumos Astra _ modification. There had to have been a reason, Hermione would not have failed to appear without one, Ariadne knew as she wandered to the courtyard to meet her returning peers. She wasn’t sure if she should mention it, as the sensed Hermione’s magical core bobbing along, wondering if it would cause a Bootstrap paradox, or if her  _ not _ doing so would be a paradox.

“Hey ‘Adne,” Hermione called as she and Ron approached, each holding a few bags.

“Hey Ariadne!” Ron too called. “We got sweets!” he said, holding up his bag. “And dungbombs, but don’t tell Filch.” Hermione giggled.

“I, of course, know nothing of this,” Hermione teased. “I got you teabags! There wasn’t much I thought you’d like, there really aren’t many accessible goodies other than sweets and tea,” she said, handing Ariadne a bag and a small cardboard box. She also pulled off Ariadne’s backpack, which was completely empty as Ariadne took hold of it and frowned. “They didn’t let me empty the box, you need to send them a letter,” Hermione explained as the three began up the steps to the castle. Ariadne opened the cardboard box, awkwardly balancing her wand and the sweet bag in her other hand and smiled as she took in the familiar rich smell of the Phoenix Tear teabags. “Feeling better?”

“Mmmmm.. Mostly, yeah. How was Hogsmeade?” Ariadne asked, adjusting her bag on her shoulders as they started up the staircase amongst the other students on their way to the Common Room.

“It’s nice! Foggy, but nice. There’s a music shop there, Dominic Maestro’s. You can buy an entire pipe organ there, it’s incredible,” Hermione excitably replied. “ _ And  _ there’s a branch of the tea shop!”

“And Percy snogging that Penelope Clearwater in said tea shop,” Ron snorted as Hermione slapped his arm. “Honeydukes Sweetshop is brilliant, but  _ nothing _ beats Zonko’s Joke Shop. We never did get a chance to go to the Shrieking Shack though,” Ron added as they waited for the final staircase to swivel over to more quickly reach the Gryffindor Common Room. Something was off, Ariadne could sense, but she was concentrating on Ron. “You heard that it’s the-”

“Most haunted building in Britain!” Ariadne replied. “Yeah, Hermione and I read about it. It was only built in the 1980s, but there’s no real records of its construction or why it was built. No-one lives there, no-one ever has. There’s no door in either. What’s going on?” she asked, noting the crowd gathered around the portrait of the Fat Lady - asking her actual name had entirely slipped Ariadne’s mind after she’d lied to her.

“Probably Neville’s forgotten the password again,” Ron muttered, as Ariadne frowned.

“No, Neville’s right-” she began, before Neville, who was standing right behind Ron protested.

“Hey!” Neville exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh! You’re there…” Ron jumped, almost bemused in his realization that Neville had been right behind him the whole time, as the staircase came to a halt while Percy’s magical core made its way down the adjacent one.

“Er, let me through please,” Percy called, gently pushing through. “Excuse me, I’m Head Boy!” he added sternly to someone who hadn’t complied, before freezing. Ariadne knew exactly what he was concerned about as the angle righted itself and she sensed the large gashes in the Fat Lady’s portrait, filled in weakly by the web-like filaments normally found between paintings. “Get back, all of you. No-one is to enter this dormitory until it has been fully searched,” he said worriedly as Ginny made her way down the stairs toward them.

“The Fat Lady, she’s gone!” Ginny exclaimed, stopping in front of them.

“Serves her right, she was a terrible singer,” Ron said.

“It’s not funny, Ron!” Hermione replied, annoyed.

“She may be a painting but magical paintings are sentient,” Ariadne mumbled as the other paintings began to react in panic.

“Keep calm everyone. Break into fours, back to your Common Room!” Percy called, seeming to be talking about the few non-Gryffindors that had joined them. Ginny joined her brother and the Grangers as her group of four, even though the instruction probably hadn’t meant her.

“Make way!” Mister Filch snarled from behind them, and Ariadne immediately flattened herself against the balusters.

“Headmaster’s here!” Percy announced, as Filch followed the multicoloured Dumbledore up the stairs, passing them.

“Come on, move!” Dumbledore came to a halt a few feet from the painting, as Filch stepped around him with a lantern in one hand and Mrs. Norris cradled in the other arm. Hermione stepped to the other side of Dumbledore to get a better view, as Ariadne was content to stay where she was.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne whispered as Filch turned, seeming to look around while Dumbledore brushed his fingers along the torn canvas.

“Mister Filch. Round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle to find the Fat Lady,” Dumbledore ordered, his voice becoming more and more concerned as he spoke.

“There’s no need for ghosts, Professor,” Filch replied. “The Fat Lady’s there,” he said, pointing his lantern-burdened arm at the opposing wall of the stairwell chamber. Gasps and whispers erupted before a veritable current of students shoved Ariadne over, before Ginny quickly took her hand and helped her up, and the group followed the current. Ariadne did so less from a need to observe, as she could not see the Fat Lady no matter what painting she inhabited, but more to avoid being shoved over again.

“Mind where you’re going, slow down!” Percy yelled. “You listen, I’m Head Boy!” Ariadne could not help but suppress a chuckle at Percy’s position going to his head.

“Keep moving!” Dumbledore called, stuck behind a crowd of kids as Filch fluttered them away and Dumbledore eventually stood beside what must have been the painting inhabited by the dormitory’s guardian. Funnily enough, Ariadne and Ginny had found themselves quite nearby. “Dear Lady, who did this to you?” Dumbledore asked gently.

“Eyes like the devil he’s got!” She wailed. “And a soul as dark as his name! It’s him Headmaster. The one they all talk about! He’s here! Somewhere in the castle!” the Fat Lady cried. “Sirius Black!”  _ That _ was why Hermione hadn’t met her at Music.

“Secure the castle, Mister Filch,” Dumbledore immediately ordered. “The rest of you! To the Great Hall!” he yelled.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I’ll be less busy after next week, classes are finishing.


	87. Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts reacts to the revelation that there may be a killer among them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we start to get into the really interesting stuff.

Outside the Great Hall, great crashes resounded as Dumbledore ordered the castle sealed. From what Ariadne could hear, gigantic bars were slammed down onto holds to seal the main doors, the bangs resonating through the entire Hall as Professors scrambled to positions. Even Filch was on alert as Professor McGonagall tried to calm the students and Madam Pomfrey brought bedding and curtained spaces for privacy as they got changed. Ariadne had  _ not _ enjoyed that. She didn’t even feel comfortable in bathrooms whose stalls didn’t reach the floor, curtains alone weren’t ideal. At least her bed’s were able to be tied to the posts in order to guarantee privacy, and she got changed almost entirely in the corner of the makeshift stall, away from the sides of the curtain.

“What do you think will happen?” Ginny asked Ariadne as she sat down after herself getting changed, clothes in a bundle beside her as Dumbledore ordered various staff to search the castle for any signs of Sirius Black - trail or otherwise. “Oh, I like your pajamas, they’ve got bunnies on them,” she added.

“Thanks, um… I don’t know,” Ariadne replied, awkwardly acknowledging her pajamas by patting her legs. She had to admit, she was a little shaken by the news, and didn’t know how to react. “Maybe they’ll catch him?”

“He probably didn’t stick around,” Ron grumbled from his bedroll. “What I don’t get is why he even went to Gryffindor Tower, wouldn’t he know it’s a Hogsmeade weekend?”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked, tilting her head at her brother as she sorted out her blankets.

“Your dad thinks he’s uh… your dad thinks he’s-he’s-he’s trying to kill me,” Ariadne explained quietly. “Ron’s right. Why would he go there if-if-if- if-if he knew I wouldn’t be there?”

“Wh-” Ginny spluttered. “But you weren’t  _ at _ Hogsmeade? He wants to  _ kill _ you?!” she added, horrified.

“Black didn’t know that,” Hermione replied. “Unless he saw you at the gate, but if he did, then he wouldn’t have waited until  _ after _ you’d left with your guitar for Music,” she mused, tapping Ariadne’s guitar case which sat beside them, serving as a bedside table. “Maybe he’s not looking for you at all.”

“Who then? He went to Gryffindor, last I checked ‘Adne here was the only Voldemort-slaying heroine in the House,” Ron said as Ariadne doubled over in embarrassment at his description.

“Or  _ what _ ,” Hermione added, anxiously tapping her knuckles as she sat up. “Who knows what he’s trying to do?”

“Maybe this is what the Grim was about!” Ron exclaimed, before realizing how loud he’d said it and quietening down. “‘Cos you said Divination was vague, right? What if that was possible today but just didn’t happen?” Ariadne sat back suddenly, shocked. It made far too much sense.

“Grim?” Ginny asked, alternating her head about confusedly.

“An omen of death, a big black dog,” Ariadne replied sullenly. “We were reading tea leaves on Tuesday, it showed up in my cup.”

“Oh god…” Ginny whispered, her bracelet ringing on the floor as she repositioned herself.

“But it didn’t happen, right? I’m still here, everything’s fine,” Ariadne said. “Well, except for Sirius Black being on the loose but…”

“We don’t know he won’t try again,” Hermione said, cutting her off solemnly, still wringing her hands. “Ginny, could you make sure Ariadne’s not alone while we’re at Hogsmeade? If Black gets in again and tries to kill her while she’s… I don’t know, going to music.” Ginny nodded.

“I will. Maybe I should learn to play something too!” Ginny replied. “Maybe they have a drumset.” Ron laughed. “What? We could never afford anything, if the school has a drumset it’d be great.”

“Whenever we looked at instruments she’d always start banging on the drums in the shop,” Ron chuckled. “Even when we were really little.”

“Stop it,” Ginny chided him. “It’s not like you were any better when Mum let you ride a broom for the first time. And  _ you _ were eight, not three.”

“You say that as if you  _ stopped _ ,” Ron replied, laughing.

“Oh shut up!” Ginny exclaimed, throwing her pillow at Ron. “Drums are cool, okay? And so’s guitar, I think it’s really cool, ‘Adne.”

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I only know a little,” Ariadne spluttered as she blushed, fiddling with her fingers. “And most of what I did to-b-t-t-t-t-bt-b before today was wrong.”

“All right, that’s enough, you four,” Professor McGonagall said quietly, stepping by the row of sleeping bags, bedrolls, blankets and pillows. “Off to sleep now please, it’s late. Good night, Grangers, Weasleys.”

“Yeah, go to sleep,” Seamus mumbled from a few rows away. Ariadne whispered an apology, and laid down while Ginny reclaimed her pillow from an argumentative Ron. Over the next few minutes, the chatter of the Hall began to din as kids stopped their talking, or at least reduced to whispers. Hermione, it seemed, was going to have trouble sleeping as she put on a pair of earmuffs she’d bought in Hogsmeade. Ariadne wasn’t likely to sleep easily either, and not only because of the differing environment, but because of what had happened that day.

On top of being thrown into the improperly padded gymnastics wall made of sharp stones that was her traumatic past by a pair of Dementors, she’d returned to her dormitory only to find someone had attempted to murder her. Or, had  _ most likely _ attempted to murder her, she had to admit that Hermione was right; they didn’t know for certain that that had been his intent. Had she not taken Music and Spell-Making, the Grim omen in her cup could have been a lot more relevant.

It was only more disquieting to her that until Black was found, she couldn’t consider herself safe even in her own dormitory. The Grim was not necessarily gone. The man had been able to get into Hogwarts, right under Dumbledore’s nose, who was supposed to keep her safe. She hated that Hermione had had to rope in Ginny just so she could use her leisure time without worrying about Ariadne getting stabbed. And knowing Hermione, she’d be worrying every moment of her Hogsmeade visits regardless. By extension, Ariadne worried about Ginny; Ginny was in no position to defend herself against a murderous maniac, not with her magic as thoroughly contained as it was. She could barely levitate a teacup, let alone defend Ariadne. Hopefully, she’d never have to even think about it.

On top of that, the ceiling was bugging her. The ceiling of the Great Hall had always been distracting, in its swirling, chaotically coloured cloudiness. Rolling over paid no benefit, for her sense didn’t care where she was facing, it was omnidirectional. Irritated, she pulled the blanket over her head, which left her in a complete darkness aside from her own magical core. Even that, however, wasn’t without its own flaws in physical comfort and she soon removed it. She’d just have to deal with the ceiling. Eventually, she noticed that Professor Dumbledore had returned to the Great Hall, and was standing in the centre of the room, waiting.

“I’ve searched the Astronomy Tower, and the Owlery, sir, but there’s nothing there,” Filch reported, slowly walking into the Hall with Flitwick, Snape and Lupin in tow.

“Third floor’s clear too, sir,” Flitwick added.

“Very good,” Dumbledore whispered as Snape loomed over.

“I’ve done the Dungeons, Headmaster, no sign of Black, nor anywhere else in the castle,” Snape said dryly.

“I didn’t really expect him to linger,” Ariadne heard Dumbledore reply, as he turned and Lupin stepped forward.

“Headmaster, Professor Sinistra and I have investigated Gryffindor Tower. Something is wrong here, all evidence we found indicated he went straight for the  _ boy’s  _ dormitory. It doesn’t make any sense.” Dumbledore turned sharply.

“Unless Black is less informed than we thought he would be, no, it doesn’t. Return to Gryffindor Tower. Filius, Argus, please go with him, verify his and Professor Sinistra’s findings.” The pair quickly left, leaving Dumbledore and Snape alone as they stepped slowly along the rows of mostly sleeping students.

“Remarkable feat, don’t you think?” Snape said, from behind Dumbledore as the pair got near to Ariadne and she tried to make her breathing as regular as possible. “To enter Hogwarts Castle on one’s own,  _ completely undetected _ ?”

“Quite remarkable, yes.”

“Any theories on how he managed it?”

“Many,” Dumbledore replied grimly. “Each as unlikely as the next.”

“You may recall…” Professor Snape started, ominously. “That prior to the start of term, I expressed concerns about your appointment of Professor-”

“Not a single Professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black to enter it,” Dumbledore said sternly, cutting him off. “No, I’m quite convinced that the castle is safe, and I’m more than willing to send the students back to their dormitories.” Ariadne frowned incredulously. Her face wasn’t toward the pair, as far as she remembered. Direction got a bit fuzzy for her sometimes, with the ability to sense in all directions. The castle, safe? Somehow, Ariadne took the same perspective as Severus Snape, that the castle was  _ most definitely not _ safe. She’d be glad of the privacy of her own bed, but she couldn’t agree with Dumbledore.

“And what about Granger? Should she be warned?” Snape asked, just as dryly. Ariadne couldn’t tell if the man was genuinely concerned for her well-being, or entirely unemotional.

“Perhaps, but for now, let her sleep,” Dumbledore replied, standing only a few feet from her. “For in dreams, we enter a world that’s entirely our own. Let her swim in the deepest ocean, or glide over the highest cloud.” Snape stepped to the side a little, turning to him.

“If in fact she  _ is _ asleep,” Snape said pointedly. “For a child plagued with nightmares and attacked by a Dementor this morning, the girl is… awfully quiet.” Ariadne sniffed slightly. “Hmph. Trouble sleeping, Miss Granger?” he added as Ariadne reluctantly rolled over, shrugging a little.

“How much of our discussion did you hear, Ariadne?” Professor Dumbledore asked, leaning down to her. Ariadne thought for a moment.

“All of it,” she replied. If she was unsure of Dumbledore’s ability to keep her safe, being dishonest to him would only further hamper his competence, she thought. “A-and I alre-re-re-ready know.”

“Know what?” Dumbledore asked as Ariadne sat up and he too sat on the floor beside her, while Snape loomed above.

“S-s-... th-th-th-th-that Si-Sirius Black is looking for me,” she replied. “Mister Weasley told me last week.”

“We suspect so, yes,” Dumbledore sighed as Ginny snored. “I suppose one cannot fault Mister Weasley for his initiative. What do you know about Black?”

“I know he was a Death Eater,” Ariadne mumbled, shrugging. “Killed a bunch of people, got sent to Azkaban for it?” Dumbledore shuffled his weight a little.

“In a nutshell,” Dumbledore said. “Obviously, like all of us, the man is more complicated, but that is all you need to know.” Ariadne nodded slightly, before she heard Snape shift his feet, facing more directly toward Dumbledore.

She wasn’t the best at reading social situations, particularly without her charm - her wand was over atop her guitar case - but Professor Snape didn’t usually do that,  _ especially _ not with Dumbledore. He had taken issue with something Dumbledore had said.

Dumbledore had been lying. Ariadne’s eyebrows flicked down briefly, as the cogs in her head began spinning on overdrive.

“All right, well, best you get some sleep. Good night, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, tapping her cheek, which she flinched at, and standing up. Ariadne begrudgingly laid back down, rolling onto her side.

There was something more to Sirius Black than Dumbledore was telling her. Something that pertained to her, almost certainly. Whatever it was,  _ Snape _ wanted to tell her, but Dumbledore did not. That was unprecedented to say the least, and did nothing to set Ariadne’s mind at ease.

It  _ had _ to relate to her parents. Outside of the deaths of Lily and James Potter, her only relevant unique trait was having resulted in Voldemort’s defeat, and this was not news to her nor anyone else in the wizarding world. Whatever it was, it was something she did not know about her own past, which was therefore  _ before _ their deaths.

Something during the war? Had the Death Eater held the Potters as a specific target, had he failed to kill them before Voldemort had been forced to do it himself? 

Snape and Dumbledore stopped halfway further down the Hall, but it seemed they had, like most, underestimated Ariadne’s ears.

“The girl deserves to know,” Snape hissed. “Headmaster, I must ask why you continue to keep it from her.” Once again, Ariadne was perplexed. It was  _ never _ Snape who took her side, the man seemed almost physically incapable of it on most days. She wasn’t even certain Snape was trying to be quiet, as she had to really try to catch Dumbledore’s stern reply.

“Here and now is not the time, Severus. We will discuss it at a later date, when she is not trying to sleep.” With that, Professor Dumbledore strode from the Hall, leaving Snape standing where he was and Ariadne struggling to sleep amid the Great Hall, beneath a distracting sky ceiling and the snoring of other students.

She smiled wryly, hearing Ginny snore gently as well. Even if she didn’t find peace in sleep, perhaps Ginny did.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter today, but I wasn’t about to artificially make it longer.


	88. Page 394

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ariadne realize the nature of Professor Lupin’s strange magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more days and my time is not taken up by VFX classes.

The next day, Ariadne had almost completely forgotten about her curiosities as she threw herself into Gryffindor’s gruelling practice for the rapidly approaching first Quidditch match of the school season that week. It was earlier that year than it had been either of her previous years, and would be Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. Hermione, Ron and Ginny had all come to watch, and sat in the stands covered by a tarp as the relentless rain pelted at them. Ron had wanted to go to the higher stands with their own cover, but not only was the cover inadequate, Hermione was entirely unwilling to ascend them with how strong the winds were as the towers creaked and swayed.

That week, it seemed, was destined to be stormy, as lightning rumbled distantly and the gale-force winds threatened to throw Ariadne off her broom had her grip been weaker. It was times like this when Ariadne knew to trust the broom to keep her steady - it didn’t always manage, but it was that trust that ensured she never fell.

She was, annoyingly, out of practice after the months of no Quidditch in her second year, and intercepting the Quaffle was once more a significant challenge. Eventually, Wood told her to ignore the Quaffle, and focus on catching the Snitch, something she had lost no skill in. Fred and George were to be as aggressive as possible in their aim, and to try to take out Hufflepuff’s Keeper, Herbert Fleet so that Hufflepuff would be forced to field a substitute.

It was nothing, however, compared to the training sessions of the next two days’ evenings. The weekend’s rain had indeed escalated, and it had brought with it thunder and even stronger winds, pelting hail and icy rain that cut at Ariadne’s face. She’d taken to wearing goggles, since it took conscious effort to keep her eyes closed. On top of that, her overstuffed schedule meant that she would experience an entire _week_ before the midweek game, not even including sleep breaks. At times, there were three versions of her walking around, and it took all of her memory to avoid herself. On one occasion, there were even two Ariadnes in the Hospital Wing alone, sleeping, having asked Madam Pomfrey to make sure they didn’t interact, while an earlier third took Arithmancy.

Hermione didn’t like it, to say the least. If it weren’t for Hermione’s anxiety, Ariadne would have bet her sizeable pocket money that she’d have hexed Oliver for the exhaustion her sister was experiencing. By nightfall, Ariadne had purple phantom Snitch glows to her sides as she slammed onto the mattress of her four-poster bed, hungrily pulling her blankets over herself as the rain hammered against the window beside it.

There was one last day before the match, she just had to get through it. That knowledge did nothing to help the full-body ache that was Ariadne Granger to pull herself out of bed, however. At least there were no elective subjects, she mused as she pulled herself, groaning, up from her bed. She frowned as she studied her own time travel log, trying to reverse engineer her sleep-deprived notes and figure out what time it was for her. After a few minutes as her foggy brain unclouded itself, she worked out that over the past two weeks, she had experienced almost a _month_ , no thanks to Oliver Wood.

That was not a calculation of clock time, she reminded herself, figuring out the virtual timezones and eventually coming to the conclusion that it was another seven hours before she needed to take her potions again. After blearily and wordlessly getting ready for the day, she made her way down to breakfast with Ron, Hermione and a concerned Ginny.

“Blimey, Ariadne,” Ron said as he finished a plate of sausages. “You look like a skeleton, no offense. Maybe you should just skip Defence today, you need a break.” Ariadne faced up at him performatively.

“ _What_?” she exclaimed. “Skip a class, are you serious?!”

“You can’t see yourself, your eyebags are bigger than Dumbledore’s!” Ron added. “Seriously, you need to rest.” Ariadne scoffed, yawning and returning to her breakfast as Ginny leant over to her brother.

“You’re talking to a Granger, Ronald. We both know they’d rather die than miss a class,” Ginny laughed, as Ron too guffawed.

“Rather die than be _expelled_ , I think was what Hermione said,” Ron replied sarcastically, smiling at Hermione.

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed. “I never said that!” she protested.

“Yes you did!” Ron laughed. “In first year, remember? After we met Fluffy,” he taunted as Hermione put her spoon down.

“I _said_ ‘or worse, expelled!’ I never said I’d _rather_ die!” Hermione cried, stimming anxiously with her feet under the table by quickly shaking them.

“How is that not the same thing?” Ron asked, throwing his arms up in confusion.

“Stop it, Ron,” Ariadne mumbled. “I’ve got enough of a headache without you bullying my sister,” she added grumpily.

“What- I am not!” Ron exclaimed, straightening up in his chair in indignation.

“We got enough of this stuff in primary school,” Ariadne grumbled. “We get it, we’re nerds. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to Defence,” she said, pulling her mercifully light bag onto her shoulder and striding from the Hall, quickly followed by Hermione, who had paused to anxiously deliberate whether she should abandon her food or not.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hermione said quietly and measuredly after a few minutes, as they approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, tapping her knuckles.

“I’m sorry, I just… ugh. Sorry,” Ariadne groaned, collapsing on herself. “II-I-I-I’m sorry I sprang that, I know you don’t like tension.”

“It’s all right, just… you need.... Um…” Hermione replied, clearly unsure of what to say as her scripts ran out and she twisted her hands to indicate she was thinking. “You er, you need to relax,” she finally said, hesitantly.

“I know,” Ariadne said as they entered the classroom and sat in their usual mid-room seats. “I’m sorry,” she added, shaking herself out of a wave of sleepiness and setting her bag down on the table. She was looking forward to their lesson on Grindylows, but wondered where Lupin had set the large - presumably glass - tank. It was nowhere to be seen in the classroom, and instead there was a complicated contraption behind the seats beside a lectern. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the machine.

“Looks like a projector. It has a lot of lenses and things at least. I think there’s a projector screen up… yeah, up there, sense?” Hermione replied, before pointing at the long thin bar hanging from the ceiling. That was odd. Lupin preferred to teach practically, and as far as Ariadne could remember - it having been almost a week since the other day’s Defence lesson for her - they’d be continuing their lesson on Grindylows.

“Yeah, I sense it,” Ariadne replied, yawning as the room began to fill with students. She tried to ignore Ron, who had sat down next to her in the next column of students, but looking away wasn’t exactly an option for her as she got out her books and put them down on the table in front of her.

Behind them, the door opened and closed. Oddly, it was not Professor Lupin who walked in, but Professor Snape who swooped in, striding purposefully down the chairs as his wand appeared in Ariadne’s sense and warbling shafts of light were flicked at the windows, slamming noises accompanying them. Swooping around at the front, Snape pulled the cord to release the screen, and turned as Ariadne cast the Blindsight Charm to capture him.

“Turn to page 394,” Snape said simply, face almost entirely unmoving, before he began slowly stepping down the room again to Ariadne’s right.

“ _Aurum_ ink,” Ariadne cast, the room vanishing as Snape approached. “Um, exc-xc-xcuse me sir?” Ariadne stammered. Snape’s footsteps stopped. “Where’s Professor Lupin?”

“That’s not really your concern, is it, Granger?” Snape sneered, before continuing down the row. “Suffice it to say, your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time,” he announced, as Ariadne made a face and blurred through the pages of her copy of _The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts_. “Turn to page 394,” Snape repeated, before tapping his wand against the machine which began to glow with blue and purple behind Ariadne. She frowned as she sensed what was printed on the page, just as an impatient Snape hucked another warbling yellow beam at Ron’s book.

“Werewolves?!” Ron exclaimed, echoing the sentiment Ariadne had been about to mention.

“But sir, we’ve just been learning about Boggarts and Grindylows,” Hermione called, turning to Snape. “We’re not meant to start nocturnal beasts for months,” she added.

“Quiet,” Snape ordered disdainfully as Hermione turned back away, seeming to shrink in on herself a little. “Now,” he called, stepping down the row again toward the invisible projected screen. “Which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?” Ariadne’s hand shot into the air, and from the sound of it, so had Hermione’s. “No-one?” Snape asked smugly, not having turned around. “How disappointing.”

“Please, sir. An Animagus is a person who _elects_ to turn into an animal. A _werewolf_ has no choice,” Hermione said, choosing to drop her hand. Ariadne hesitantly dropped her own as well. “With each full moon, when they transform, they no longer know who they are. They’d kill their best friend if they crossed their path,” Hermione continued. “Furthermore, the werewolf only responds to the call of its own kind.”

“Awoooooooooooooo!” cried Malfoy, as Crabbe and Goyle laughed. Malfoy seemed to be holding something, with similar purple magic to the Snitch but with green and gold to it as well.

“Thank you, Mister Malfoy,” Snape said dryly, before stepping forward. “That was the second time you have spoken out of turn Miss Granger, are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?” he asked cruelly. Hermione flinched back, her magic jumping a little as Ariadne scowled openly.

“Sh-sh-sh-she had her hand up!” Ariadne protested, her face going entirely red as she realized what she was doing. “You just… didn’t… look...” she trailed off as Snape stepped even closer.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Grangers,” Snape almost growled, turning around as Ron of all people suddenly moved. Behind her, the object Malfoy was holding fluttered into the air, gravitating toward Ariadne.

“They were right!” Ron exclaimed angrily as Snape spun to face him. “Just because you didn’t even look doesn’t mean they didn’t know!” Snape flicked his wrist to jab his wand at the floating object Malfoy had sent, a red burst causing it to catch fire and disappear.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley, for your gross impudence,” Professor Snape said, fury dripping from his voice as Ariadne faced Ron in surprise.

“Sorry about earlier,” Ron whispered as Snape turned away again. Ariadne smiled back at him, before turning back to the front as Snape continued speaking.

“As an antidote to your ignorance, and on my desk by Monday morning, two rolls of parchment on the werewolf, with particular emphasis on _recognizing it_ ,” Snape snarled as everyone else in the class groaned. Ariadne was fairly sure she would have no trouble, but it’d take adding several hours to her already complicated temporal plans, the same going for Hermione. Werewolves were so well known that even non-magical media was filled with them, she doubted that it’d be a difficult essay. “The term ‘werewolf’ is a contraction of the Anglo-Saxon word ‘ _wer_ ,’ which means ‘man,’ and ‘wolf,’ werewolf, man and wolf,” Snape began, stepping to his lectern where he probably had a book. “A werewolf is created when a subject is bitten by a werewolf in a transformed state. It is rare for a werewolf bite not to result in a lycanthropic infection, but can occur if the attack is interrupted quickly enough for insufficient werewolf saliva to enter the wound.”

\--

Ariadne slammed the textbook shut, her unseeing eyes wide as she re-read the textbook entry that evening - Hermione had been extraordinarily insistent that they put off starting the essay, something usually uncharacteristic if it weren’t for how much she was also insisting Ariadne rest before her Quidditch match - she’d even suggested going to the Hospital Wing in the morning in order to make sure she’d fully slept before her match and travelling back in time for it. Hermione jumped at the sound, turning to her.

“What is it?” Hermione asked curiously as Crookshanks leapt away from Ariadne to stand around Hermione’s legs. While Ariadne’s body may have been at rest, her mind was in overdrive as facts fell into place.

“ _Aurum Radia_. I just realized something,” Ariadne whispered to Hermione, drawing herself closer on the sofa as the rain outside picked up, tapping against the window. Ariadne mentally looked around, checking there was no-one else in the Common Room.

“I think I know what you’re talking about,” Hermione replied hesitantly. “ _A characteristic trait of an untransformed werewolf is his weakness and illness during the full-moon period_ , you checked the lunar chart, right?” Ariadne nodded, Snape’s dry words echoing in her mind. ‘ _Your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time._ ’

“Adjusted for 2003… it’s the full moon _now_ ,” Ariadne said, pulling over her calculations and pointing to them. “Professor Lupin is a werewolf,” she whispered, making sure nobody else could hear them. “ _That’s_ what I can see in his magic.” Hermione shuffled a bit, drawing closer.

“His Boggart was the moon too, I think. We can’t tell _anyone_ ,” Hermione hissed. “It would ruin his life.” Ariadne shook her head.

“No, it’d be like if Ron had outed me as trans when we told him,” she replied, shuddering before facing up again, her face going slack. “Snape _wanted_ us to find this,” she snarled, fury burning in her soul. She hadn’t _liked_ Snape before this, the man was an abusive individual who seemed to her like Vernon Dursley if the man had been smart. But this only lost him any and all respect she may have held for the man. “Particular emphasis on recognizing ‘it,’ remember? _It_ , bloody hell.”

“He’s… oh my god,” Hermione mumbled. “That’s disgusting. He’s trying to out Professor Lupin. Lupin would lose everything if anyone found out. We need to tell him what Snape did,” she said, standing. Ariadne pulled her back down by the sleeve. “Huh?”

“What-what-what time is it?” Ariadne asked pointedly. “If we’re right, he’s not in the castle right now. Besides, he’s got enough to deal with at the moment, any-with any luck no-one else will have noticed and he prolally already knows. _Aurum Radia_ ,” she said, accidentally slurring a word or two.

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP

Hermione span, cursing under her breath and running to the offending window, to the annoyance of a previously purring Crookshanks, where she pulled out her wand as she opened it. Torrential rain sounded through the Common Room as she hurriedly took what sounded like a package.

“ _Impervius_ ,” she said, casting a charm onto what had to have been an owl in the magic-lacking darkness. “You’re soaked, I hope you know where the Owlery is,” she added, closing the window and latching it. “Could you sense a spell on the owl, ‘Adne?” she asked as she came back to the sofa.

“No, nothing,” Ariadne replied curiously. Hermione’s face shrivelled up.

“You’d think whoever sent this would have put a water-repelling charm on it, they don’t do well in weather like this,” Hermione complained, sitting down. “This is for you, by the way,” she added, handing Ariadne the invisible package. It had probably been wrapped in paper at first, but the wind and rain had sundered the paper, leaving only a small wooden box.

Opening it, Ariadne sensed a small blob of green in it, accompanied by the tiniest of ticking noises. Reaching into it, her fingers met a piece of parchment, which she unfolded to reveal magical ink.

> _Ariadne Granger_
> 
> _I hope this package finds you well - please find enclosed the commissioned pair of 24-hour Braille watches. Each button’s function is described by further Braille on the sides, I hope it isn’t too small. In case it is, I have included a diagram under this letter._
> 
> _As requested, one watch is enchanted with the Time-Keeper Charm - given your magical sense, I trust you can tell which one. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has footed the remainder of the bill._
> 
> _On a light note, I might consider learning to use Braille myself - it seems it would be rather useful as, as I mentioned, my eyesight is deteriorating as well. I’ve contacted a few Muggle family friends about it._
> 
> _Yours warmly, N. Caville_.

Gasping happily, she recast the Blindsight charm to get a better ‘look’ at them. They were a little different than her designs, but luckily not as bulky. The faces were inset, with four sets of four small pins sticking up or down depending on what they indicated. It seemed Caville had forgone the numerical indicator or the unused bottom pair of dot slots, which at least must have helped cut down on face space. On each quarter was a raised section on the edge, smoother with a button on the sides, their descriptive one-word braille nicely not too small for her to ‘read.’

“Oh, your watches!” Hermione exclaimed. Ariadne smiled as she pulled out the enchanted one and strapped it onto her wrist.

“What time is it now for me…” Ariadne mused, gently feeling for what time the unenchanted watch was displaying. The pair were synched for the moment, but that was soon to change as Ariadne pulled her notebook over to check what time it was. “Four twenty-four in the afternoon, okay. Six hours back,” she muttered, feeling for the relevant buttons and pressing them, the braille pins clicking wildly. As she drew her finger across the unenchanted watch’s face to check it was correct - it was - Hermione leaned back, chuckling.

“I just realized something else,” Hermione groaned as Ariadne faced up at her, curiously. “His last name is Lupin. Like _Lupine_ .” Ariadne snorted as Hermione laughed again. “ _Remus_ Lupin.”

Ariadne collapsed in laughter at the coincidence of a werewolf being named, effectively, ‘wolfy son of a wolf.’ Perhaps it would be best not to say anything to Professor Lupin about that.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yet another little change!


	89. The Badger and the Lion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Quidditch game of the season doesn’t go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Dysphoria, flashbacks. Dementors are a bitch.

Ariadne was not entirely certain how she had been able to catch _any_ of Lee Jordan’s commentary, any of her team’s shouts or the roars of the crowd over the downpour that slid off her enchanted sports robes and had filled her ears with water, but she somehow had. This had without a doubt taken the cake as the filthiest game Ariadne had ever played in, both figuratively and literally. Even she had slid into the muddy ground a few times, thrown aside in terror from a lightning bolt so close she was worried about any physical contact with other players due to static. At least she wouldn’t be dehydrated.

“Yes!” she exclaimed as Katie hucked the Quaffle through the Hufflepuff hoop, the bell barely registering in her waterlogged ears as Lee congratulated her. That put them 40-0 up on Hufflepuff, who despite their similarly aggressive strategy to Gryffindor, had been unable to get past Katie, Alicia and Angelina, let alone Oliver. Oliver, from the sound of it, was having an excellent time despite the rain. If they kept their lead, it would go a long way toward winning Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup for the first time in nearly ten years, which Oliver thought would be a good way to end his tenure at Hogwarts. Annoyingly, the sheer amount of rain was so thick it obscured her magic-sense just as much as it did her counterpart and new Hufflepuff Captain Cedric Diggory’s eyesight, and she hungrily patrolled the pitch, tensely checking for Bludgers as she searched for the purple glimmer of the Snitch.

Her hair stuck up and she tensed, expecting lightning.

“Bang” was a word that could not in any sense contain the gigantic roar of thunder that split Ariadne’s eardrums as she veered away from the sudden flash of light even _her_ eyes could see, so close the thunder was synchronized with the flash, but it was the only word she could think of. Having become used to never even seeing the hint of sunlight at day she’d once enjoyed as a young girl, she hated nearby lightning. Her eyes couldn’t handle it. In that moment, she was intensely aware of how high up she was - and that anyone in the air in these conditions was a living lightning rod. 

A screaming Alicia Spinnet tumbled out of the rain-fog, hurtling past Ariadne toward the ground as she smelled smoke for but the briefest of moments.

“Oh my god! Gryffindor Chaser Alicia Spinnet, far too close to that last lightning strike as she tumbles to the pitch! It’ll take a second for Gryffindor to field their substitute, and for the moment Gryffindor is down a Chaser, but can Hufflepuff get a goal?” Lee Jordan exclaimed as Ariadne flew past the stand of students chanting _Go Go Gryffindor_ . “No, it seems they _cannot_ as Oliver Wood deflects yet _another_ throw from Macavoy!” The crowd suddenly groaned, before Gryffindor’s side cheered angrily. “OH! And just as he does, Hufflepuff Keeper Herbert Fleet falls from the sky as Fred - according to his jumper at least - Weasley smashes a Bludger right into him! Madam Pomfrey might have her hands full this afternoon!”

Ariadne punched the air triumphantly - finally, the Twins had done their job and forced Hufflepuff to field Michael McMannus, a Beater, as a substitute Keeper. She grinned evilly as she searched. It wasn’t just the Snitch she was looking for, as she rolled to avoid a Bludger, but Diggory as well. He probably had an advantage, she realized, as she was much larger in his eyesight than he was in her magic-sense which thanks to the torrent of rain was a significant problem for Ariadne. Seeing your counterpart was an essential practice, Diggory could go for the Snitch at any moment and she might not know until he’d caught it.

“And Angelina Johnson scores, another ten points for Gryffindor! This is not a good look for Hufflepuff’s new Captain, who only even joined the team this year after the mass exodus of the team’s school leavers last year. And thanks to the events heroically ended by Gryffindor’s very own White Eyed Wonder Ariadne Granger last term in the Chamber of Secrets, they barely had time to _assemble_ the team, let alone train them,” Lee called as Ariadne rounded to another quarter of the pitch, smiling lightly at his praise. That section of stands had come apart in the storm only two days beforehand, which was why the rest of the stands were so packed, with many of the cloth covers having been removed to allow more to stand in the stairwells of the towers to watch.

As such, it was _supposed_ to be empty. But it wasn’t. A single person, a core of green and brown, sat within. And sat was the word, they were far too low down to have been standing, not to mention how they’d gotten there without being seen or fallen to many broken bones.

Regardless, Ariadne couldn’t let herself be distracted by that, as she finally caught sight of Cedric Diggory, who was moving entirely too quickly for her comfort. As she suspected, a few dozen feet ahead of him and consistently keeping distance, was the glimmer of the Snitch. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the Nimbus 2000 she gripped into the fastest pace she could throw it into, chasing after Diggory as the Snitch jumped into a climbing trajectory. She was definitely gaining on Diggory, but she just couldn’t tell with the Snitch yet as they hastened up, leaving the pitch in the rain-fog darkness below, Ariadne only catching glimpses of the crowd in the stands behind her.

They were entirely too high up. The rain was fully falling onto her face, stinging as she pushed the struggling broom as fast as she could, before she was nearly right next to him.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

KA-THRUMMMMMMMMMM

Cedric yelped as he shot backward from the Snitch, which flickered and plummeted, as Ariadne’s eyesight went white for a split second. Ariadne barely avoided the boy, fairly sure her boot had clipped his robe, who fell behind toward the ground. Ariadne slammed herself into chase of the recovered Snitch, ascending yet even higher into the frigid skies.

She wondered if the people in the stands could see her. For some reason, she hoped they couldn’t, her skin crawling with shivers as it got ever colder, her arm outstretched for the Snitch, her heart slamming in her ears.

Or _was_ that her heart?

Her blood ran cold as, out from the rain-fog, came flashes. Flashes of void, of all-consuming hungry void. She tried to pull up as another, another, another appeared all around her, what she had thought had been her heart becoming Vernon slamming on the door to the cupboard as she screamed.

It was only when she was twenty feet from it, a Dementor in her face, latched onto her, her mind screaming at her that everything was wrong and she deserved punishment for daring to leave the house for so long, that she idly realized she’d let go of her broom and the previously strong connection between her and it had vanished.

Entirely.

The last thing her screaming mind could comprehend before it lost all coherent consciousness was that she was falling.

\--

“She looks a bit peaky, doesn’t she?” someone said.

“Peaky?! What do you expect?” That was a twin, she was certain of it. What? Where was she? What was she doing?

“She fell over a hundred feet! C’mon Ron, let’s walk you off the Astronomy Tower, see what you look like,” the other twin said.

“WAKE UP, BOY,” Vernon’s voice thundered in her ear as she shot up screaming for a moment, before pain split through her forehead and Ron doubled back, groaning, the sound of wood clattering on the ground surrounding the boy. Her magic sense was only just beginning to blur back into comprehensible colour as she was wrapped in a hug by Hermione. A few of the team, her classmates, and Ginny were standing around her, with Ron, Ginny and Hermione front and centre. Well, Ron on the floor, but quickly returning to front and centre after having caught Ariadne’s accidental headbutt.

Reality turning to her, helped along a little by the immediate headache from Ron’s skull drawing her back into it, Ariadne sunk, shaking and panting, into Hermione’s arms. She was in the Hospital Wing, lying on one of the beds.

“Probably look a bit like that!” Fred joked, pulling Ron back up.

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked into Ariadne’s ear. Ariadne shrugged.

“Will be,” she mumbled, as George stepped around to stand beside her. Behind Ginny, Ron and Fred were leaning over something, gathering wood it seemed.

“You gave us a right good scare there, girlie,” George told her as Hermione patted her back. Ariadne groaned a little as she sat up properly.

“Wh-whhhwhwhwhwhw-whw-whwhat happ-pp-p-ppened?” she managed to stammer out.

“You fell off your broom!” Ron exclaimed, standing back up.

“Huh…” she mumbled. That explained a lot. She remembered Dementors in the distance, but not much after. “Who won? Th-the match?” she asked, the memory coming back to her as she shuddered.

“Um, no-one blames you, ‘Adne,” Hermione quickly assured her, standing. “The Dementors aren’t supposed to come inside the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. As soon as he’d saved you, he sent them straight off.” Ariadne was surprised at his saving her, until she remembered the “fell over a hundred feet” bit. _Someone_ had to have.

“There’s uh, something else you should know too, Ariadne, um,” Ron added shakily. “When you fell, your broom, it… it sort of… blew into the Whomping Willow and… well.” As Ron moved slightly and Ariadne heard wood again, she knew exactly what Ron had been collecting from the floor, and her heart dropped. “It’s um, broken. Very broken, Hooch says it can’t be fixed.” She couldn’t even sense its magic.

Unbidden, her eyes screwed up and she bawled. Outside of the magic tutelage, Quidditch was about the only good thing she’d gotten from Hogwarts save Ron and Ginny, and now Dementors had ruined it and taken her broom from her. Hermione held her as she rocked on the bed, squeezing a ball of bedsheet in her knuckles.

\--

The weather had improved significantly by a few days later, and the four of them had decided to eat lunch outdoors that day. After learning that Cedric Diggory had offered a rematch, Ariadne had emphatically refused, despite Gryffindor having lost 150-50 thanks to her opponent having caught the Snitch before she’d hit the ground. Cedric had been apologetic, but Ariadne was resolute in the fact that had her fall been caused by a Bludger, the result would have and should stand. Cedric had won, and she congratulated Hufflepuff on the win for their new Captain.

Ariadne felt along the time on her exposed watch, and gulped down the two potions she needed to take, as she lounged in the sun that warmed her face on the picnic blanket they’d laid out. Above her, she heard something unfold.

“Umbrella,” Hermione said. “Just because you can’t _see_ the sun doesn’t mean you can’t get sunburnt.”

“Mmm! I love these pastries they’re doing now,” Ron called through a mouthful of what, logically, had to be pastry.

“You love _all_ pastries,” Ginny scoffed, sitting down beside Ariadne.

“Who doesn’t?” Ron asked, swallowing. “I should ask Mum if she can show me how to make a danish, they’re _good_!” he added as Ariadne cast the Blindsight charm.

“Oh y-yeah, you’ve been learning to cook haven’t you?” Ariadne asked. “Those cookies you made me in July were good!” Ron smiled.

“They were all right, but no-where near as good as Mum’s,” Ron replied, batting away an insistent Crookshanks as he put the strangely glimmering shape that was Scabbers back in his coat. “It’s actually more fun than I realized it would be. Oh, hello Professor!” Ariadne whipped around the shadow of the umbrella and tree that loomed behind her to reveal the magical core of one Professor Remus Lupin.

“Hello there, Mister Weasley, oh and Miss Weasley, Grangers! Lovely day out, isn’t it? Mind if I sit?” he asked gently, as Ariadne recast her charm. The lycanthropic fungus within his magic was stronger than usual, thanks to the full moon period. “I find the fresh air nice when I’m not feeling so good,” he added, setting what Ariadne realized was a walking stick down as Hermione shifted snacks to make room for him on the blanket. “It isn’t contagious, it’s a chronic thing, you needn’t worry,” he added, sitting down with some slight grunts.

“Sleeping okay, Professor?” Hermione asked, concernedly. Lupin smiled, laughing a little.

“No, but let’s be honest, what Professor does?” he said. “I’m sorry to hear about your broomstick, Ariadne, is there no chance of fixing it?” he asked. Ariadne shook her head, taking the small piece of wood she’d kept out of her pocket.

“No. Completely ruined,” Ariadne said wryly. “Bloody Dementors.” Lupin hummed agreeingly.

“Bloody indeed. I was there when the Willow was planted,” he sighed. “Pity, it was a good game while it lasted. To them, you’re like a five-course meal with champagne and garlic bread on the side, I suppose. You’re an interesting case, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“How so, Professor?” Ariadne asked, tilting her head. Lupin leant over and took a biscuit.

“You have a peculiar life you’ve lived. You have an abundance of both true horrors in your past and yet also joy,” Lupin said, waving his arm toward Hermione. "You aren’t weak in any way, I should stress, you have nothing to be ashamed of. But you have enough joy to feed them well, and enough trauma to make sure you don’t fight back while they feast. Bon appetit,” he said, thoughtfully as the Blindsight charm faded.

“I-I I can’t avoid them,” Ariadne mumbled. “Is there a way to fight them?” she asked, more resolutely. “You made the one on the train go away, you could teach me?”

“There was only one that night,” he replied, his voice unsure. “I don’t pretend to be an expert, Ariadne, but as the Dementors seem to have developed a particular interest in you, perhaps I should teach you,” he added. “But not now, after the holidays. This,” he pointed to himself, “doesn’t go away quickly and tends to return regularly, and my schedule is rather full for the moment. After the holidays, I’ll teach you the Patronus Charm. Or try to, anyway. It’s exceptionally difficult spellwork for a thirteen year old.”

“Can we come too?” Hermione asked eagerly, bouncing. Lupin sniffed in joy.

“Oh, why not? You’re all invited. Ginny, you might just have to know the theory, I don’t believe it’ll work with that bracelet.” Ginny slumped, her smile disappearing. “However, if I am still your Professor when it’s no longer needed, I’d be happy to teach it to you,” he added, which Ginny perked up a bit at. “Well, I’ll leave you to your lunch. Good day girls, Mister Weasley.” With that, Lupin stood, leaning on his cane a lot as he started walking away. Ariadne got up, excusing herself quickly.

“Professor Lupin?” she asked, half-jogging to catch up with him. “Can I talk to you, for a second?”

“Of course, of course,” Lupin replied, leading her out of earshot. “What can I do for you, Ariadne?”

“A-actually, more what I can do for you,” Ariadne replied, wringing her hands a little as Lupin turned to her.

“Go on?” he asked, bemused, stopping and leaning on his cane by another tree.

“Um, I th-th- I thought you should know, Hermione and I know. That you’re a er, a werewolf,” she said quietly, mentally sensing around to check for anyone who might be listening. Lupin drew back, jumping. “We’re not going to tell anyone,” she added quickly. “I can-I can-I can see it anyway, it’s like blue roots in your magic.”

“I was wondering if you could,” Lupin muttered. “Snape?” he sighed. Ariadne nodded. “And who else knows?”

“Nobody, that we know of,” Ariadne replied, shaking her head. “I don’t think anyone’s started it yet. The essay, I mean.”

“Oh, shit, um…” Lupin swore under his breath. “Tell you what, don’t worry about the essay and spread the word they don’t have to write it. With any luck, they’ll forget all about Severus’ little stunt.” Ariadne nodded.

“I will. Um, if it means anything, I-I know what it’s like. To have a secret that can get you hurt like that,” she said, slurring her words. “Snape was trying to out you, we can’t let him do that.” Lupin nodded.

“I suppose you would, yes,” he mused. “I never thought about it like that. Unexpected solidarity is always a pleasant surprise, thank you for your discretion, Ariadne.” Ariadne nodded.

“Y-you’re-you’re welcome, Professor Lupin. Um, I’ll go let everyone know they don’t have to do the essay, have a nice walk,” she replied, starting off with her heart warm and a smile on her face. Ron took the news well, sighing with relief that he didn’t have to write two scrolls on werewolves, although Hermione performatively pretended to be disappointed. Hermione, if she had been genuine, would have been the only one as word got out and the third-years relished the return of their weekend time.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having a lot of fun planning third year, I think y’all will enjoy the next bunch of chapters.


	90. A Normal-Ish Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Ariadne has a normal life. Except for the time travel, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I being nice? Am I standing around the corner with a bat? You don’t know! Mwahahahahahahaaha!

Sitting in the study hall under supervision of Professor Flitwick, along with various other students mostly in higher years, Ariadne was finding her calculations annoyingly problematic for what she had thought was a simple addition to her  _ Lumos Astra _ modifier. More variable controls over spread, size and even pattern were on her agenda, the first two logically falling under the same scripting and so to be done at the same time. However, her twelve-year-old self had made some rather sloppy decisions while making the modifier, and she was seriously considering remaking it from scratch.

The problem was in the script that distributed the ‘stars’ and decided on their drifting movements. It just wasn’t designed to handle a set of variables and it was so convoluted she had to reverse-engineer her own designs just to figure out how it worked.

In the weeks since her loss of both the match with Hufflepuff and her Nimbus 2000, Hogwarts had slowly gone from torrential rain to a surprisingly pleasant snowfall which interfered with training far less as she used an infuriatingly slow spare Shooting Star broom to practice. The gentle crackle of warm fires filled the halls as did their warmth, which the exhausted Girl-Who-Lived appreciated immensely. Her new watches had been incredibly useful, and had allowed her to more effectively allocate her time - as well as knowing exactly when she needed to take her potions, especially as she and Hermione weren’t always in sync on Saturdays. Beside her, Ginny sat, leaning over the parchment - guarding her, as promised to Hermione, while the latter and Ron visited Hogsmeade. Hermione and Ron hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade until the afternoon, though, staying with Ariadne since Hermione had music anyway - Hermione had begrudgingly followed the linear flow of time for it to make sure Ron and Ginny didn’t work anything out. Ginny, who had met Ariadne at Gryffindor tower after Music, had appeared curious when Ariadne had had the Blindsight Charm up, but that had been a little while ago.

“So what are you trying to do?” Ginny asked, straightening a little before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d brought with her from lunch. Although, after twenty minutes, it was probably just lukewarm chocolate.

“Hmm? Oh, I-I I-I-I-I made this last year, I’m adding to it,” Ariadne replied, facing Ginny as she wrote.

“Oh, that’s weird to watch,” Ginny chuckled. “You don’t even have to be looking.” Ariadne smiled. “What’s the spell?”

“Oh!” Ariadne realized she hadn’t shown Ginny the spell with a start. “ _ Lumos Astra _ ,” she cast dramatically, swirling her wand above them as a field of stars faded into view above them as Ginny gasped.

“That’s so cool!” Ginny exclaimed, almost knocking over the guitar leaning beside her. “Can I try?” she asked, pulling out her wand.

“ _ Nox _ .” The ‘stars’ faded as Ariadne flicked her wand. “Sure. Lumos Astra.” Ariadne set her pen down and turned to her, smiling. Ginny cleared her throat and took a deep breath, then another.

“ _ Lumos Astra _ !” she cried, aggressively flicking her wand, her magic  _ just  _ flaring through the purple sheen around it as her voice rang through the study hall and a second field of stars hesitantly faded into existence above them. Most of the pinpricks of light sputtered and died fairly quickly, but those that remained flickered gently.

“You-yours twinkle,” Ariadne smiled as Ginny slumped a little.

“They flicker, you mean,” Ginny groaned.

“Same thing,” Ariadne replied. “I think it’s pretty.”

“I can barely see them!” Ginny added. “I can barely cast Lumos,” she muttered. Ariadne put a hand on her shoulder, unable to place why her heartrate had ascended.

“ _ I  _ can see them,” she assured her. “Besides, there’s fires so I imagine it’s pretty bright in here. Maybe it’s just too bright for you to see them,” she added. “Y-yoyyy--yyy-you’re doing really well, you know that right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _ Aurum Radia _ . Gin-Ginny, you’re twelve and you’re magic’s suppressed,  _ but you can still cast spells _ . That’s amazing! Just because you can ‘barely’ see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” she implored, revealing Ginny’s glum face. The girl looked up at her, her eyes a bit wider.

“You mean that?” she asked quietly. Ariadne nodded. “Thanks,” Ginny sniffed, blinking at her and smiling. “So what’re you adding to it?” Returning to her work, Ariadne ran through explaining what the spell did and how - Ginny was nodding along for as long as the Blindsight charm was up, but she was very open about not quite getting it. 

“It’s really cool,” Ginny said as they ascended the stairs toward the Gryffindor Common Room. “You’re really clever, ‘Adne,” she mumbled. Ariadne felt her face go redder than she was told Ginny’s hair was.

“I’m not-I’m not-I’m not  _ that _ clever,” she stammered, facing away and grinning like a fool.

“Yeah you are!” Ginny exclaimed, poking her arm. “You made your own spell for Merlin’s sake.”

“It’s not a  _ full _ spell,” Ariadne protested. “It’s only a modifier.  _ Aurum Radia _ .” Beside her, Ginny doubled over laughing.

“What spell was that, huh? The one you helped design? Huh? You’re really clever, Ariadne,” she cackled.

“Shut up,” Ariadne mumbled, unable to keep a smile from her face as Ginny gently pushed her sideways, giggling. “You’re-you’re clever too, you can paint.” Ginny smiled, looking away.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “Hey um, what do I look like to you?” she asked as they got nearer to Gryffindor Tower and Ariadne was surrounded by the paintings of the great staircase chamber.

“Um, I can only see your shape, all blue?” Ariadne replied, curiously.

“No, I mean me. You said people have colours, what are mine like?” Ginny clarified, stopping. Ariadne stopped as well, a stair ahead.

“Oh. You’ve got yellow and blue splotches, as well as sort of… transparent red patches?” Ariadne replied. “Why?”

“You’ll see. Or, sense,” Ginny replied, climbing toward the painting door. “And what colour is this?” she added, holding up her right hand and the suppression bracelet that dangled from her wrist.

“Purple,” Ariadne replied. “Light purple though, it’s weird.” Ginny hummed as she stepped up to the doorway.

“Flibbertigibbet,” Ginny said as she approached, and the Fat Lady’s portrait swung outward. Ariadne was glad not to be alone, that password was murder for her stammer. “Thanks for that, ‘Adne!” she called, running in and quickly vanishing up the stairs. Unsure what Ginny was up to, Ariadne stepped over to the sofa.

“Hey ‘Adne!” Hermione called from beside Ron. “How was spell-making?”

“It was good!” Ariadne replied, setting her guitar case down and sitting. “I can’t figure out some of the math but I’ll try again next week,” she sighed. “How was Hogsmeade?”

“It was nice,” Ron replied. “Cold though.”

“I made a snowman!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly. “I made a snowman,” she repeated, bouncing on the sofa and smiling as she waved her hands.

“Was actually a pretty good snowman,” Ron said. “Oh yeah, we got you sweets again,” he said, tossing her a small bag. Ariadne smiled as she smelled inside it, before feeling for and eating one of the honey-flavoured candies that were her favourites. “I gotta go pee,” Ron added, standing and jogging up the stairs. Hermione immediately bent over, groaning.

“What’s wrong?” Ariadne asked, concerned. “Too many sweets?”

“Period,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “They’re not… regular or that bad yet, but they’re more frequent because of the time travel,” she groaned. “I’m gonna go get a hot water bottle,” she said, also taking her leave. As she went upstairs, she squeezed by Ginny, who upon Ariadne casting the Blindsight Charm was revealed to be carrying her easel, a canvas and her paints under her arms awkwardly, before she set up a short ways from Ariadne. Ariadne, meanwhile got out her guitar. She’d learnt a  _ lot _ since her first lesson with the impressed Professor Flitwick, and had started to dig into the ringbinder Hermione had given her. Some of the songs had been far too advanced, but she’d been working on one of her oldest favourites, one of the first songs she’d ever listened to.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink,” she said, flipping pages to the right one. “Okay, F Major,” she muttered as Ginny began draping her brush over the canvas. The gently murmuring Common Room was filled with the soft tones of her guitar as Ron came back, squeaking as he went to say something but realized Ariadne was playing.

As she finished the intro to the song, Hermione came back with the noisy hot water bottle, and gasped as Ariadne softly began to sing.

“ _ Ground Control to Major Tom _ …” she sang, pausing to switch between the C chord and an E minor before back to C. “ _ Ground Control… to Major Tom _ .” She paused, missing her place for a moment. “ _ Take your… _ ” Ariadne switched between the A minor to G. “... _ protein pills and.. Put your helmet on _ ,” she sang slightly louder.

“Ten,” Hermione began counting down, as Ariadne smiled.

“ _ Ground Control to Major Tom _ .”  _ C, E, C _ , she recited internally as she jumped her fingers between the two.

“Eight… Seven… Six” Hermione continued. The counting was actually helping her stay on beat, funnily enough.

“ _ Commencing countdown, engine’s on _ .” 

“Three… Two…”

“ _ Check ignition, and may god’s love be with you! _ ” Ariadne sang, her voice getting more confident even if she occasionally messed up strums and they sounded stubby. Hermione clapped as Ariadne paused, before stopping as soon as Ariadne’s fingers hit string again. “ _ This is Ground Control to Major... Tom. You’ve really made the grade, and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear. Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare! _ ” She winced as her voice was a little deeper than she’d have liked at the last line and she struggled to switch her finger to press down on all of the strings for the bar F chord, but pushed on as Ginny bobbed along to the music.  _ C _ , she thought. “ _ This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I’m stepping through the doo-oor! And I’m floating… in a most pec-uliar way-ay! And the stars look very different today! _ ”

She relaxed, setting the guitar down. That was as far as she’d learned, but she was very proud of herself. Her fingers were a little bit shorter than suited the guitar itself, which she tended to overcompensate for with her elbow, which Flitwick urged against getting too used to, otherwise she might put too much strain on her shoulder.

Someone was clapping. A flick of her wand and a whispered incantation revealed it to be Ginny. And Hermione. And Seamus, and Ron, and Dean, and Sally-Anne. She hadn’t noticed how silent the room had gone while she’d been playing, and she shrunk in on herself as the room became a gentle patter of applause and Ginny cheered.

“Woo! That was great!” Ginny said, after setting her palette and brush down on a table and coming over. “What song was that?”

“S-s-s-s-s-sps-sps-sps-spspspsp-Space Oddi-oddi-oddity by David Bowie,” Ariadne replied. “It was the first song the foster gave me to listen to after they took me away from my relatives,” she added happily.

“Huh, that’s nice,” Ginny said quietly. “What’s it about, who’s um.. Major Tom?” she asked, sitting down as Ariadne put the guitar back in its case.

“Um, it’s about an-an astronaut.” Ginny tilted her head at that, confused. “A person who goes to space.”

“Like the moon men?” Ginny asked. “Dad says Muggles have been to the Moon on big boats.” Hermione laughed.

“They’re not really like boats, they’re spaceships. The actual ship is tiny, it’s the rocket that’s big. That’s the big bit full of fuel that gets left behind once they’re in space,” Hermione replied. Ariadne nodded.

“Yeah. This one isn’t real, Major Tom is just a character. The story is that he goes to space and feels lonely, far away from Earth. The song doesn’t say where he’s going.”

“Hmmm,” Ginny mused, thinking, before leaning over the book. “That gives me an idea,” she said as she shuffled back over to her easel, and squeezed out a previously unopened tube of paint. “What colour’s my wand, Ariadne?” she called hurriedly, holding it up.

“Red, it’s dragon heartstring,” Ariadne replied. “Why?” Ginny shooed her question away as she set to work.

\--

“So, what is it?” Ariadne asked teasingly as Ginny finally called them over to her corner after refusing to let anyone see the work in progress painting all evening until it was done. Running a finger along her watch, it was almost eleven o’clock at night and Ginny had barely eaten at dinner, seized as it were by inspiration as she feverishly put brush to canvas.

“Tada!!” Ginny exclaimed, stepping back as she turned the easel for Hermione and Ron to see it. Hermione gasped as Ron inhaled sharply. “Would you, um,” Ginny mumbled to Hermione, who held the recently refreshed hot water bottle to her belly, tilting her head to Ariadne.

“Um.. okay, yes,” Hermione muttered, seemingly shocked. “Okay, um. It’s on a black background, and at the bottom is a bunch of purple chains. They’re holding onto a.. a person, but the person is yellow, blue and red.” Hermione frowned. “They’re holding a red wand up out of it and there are… stars? Stars coming from the wand and up into the top of the painting,” Hermione continued, as Ginny nodded. “And on the side, in white, it says  _ And the Stars Look Very Different Today _ .”

“That’s the title,” Ginny told them excitedly, smiling as Ariadne’s mouth hung open.

“Is this you, Ginny?” Hermione asked concernedly, pointing to the painting as Ariadne thought for a moment and pulled out her wand.

“ _ Aurum  _ black paint,” she said, and the silhouette of the painting came into view. Just as Hermione had described, a cone of simply shaped chains stretched up toward the central figure, a person angled as if treading water but holding up a wand. From the wand, dots empty of black paint spread out to mirror the chains, in a way, and the title, in slightly messy handwriting, stood out on the person’s left. Ginny nodded.

“Yeah. These are this,” she added, pointing to the chains with her braceleted arm.

“And the stars?” Hermione asked. Ginny pulled out her red-glowing wand and inhaled slowly.

“ _ Lumos Astra _ !” Ginny exclaimed, pointing her wand into the air, somewhat akin to the painting’s pose. Once again, specks of light faded into Ariadne’s magic sense, but more powerful this time as Ginny’s magic flared. More of the stars stayed, and flickered less as they did. “Ariadne’s spell. She can see it a bit more than we can, this is.. this is based on what Ariadne can see.”

Ariadne didn’t quite know what to think, and from their silence and faces, neither did Hermione or Ron. Ginny looked between them quickly.

“Oh no no no, it’s not meant to be sad!” Ginny exclaimed, laughing slightly. “It’s meant to be happy. I mean, I may be held back by this,” she assured them, holding up her bracelet, “but I can still do magic. I just have to try.” Ariadne smiled, feeling a hell of a lot better about what had been described to her - for a moment, she’d been exceptionally worried about Ginny’s mental health. She still was, a little, but at least the painting was meant to be one of hope. Ron sighed with relief.

“Bloody hell, Gin, you scared me,” he marveled. Ginny laughed.

“Yeah, I can see why. Hang on, I’ll add something to it,” she said, picking up her palette and beginning to dab paint onto it again. By the time she’d finished, which was at least twenty minutes later, she described to Ariadne a bright white star at the tip of the wand, which she’d meant to be a bit more prominent than the chains so it looked like it was more the focus of the image. It didn’t quite work in Ginny’s opinion, failing to offset the depressing impression of the image, but Hermione and Ron said it made it look happier. Ariadne would have to take their word for it.

\--

Just as they were getting ready for bed, there was a knock at the doorway of the third-years’ dorm. Ginny came through the archway, and quickly shuffled over to Ariadne’s bed where she was standing.

“Ginny?” Ariadne said, yawning. “What is it?”

“I um, I wanted you to have this,” Ginny replied, holding something out. Ariadne renewed the Blindsight charm to reveal Ginny offering her the large canvas - the painting. Ginny was in her pajamas, with baggy trousers. However, they seemed in a bit better condition than her brothers’. No hand-me-down girls’ pajamas around in the Weasley household, Ariadne supposed.

“Um, the painting?” Ariadne asked. “I can’t see it.”

“That’s okay,” Ginny said. “You know what it is, and what it’s about. I made it for you, you’ve been so nice to me and... yeah,” she explained, looking away. Ariadne smiled, her cheeks feeling like they’d gone pink.

“Oh, uh, th-thank-thank you,” Ariadne stammered, hesitantly taking hold of the painting. “Um,” she mumbled, searching around for a place to put it. She settled on her dresser, carefully sweeping her things forward slightly to lean the painting on the wall behind it. “Um, good night, I guess?” Ginny nodded.

“Yeah, um, you too. Good night, ‘Adne,” Ginny replied, before hurriedly jogging from the room. Ariadne smiled at the latest decoration to her little nook, and left the curtain to her bed open a tiny sliver. The charm soon faded and she couldn’t sense the painting anymore, but the thought was there as she smiled to herself. Ginny didn’t give herself enough credit for how nice she was to her, she thought. Ron joked about being replaced, but if he didn’t pick up some slack, well... 

She was joking with herself. Probably.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t actually know how to play the guitar or any instrument so I had to confer with a friend who knows how music do for this.


	91. Shopping and Snowballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With some help from Professor McGonagall, Ariadne is able to accompany her peers to Hogsmeade a couple of weeks before the Christmas holidays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna work on this more the day after I published “A Normal-Ish Life” but I did a bunch of planning and now have fairly concrete plans until well after Deathly Hallows.  
> My planning document is 22 pages and 15,000 words long. And will get longer. Good god.  
> TW: Homophobia, Transphobia: Deadnaming, bullying.

“Now, you  _ are  _ aware that this is a significant privilege you are being extended, yes?” Professor McGonagall reminded Ariadne as she led her up the stairs to the staff room. “The Hogwarts Floo is a highly regulated staff-only resource, and this privilege will not be extended again.” Ariadne could hear the ever so hushed undertones of warmth in McGonagall’s voice, and while she nodded respectfully she suspected she’d be able to gently push it if she needed to. Ariadne, Hermione and Ron were following along like a gaggle of puppies, all bundled up in jumpers, scarves and beanies after just having come from Music and dropping off Ariadne’s guitar in Gryffindor Tower.

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Ariadne replied. “Only for today.” McGonagall nodded.

“Good,” McGonagall added, opening the door and ushering Ariadne, Hermione and Ron into the staff room where Professor Flitwick was waiting. It was a pleasant room, as Ariadne quickly cast the Blindsight Charm, and was grateful she had as she avoided tripping on a rug. There were a dozen leather chairs and sofas lining the room, with small tables and a kitchen setup at one end with what, based on its shape and slight enchantment, appeared to be a sort of coffee machine. There was also a blackboard of some description, and a few filing cabinets. “Ah, Filius. Best be quick, we don’t want to keep the Spell-Making workshop waiting,” Professor McGonagall said, winking at Ariadne. “Come on, in, in,” she urged, stepping into the tall fireplace and batting at their shoulders to get them all huddled within. “Whenever you’re ready, Filius,” McGonagall told Flitwick, taking a handful of Floo Powder and ensuring the three were all holding hands in a chain with her. Flitwick stepped beside the fireplace, tapping it with his wand and whispering something, a wave of orange magic threading through it as he stepped back. The Floo was normally locked, and had to be unlocked by a member of staff.

“It’s all yours, Minerva,” Flitwick told her.

“My thanks, Professor Flitwick. Oh, and if you could be here after Spell-Making, I’ll need you to let us in; one probably shouldn’t give them the password.”

“Will do. I’ll see you later, keep practicing that chorus and solo, Ariadne,” Flitwick said, stepping back. Ariadne nodded, smiling as she shuffled on the spot.

“All right, let’s be off,” McGonagall announced. “The Three Broomsticks,” she said clearly, dropping the Floo powder and enveloping them for but a split second in the strange blazing web that was the Floo Network before it all vanished around them, as they stood in what must have been the Three Broomsticks Pub.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne mumbled, revealing to her the multi-leveled main room of the Three Broomsticks. Magic people sat all abound as they stepped out, as well as a number of magical objects all over the room, painting it in kaleidoscopic colours. She couldn’t help but feel watched, having just appeared into a room full of strangers.

“All right, Weasley, Grangers. I have some business to attend to,” McGonagall told them, leaning down slightly as she led them toward the door, past the rickety-looking staircase. “I will meet you back here at 4:30, to take you back. Yes?”

“Yes Professor!” Ariadne replied, beaming. “Thank you, Professor!”

“It’s no trouble, Miss Granger. The shrunken heads know to let you in to see me, I trust none of you will have trouble,” she said. “Now, you three go have fun. Ah!”

“Professor McGonagall!” exclaimed someone standing fairly closeby jovially, revealed to be standing atop a carriage.

“Cornelius!” McGonagall replied, stepping closer and passing someone hammering something circular to the roof.

“Allow me, Minister,” an unexpected Hagrid said, leaning down and pulling the door of the carriage clean off before making a noise. Minister? Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic?! “Sorry about that.”

“Rosmerta, dear, I hope business is good!” Cornelius called, stepping over something on the ground as the person hammering stepped off a ladder.

“It’d be a  _ lot better _ if the Ministry weren’t sending Dementors into my pub every other night!” Rosmerta replied angrily, shaking the hammer at him as she approached, intimidating the man back into whatever it was he’d stepped over. From the sound it released as the trio stood in the doorway awkwardly, it was horse dung.

“We have… we have a killer on the loose!” Cornelius added, stepping over.

“Ugh, Sirius Black in Hogsmeade?” Rosmerta scoffed. “And what would bring ‘im here?” Cornelius leant toward Rosmerta, before stopping in his tracks.

“Ariadne Granger, it must be!” he cried, turning to Ariadne, who jumped. “I had so hoped to meet you. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the Girl Who Lived,” Fudge said, offering his hand which Ariadne took, smiling awkwardly.

“A-and you, Minister,” she replied. “Wh-wh-wha-wha-what brings you to Hogsmeade today?” she asked.

“Oh, personal business, can’t talk, you know how it is. I must apologize for the Dementors Madam Rosmerta here so diligently derides, I hear they’ve caused you trouble. Hopefully, the situation with Sirius Black will be resolved soon, worry not, Miss Granger. The Ministry has it under control” Ariadne nodded, smiling wryly. “Must dash, so sorry. I’d love to sit down with you at some point, I must say your views on magical society are intriguing. Alas. Farewell, Miss Granger, have a good day!” Fudge lamented, ushering Rosmerta and Professor McGonagall into the pub. Ariadne frowned a little at the slight tone of disdain in the word ‘intriguing,’ that had managed to slip through his veneer of professionalism.

“Four-thirty, remember!” McGonagall called as she entered and the trio walked away, Ariadne holding a thumb up.

“We should go to Honeydukes! There’s so many types of sweets we never got to get you, they’ve even got a blood-flavoured lollipop!” Ron exclaimed as Ariadne jumped back.

“Blood-flavoured?!” Ariadne asked wildly, her eyes wide as snow tickled her cheeks.

“They’re not actually that bad, taste a bit weird though,” Ron replied, kicking through snow as Ariadne flipped it up in the air. It was the first time she’d properly been in snow without her cane, and she was enjoying being able to tell where it was easily as she hesitantly jumped and was greeted by surprisingly sure footing. To Honeydukes it was, as Ariadne happily skipped through the snow. Carol singers lined some of the streets, and decorations lined the rooves, Christmas season in full swing. 

Soft, cold flakes met her face as she tripped and her front was met with a snowdrift, the whole world suddenly behind her.

“Oof!” she cried, slamming into it and her face stinging with ice before she rolled over, grinning and laughing.

“Woah, you okay?” Ron exclaimed, leaning down as Ariadne cackled.

“Yeah, I’m good!” she said, sitting up and shaking snow off her face. “Come on!” she exclaimed, jumping up and spinning about excitedly. Finally reaching Honeydukes Sweet Shop and Blindsighting it, Ariadne wasn’t sure if she liked the shop  _ itself _ , but she certainly liked its products. It was cramped, partially due to how many other students were there like Neville, Dean and Seamus standing around a contraption by the door, Dean reaching into it eagerly from a stool. The floorspace was largely obscured by several square cases which, based on the students standing around them, contained displays of some kind within glass. Claustrophobic was the word, but it wasn’t so bad. She was genuinely surprised, however, to know Hermione wasn’t even anxiously stimming from the noisy, presumably colourful, environment. She was bobbing a little, which was usually a good sign.

“Oh, Ariadne!” Neville said. “I thought you didn’t come here because of the Dementors?”

“M-McGonagall Floo’d us,” Ariadne replied. “Just for today. What’s that you’ve got there, Dean?” she asked, as Dean leant back from the machine and it stopped whirring.

“Cotton candy! If you go up the counter, you can get tokens,” Dean replied, eagerly holding up what was probably the stick he’d been gathering it with - Ariadne had only caught the stick, but the cloud of fluff was partially obscuring the magic behind it. “There’s so many flavours!”

“We’re… we’re doing Christmas shopping so I don’t know if I can afford it but I’ll keep it in mind!” Ariadne replied, smiling as she stuck to Hermione, smelling the extensive range of sweets whose names she’d never heard before. There were animated magical sweets lining shelves and racks, chocolate frogs nothing compared to the candy dragons that flew around the store. After spending surprisingly few sickles on sweets and cotton candy, they gladly hopped down the main street of Hogsmeade as kids pelted each other with snowballs and the sound of cheers filled the air as someone sledded past. To Ron’s perplexment, Ariadne shooed him off as they found themselves outside of Dervish and Banges, the instrument store Hermione had told her about.

“Nope, you’re waiting outside. It’ll ruin the surprise,” Ariadne said as Hermione looked at her confusedly.

“But it’s cold!” Ron protested. Ariadne glared at him. “Oh fine, I’ll build a snowman or something,” he mumbled as Hermione led Ariadne in.

“All right. Where were they?”

\--

With her surprisingly inexpensive purchase in her bag, Ariadne was glad to finally be heading toward the outskirts of town, into the woods and toward the Shrieking Shack. Geographically, it stood atop a knoll nestled between the mountains, surrounded by what could have been a moat if there were water in it.

Stepping down the snowy bank cautiously, Ariadne soon caught up with her sister and friend, who were standing far closer to what was revealed to be a barbed wire fence, an open space to the right of their position, marked with what looked like a collection of pinecones, chains and various trinkets meant to look mystical. In truth, there was absolutely no magic to them.

What was magical in some slight way, was the Shrieking Shack itself, however the structure was not magical. It was mundane, if crooked in the distance, but there were very slight tinges of magic coating some of the boarded windows. They were, however, a little too far away for her to tell which colours they were distinctly, especially with the Blindsight charm covering them.

“We never got to come here before,” Hermione said as Ariadne approached and she turned back to the Shrieking Shack. “It’s meant to be the most haunted building in Britain,” she added, before looking down slightly. “I mentioned that already, didn’t I?”

“Twice,” Ron replied, smiling.

“Sorry,” Hermione replied. “I always forget.”

“I don’t see any ghosts or signs of ghosts,” Ariadne mused, stepping closer to the gate. “And these are purely decorative,” she added, touching the collection of dangling pieces as they clattered in the wind.

“Do you want to move a bit closer?” Hermione asked, bobbing a little.

“Huh?” Ron jumped.

“To the Shrieking Shack.” Ron relaxed, as Ariadne smiled, facing away from him. The boy did tend to jump to conclusions, and Ariadne wasn’t sure Hermione had solely meant the Shack in the first place. While she and Ginny had been hanging out, Ron and Hermione had been spending more time together and Hermione was info-dumping to the boy a lot more than she had used to. Ron’s appreciation of those rather one-sided conversations tended to vary however.

“Oh, er, actually, I’m... I’m-I’m fine here,” Ron spluttered, tapping the barbed wire as Ariadne straightened, sensing the approach of three magical cores behind her.

“ _ Aurum Radia _ ,” Ariadne said calmly, stepping over to stand by Ron, as Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stepped down the bank. She idly realized her stance could be seen as aggressive, and lowered her wand, letting it sit in her sleeve.

“Well, well, look who’s here!” Malfoy laughed. “You two shopping for your new dream home?” he joked, stopping in front of Ron and looking between Ron and Ariadne. “Bit grand for you, isn’t it Weasle-bee? Don’t your family sleep in, uh, one room?”

“Shut your mouth, Malfoy,” Ron replied half-arsedly.

“Ooh, not very friendly,” Malfoy said.

“There are six bedrooms in the Weasley house,” Ariadne said, matter-of-factly. “It’s actually bigger than the Shrieking Shack.”

“Oh, look Weasley! Got yourself a boyfriend!” Malfoy laughed. Ariadne frowned, confused, before realizing what Malfoy had meant. He’d meant  _ her _ . She set her jaw and resisted the urge to hex the boy then and there. “Boys. I think it’s time to teach Weasle-bee here how to respect his superiors,” Malfoy added smugly, pulling up his collar as Crabbe and Goyle fiddled with their gloves in a way clearly meant to be intimidating. Hermione laughed.

“Hope you don’t mean  _ yourself _ ,” Hermione spat, stepping forward and slightly in front of Ron.

“How  _ dare _ you talk to me?” Draco hissed as Ariadne looked up. “You filthy little Mudblood!”

“Say that again,” Ariadne snarled immediately, Hermione jumping as her sister straightened in fury.

“What? Mudblood?” Malfoy snickered, before his face turned to one of shock and he tried to step back as Ariadne stomped forward in the snow and raised her arm.

THWA-CRACK!!

Ariadne’s fist had smashed into Malfoy’s face before she’d even really comprehended what she was doing, and Malfoy was in a heap on the ground clutching at what had sounded like an immediately broken nose. Ariadne shook out her suddenly painful knuckles, standing over the boy with a disgusted scowl. Crabbe and Goyle stood aimlessly, having jumped back as Malfoy had fallen.

“Next time you say that to my sister, I use magic. And trust me, I’m a  _ lot better  _ with that than my hands.” Ariadne spun angrily and rejoined her friends.

“You broke my nose!” Malfoy cried, standing up and chucking a snowball at her back. She turned as it hit her, an utterly meaningless impact through her jumper. Unimpressed, she let her wand slide out of her sleeve as Malfoy jumped, stepping back before stopping, noticing Ariadne wasn’t casting.

“ _ Perdepso _ ,” Ariadne said calmly, pointing her wand at the snow and letting the warbling tendrils of the basic transfiguration spell accumulate a thickly-packed snowball several times larger than Malfoy’s head and probably just as dense. Malfoy spluttered before Ariadne flicked her wand, sending the gigantic snowball flying at the boy, which bowled both him and Crabbe straight back to the forest floor. Hermione burst out laughing after having frozen completely at Ariadne’s assault, ducking down and hucking two snowballs at the remaining Goyle. Seeing an opportunity in the distracted boy, Ariadne used  _ wingardium leviosa _ to send a similar wobbling arm to pull Goyle’s trousers down. She tilted her head cockily as Malfoy dug himself out. “ _ Aurum Radia _ . Run along,” she sneered. They didn’t need telling twice; Goyle was already stumbling, struggling to pull his trousers back up as Malfoy pulled himself from the still largely intact snowball and pulled Goyle down as he flailed for purchase on the snowbank. 

“Bloody hell, Adne! That was not funny!” Ron exclaimed, before the giggling Hermione won him over and he started laughing too. “Okay, just a little bit,” he smiled.

“You hit him!” Hermione exclaimed, still laughing, cackling hard enough to not be standing up straight.

“Deserved it,” Ariadne replied, grinning. “I-I-I-I’ve-I’ve-I’ve wanted to do that for three years. Now.  _ Do _ we want to move closer to the Shrieking shack?” she asked, turning to the fence and pointing.

\--

“Wait, why are you coming back?” Ariadne asked Hermione, after finding a safe spot to take out her Time Turner and go back for Spell-Making since splitting off from Ron outside the staff room. So far, she’d avoided Snape and the inevitable detention she was expecting for assaulting Draco, as Hermione sat beside her on a barrel, her Time Turner out. “You don’t have Spell-Making.”

“Nothing,” she replied, smiling. “Nothing!” Hermione exclaimed, as Ariadne tilted her head.

“So you’re coming back in time for… fun?” Ariadne asked. “You’re up to something, I’ve noticed you go all smiley when you think you’re getting away with it.”

“Shut up,” Hermione mumbled. “Four turns, yes?”

“Four turns,” Ariadne replied, nodding and smiling knowingly as yellow light enveloped the pair, the world disappearing for a few moments. Hermione escorted Ariadne to Spell-Making, before leaving hurriedly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Ariadne’s efforts that week resulted in a lot more progress - she’d successfully reworked the guidance algorithms as well as the spawning system, that allowed her to more finely control the positions and space occupied by the stars. While she was happily waiting for Hermione to come pick her up, however, Professor Snape found her and gave her three days worth of detention for assaulting Draco, and hadn’t seemed amused by her spluttering addition that she’d “put snow on it to stop the bleeding.” Hermione, stubborn as always, remained steadfastly mysterious about her own activities, leaving Ariadne without any other option than speculation.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m quite glad I’ve upped my word count on these, it lets me put in so many more little character moments.


	92. Jingle Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers spend a day at the Weasleys’ for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much has really happened this year for our intrepid Granger, she’s been having a wonderful time… let’s see if that holds up.

That year’s Christmas holidays were the most relaxing she’d had since first going to Hogwarts. With no worries of Voldemort, no public appearances for Ariadne to speak of and no need to travel backward in time, she and Hermione were almost unsure of what to do with themselves other than study and gorge themselves on fruit mince tarts to the disapproval of their parents. Crookshanks had been enjoying their home, as he’d not spent much time there before Hogwarts, and often spent his time looking out the windows disdainfully at the snow. It was entertaining to return to the amenities of toasters, television and the internet after having spent a few months discussing the non-magical world with people who’d never heard of any of them in Muggle Studies, and they frequently laughed about how Professor Burbage had been unprepared for the inappropriate humour of  _ QI  _ and had replaced it with other shows like  _ Coronation Street _ . Many of their classmates had expected Steven Fry to be able to hear them, and didn’t quite understand that they weren’t part of the studio audience, but they’d eventually got it.

They had also so very much missed takeaways. The Hogwarts kitchens may have been excellent, but they had to admit that sometimes, they just wanted some crappy fish and chips drenched in far too much vinegar.

Of all the homework they’d taken with them, the Arithmancy was perhaps the easiest. Calculators didn’t work at Hogwarts, but given how helpful they were, Ariadne wondered if Diagon Alley sold magic ones, or if Professor Vector would even allow their use in her classroom.

That day, however, was not a study day. It was a day for friends, only a few days before Christmas as they doused the fireplace and the girls stood amongst the still-hot embers warming their feet.

“Hopefully the Weasleys don’t have their fireplace lit,” Valerie said, worried as her daughters stepped in. “Otherwise this won’t be fun.”

“The Weasleys have two fireplaces,” Hermione piped up. “One for Floo and one for fire.”

“Oh, well that’s good then,” Valerie replied. “Maybe we should move a heater in here so nobody gets roasted in ours,” she mused as Hermione moved slightly. Ariadne wondered if she could get permission to use the Blindsight charm at home, it was only becoming more and more infuriating not to know what was around her while off the Hogwarts grounds. “All right, there you go. We need to get some more of this, I’ll put it on the shopping list,” she said, as Hermione took a handful of Floo powder. “Okay, say hi to the Weasleys for us!”

“Have a nice day!” Dennis called as Hermione breathed in.

“The Burrow!” Hermione called and threw down the powder. As usual, orange flame bent the world around Ariadne, throwing her and her sister through a wave of chaotic strings that must have threaded through a few thousand homes in England alone, let alone the rest of Britain, before she was met with the largely red core of Arthur Weasley.

“Hermione, Ariadne! Come in, come in,” he ushered, stepping back from the fireplace. Ariadne was glad of the heavily magical environment, which made it much easier for her to navigate. Ariadne could hear Christmas music in the background, tinny and through what was clearly a magical radio tuned to the WWN, and she could sense a cone of magical baubles in the corner which was probably a Christmas tree. “Care for some tarts, Molly made them with some help from Ron. Boy’s learning well,” Arthur asked, the sound of his fingers tapping a plate accompanying the offer.

“Er- Yes please!” Hermione replied, bobbing. Ariadne smiled and nodded, as footsteps shook through the house from above.

“‘Adne!” Ginny exclaimed, running down, quickly followed by Ron. “Hermione!”

“Hey girls!” Ron called.

“Ginny! Ron!” Ariadne exclaimed, offering each a hug. Ron was too slow, and Ginny eagerly leapt into the open arms of the blind girl before Ariadne switched to her brother. “Happy christmas!”

“Yeah, you too!” Ron replied. Beside them somewhere, a bell began ringing shrilly as Ariadne heard Hermione clap her hands to her ears. “Sorry Hermione! That’ll be the danishes!” he called, running into the kitchen.

“Danishes?” Ariadne asked, smiling bemusedly.

“Mum’s teaching me! Awwww, they’re burnt. Dammit,” Ron swore, after turning the timer alarm off and opening the oven. Molly stepped in from outside, quickly leaning over the counter.

“They’re not  _ that  _ burnt, Ronald, you’re doing well. We can drizzle some chocolate on them once they’ve cooled. Ah! Grangers, come here!” Molly assured Ron, before approaching the girls. Ariadne hesitantly stepped toward her, unsure of where the chairs were before being wrapped in the woman’s arms. “Oh, it’s good to see you two! Enjoying your christmas holidays?”

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley!” Hermione replied. “Mostly just been reading, to Ariadne too.” Ariadne nodded.

“What have you been reading?” asked Ginny, who’d been hovering anxiously.

“Re-reading  _ Lord of the Rings _ , it’s been a while,” Ariadne replied. “We’re just getting to the end of  _ The Fellowship of the Ring _ .”

“That’s that one with the songs about it you showed us, right?”

“Yep!” Ariadne jumped a bit on the spot. “Oh!” she reached into her bag, pulling out the case she’d wrapped. “I got you something.” Ginny jumped a little, before reaching forward and gently taking it from her.

“Can-can I?” Ginny asked. Ariadne nodded, before Ginny set it down on the table and began tearing into the plain paper it was wrapped in. She heard Ginny turn it around and unclip it, opening the case to reveal the set of magical pieces in their slot. Ginny gasped slightly. “A model of-”

“Re-r-r--re-read the instructions,” Ariadne said eagerly, cutting her off. The pieces of parchment were pulled from the box, as Ginny gasped significantly more.

“Oh my- Ariadne?!” Ginny exclaimed, immediately hugging her. “How in- Merlin- how could you afford this?!” she asked incredulously as Ron stepped over and jumped in awe.

“Th-they were on sale,” Ariadne said, facing away and feeling her face go red. “You said you always wanted to play, so..”

“Wha- Ariadne this is… I only got you…” Ginny spluttered. “Oh my god…” The girl hurriedly pulled the set out from the box, gingerly placing them on the ground before taking out her wand. As the tip of her wand tapped on the side of them, Ginny jumped backward as the miniaturization spell was toggled off and the set expanded into their regular size.

Before them all stood an enchanted drumset, complete with a stool and all eight of the standard drums and snares.

“Woah…” Ginny said, grabbing the drumsticks in the case and haphazardly bashing one of the snares, which released a chaotic vibrating clang. “Haha!”

“Oh my  _ god _ , Ariadne, do you know what you have just done to this household?” Molly sighed. “She is never going to stop playing those,” she said, as Ginny cackled, thumping on the drums. Hermione snorted as Ron set about taking the danishes from the oven, quickly setting the tray on the table. Ariadne’s face went white as her widening eyes as she realized.

She hadn’t got Ron  _ anything _ .

“Oh, er, Ron,” she spluttered. “I uh, I ran out of pocket money getting this, I’ll get you something for New Years!” she said hurriedly. It was a complete lie, but she hoped it would seem plausible.

“That’s okay,” Ron said dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, we don’t normally do many gifts anyway.”

“Those look really good Ron!” Hermione said. “I  _ did  _ get you something,” she added, sounding like she was pulling something out of her bag.

“A… a chess book? Okay, you are _so_ _on_ ,” Ron laughed, running upstairs to presumably fetch his chess set. “Open book test,” he added competitively.

“Only if we  _ both _ get to consult the book.”

“You’ve already read it, what’s the bet?” Ron taunted as he stepped up stairs.

“I had to check if it was good before giving it to you!” Hermione replied cockily as she sat down. “These do look good.”

“They smell good!” Ariadne replied, sitting down as well while Ginny stopped bonking the drums and set the drumsticks down. “D’ya like them?”

“Hell yeah!” Ginny replied, stepping over. “Hold on, I got you something too!” Ginny exclaimed, following and nearly bowling over Ron who was returning with the chess set.

“All right, paper scissors rock to choose who’s which colour,” Ron announced, setting the magic-painted board gently down on the table and sitting opposite Hermione. After Hermione won and chose to go first, Ginny flew down the stairs and stopped before Ariadne.

“Here!” she exclaimed, as Ariadne hesitantly reached out for it and felt Ginny put it in her hands. It was a small box, not much bigger than the one her keychain had been in. “Didn’t have time to wrap it, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Ariadne said, smiling as she opened the case. Within, she sensed no magic, and gently tapped the inside to feel a cushion and something hard on a cord. Feeling its shape, it was long and curved, with a point on one end.

“It’s a tooth necklace,” Ginny said excitedly. “B-b-b-” she began trying to say as her magic spasmed. “Hrng-  _ Basilisk  _ tooth.” Ariadne’s smile widened as she faced up at the girl. Ginny leant over, taking the necklace out of the box. “May I?”

“Yeah!” Ariadne mumbled, lowering her head as Ginny draped the cord over her neck. As she leant back, Ariadne touched the light piece. It obviously wasn’t an actual Basilisk tooth, that would have been glowing, but a tiny replica. “Thanks Ginny, this is… thank you,” she said, cheeks going red.

“I got myself one too, they match,” Ginny mumbled as Ariadne stepped forward and pulled the slightly taller girl into a hug. Ariadne swore to herself she’d wear it as often as possible.

\--

“Checkmate!” Hermione cried, jumping up in her chair as Ariadne crunched down on the admittedly slightly burnt chocolate danish she’d pilfered. She’d been watching the increasingly tense game closely, admiring how much Hermione had learnt. Both of them had been consulting the book Hermione had bought Ron from the non-magical bookstore. Ron leaned back in his chair, groaning as Hermione stimmed triumphantly. 

“Well done, Hermione!” Fred said, as it sounded like George passed him some coins as part of their bet - George had bet that Ron would win. Over the hour and a half the two had been playing, Molly had come around with new hand-knitted jumpers for the girls. Apparently, Ron had told her how the first one she’d sent Hermione hadn’t been a good texture for the girl leading to its quick disuse, so she’d changed the material to one Hermione appreciated far more. Ariadne’s, like two years prior, bore a glowing magical A upon its front. It was far too warm in the surprisingly well-heated house for her to put it on, but she happily sat her hands upon it as she cheered.

“Ayyyy!” Ariadne exclaimed as Fred put a hand on her shoulder. “Nice!”

“We got you something, hop over here would ya?” Fred whispered. Ariadne stood, probing the way after the pair who lead her to what she was told was the scullery room. “Come and join the big kids,” the Twins said in unison as they stopped. As Fred nudged the door closed, George handed her something folded and glowing with orange magic.

“What’s this?” Ariadne asked curiously. “It’s ma-magic, parchment?” she added, feeling it and trying to begin unfolding it.

“Magic parchment, she says,” Fred said to George, chuckling. “That there is the secret to our success.”

“It’s a wrench giving it to you, believe me,” George said.

“But we’ve decided, your needs are greater than ours,” Fred finished the sentence. “George, if you will.” George raised his wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” George said quietly, tapping his wand on the page. It wasn’t a spell, as nothing came from his wand, but the paper flashed and turned red.

“Wh… What happened?” Ariadne asked.

“Aww dammit, we hoped you wouldn’t have to use your spell,” George lamented. “Well, I can read this to you. Messrs Mooney, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs are proud to present the Marauder’s Map. We owe them  _ so much _ .”

“What’s it a map of?” Ariadne asked, hesitantly unfolding a bit of it, hoping maybe the ink would catch magic somehow but to no avail.

“Hogwarts.  _ And _ , it’s not just any old map. Right there, you can’t see him, is Dumbledore,” Fred said, Ariadne feeling his hand touch the parchment she was holding.

“In his study,” George added, possibly noticing Ariadne’s incomprehension.

“Pacing.”

“Does that a lot.” Ariadne frowned, folding the map back up.

“Wait-wait… do you mean this map shows-”

“Everyone,” George said.

“ _ Everyone _ ?” Ariadne exclaimed.

“Everyone,” Fred affirmed.

“Where they are,” George explained.

“What they’re doing.”

“Every minute-”

“-Of every day!”

“Huh…” Ariadne mumbled. “That’s… fascinating, I wonder how it works. Wait. Where’d you get it? You didn’t make it,” Ariadne asked, frowning at them.

“Nicked it from Filch’s office of course,” Fred replied. “ _ First year _ .”

“But why would  _ I _ need it?” Ariadne asked. “I know the layout of Hogwarts, and I can tell who’s who easier than most? I can even tell you two apart.”

“To our unending grief,” Fred snickered. “Now that Ron and Hermione have got access to Honeydukes, we no longer control the sweets and pastries economy.”

“We all know you can’t get past the Dementors, Ariadne,” George said. “But what if you want to go to Hogsmeade anyway, huh?”

“I ask McGonagall if I can use the Floo?” Ariadne suggested. The pair tutted at her.

“Not after punching Malfoy you don’t, which, excellent job on that by the way. That plaster’s hilarious, couldn’t have done better ourselves,” Fred pointed out as Ariadne smiled in embarrassment. “No no no no no. You need another way, which this here map provides.”

“Now, listen,” George said. “There are seven secret passageways  _ out _ of the castle. We’d recommend the One Eyed Witch passageway, you’ll know it when you can use your spell on the map. Leads  _ straight _ to Honeydukes’ cellar.”

“Woah…” Ariadne mumbled. “Thanks, guys!” she said. “I mean, I’m  _ technically _ allowed to go to Hogsmeade…”

“That’s the spirit,” George laughed. 

“No need to thank us, just doing our civic duty,” Fred boasted. “We don’t really need it anymore.”

“Oh, and don’t forget. When you’re done, just give it a tap and say: Mischief Managed,” George added, tapping his wand to it as Fred repeated the phrase in unison, the map returning to its inactive dull orange. “Otherwise anyone can read it.” Ariadne nodded.

“It’s-it’s-it’s a-it’s a-it’s a different colour when it’s on, I won’t forget.”

“Hey guys!” Ginny exclaimed, bowling the door open as Ariadne hurriedly put the map behind her back. “Do you guys want to play Quidditch?” Ariadne nodded eagerly.

“It’s a bit cold, Gin-Gin,” Fred protested. There was a pause, before Fred relented. “Oh all right. Hey, you’ll be just as slow as everyone else, Ariadne!” Ariadne snorted ruefully, waiting until Ginny had disappeared before stuffing the map into her biggest pocket haphazardly and following the boys out.

“You’ll have to use one of these ones,” Ron said as they approached the shed they kept their brooms in. “This one’s a… yeah okay, you can have the Swiftstick.” Ariadne frowned. The name was familiar, but she didn’t recall which company had made it or when. Its magic was a little different than she was used to, almost conical in shape within the broom, and it definitely wasn’t exactly new as the connection between her and the broom took a second to take. Ariadne hopped atop it and hovered above the ground, her feet trailing in the snow as the others strode out to the makeshift pitch.

“All right, each Granger can pick a team. Ariadne, you first,” George called.

“Ginny!” Ariadne called, and the red-splotched girl mounted her broom to fly over. Ariadne was astounded - when they’d first played, her connection hadn’t been strong, but now? Now, it was stronger than Ariadne’s. “Y-you’re Chaser,” Ariadne stammered. “I’m Seeker.”

“Ron!” Hermione called, designating the boy a Beater and herself the Chaser.

“George!” Ariadne called, before stopping George. “Nono, I said  _ George _ !” George stopped briefly as Ariadne winked.

“Worth a try,” George said, as Fred stepped over, mounting his broom and George went over to Hermione.

“Beater?” Fred asked, as Ariadne nodded. “Good choice, that Swiftstick isn’t any good for chasing or beating. Does tend to list to the left though, heads up.”

“Got it,” Ariadne said, as they started up. Annoyingly, the Swiftstick had trouble ascending, and floundered as she tried to pull it up to level with everyone else. A Nimbus 2000 it most certainly was not, nor was the Shooting Star she’d been using for Quidditch training. “‘Mione, do you want to start with the Quaffle?”

“Okay!” Hermione called as they entered formation.

“Tree rules, one pointers!” Fred yelled. “And three… two… one!”

In less than a second, Ariadne swore, Ginny had the Quaffle as Hermione yelped, giving chase immediately as Ariadne surveyed the orchard. Just like in her game against Hufflepuff, the light snowfall was giving her grief as she tried to peer through it for the characteristic glow of the Weasleys’ ailing Snitch. As soon as she was sure George, Hermione and Ron were otherwise busied, Ariadne grinned and took a small green ball from her pocket, chucking it into the air as she dodged their sluggish Bludger. The tree on the other end of the orchard crashed as Ginny chucked the Quaffle into its bare branches, and Ariadne cheered.

“One - nil!” Ariadne yelled as Hermione began rocketing toward their own side, dodging a Bludger and trying to weave past Ginny, whose flying had  _ seriously _ improved that term.

“Hey!” Hermione exclaimed as Ginny - from the sound of it - punched the ball from her arms and began racing toward the tree again, soon depositing it back within the branches.

“Aha!” George yelled, rocketing after the green dot as Ariadne spied the purple-glowing Snitch behind her. She smiled as he got near and…

POP!

“What the-” George spluttered, spinning about. “YOU!” he yelled. “Ariadne, you ankle-biting cheating little ninny!” he cried as Ariadne caught the  _ real _ Snitch just after Ginny threw the Quaffle into the tree.

“Eighteen - nil!” Ariadne called, her shit-eating grin ear-to-ear as she stuck out her tongue and Fred cackled as Ginny swooped by, giggling.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some real nice stuff happening, eh? She’ll be a prankster yet.  
> Y’all can have some fluff, as a treat.


	93. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some misadventures in the kitchen, Ariadne realizes something and Hermione’s christmas gift proves useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue the slice-of-life sections wherein nothing of the main plot happens because third year is merciful to Ariadne.  
> So far, anyway. >:)

Ariadne ran a finger along the braille readout of her enchanted linear time watch, which for once was in sync with its relative counterpart which sat in her trunk. It was the day before Christmas, and there were still eleven - no, ten, as the watch clicked over and rearranged the pins - minutes until the Weasleys arrived in the Floo, but for some reason she couldn’t help but slowly pace around her bedroom anxiously. Her homework for the day was done and she didn’t have anything to do, which may have only made her more restless. The desk opposite her bed was adorned with dozens of sheets of paper and magical ink spreading like webs all over them, and her room was slowly regaining the red and purple of her own magic but unfortunately, the time spent at Hogwarts was becoming too much to overcome over the holidays and the house had gone from the vibrant magic shedding of the girls’ primary school years to the same sullen darkness she was used to in the rest of the non-magical world.

Sighing at her own pensiveness, she set her cane to the task of haphazardly checking the way to the living room. It wasn’t strictly necessary, she’d lived in the house for years and knew it like a sighted person might have known the back of their hand, but she knew that she needed to stay in practice with the cane. She couldn’t use her spell in most public places, and her increasing reliance on it was threatening to become a problem.

Feeling around for it, she picked up the kettle and swung it around gently. Satisfied with the apparent amount of water within, she reached out for its base and put it back down, making sure the handle was closest to her and flicked the switch down to set it boiling. Next, as the sound of boiling water filled the kitchen, she tentatively reached into where she knew the cupboard with mugs in it was, and pulled out a mug, sat it down on the counter and slowly worked her way through putting a teabag and some sugar into it. Once that was done, she haphazardly put her wand in it, point-down.

Click.

The kettle had boiled. She had to be careful not to burn her hands as she felt for the handle, finding it and slowly pouring water into the mug. As she did, her sense of her golden wand began to disappear into the water, and she stopped as it reached where she wanted it. Putting the kettle down, she stirred the sugar in with the wand before wiping it on a tea towel and putting it back in her jumper pocket, the magic-threaded A shining below her sense, the shape of the basilisk-tooth necklace obscuring it slightly.

“What was that you did with your wand?” Dennis asked, setting down a mug nearby and pouring the kettle as well. “Some spell?” Ariadne shook her head.

“I can use it to tell where the water level is,” Ariadne replied. “I can’t see the wand through the water.”

“Ohhhhhh. Clever.” Ariadne heard him begin stirring his coffee - she could smell coffee, at least - with a spoon, clanging around the mug. “Hey, have you brushed your teeth this morning? Your friends’ll be here in five.”

“After I had a shower,” Ariadne replied, nodding. Somehow, time both slowed and accelerated as everyone finished getting ready, and she was entirely too aware of her own heartbeat and the butterflies that had taken inhabitance of her stomach.  _ It’s just Ron and Ginny coming over, why are you so anxious? _ she asked herself as Hermione sat down on the couch, her magical core bobbing slightly. Ariadne downed the last of her tea as her watch clicked over.

Fwoosh!

Hermione leapt forward to press the little button Arthur had installed to let people in, before the magical cores of Ron and Ginny Weasley swept out of the orange haze that was the Floo.

“Hey G-Ginny, hey Ron!” Ariadne called as she stood from the table. “How’s it going?” she asked, holding out her arms to let them hug her. The offer was immediately taken by Ron, followed by Ginny.

“Pretty good!” Ginny replied. “Those drums are so cool! Your house is really nice by the way,” she added eagerly.

“Oh, thanks,” Ariadne said. “They’re all the same down the road, I think.”

“Hey guys!” Hermione stepped out from the button. “Ro- woah!” she exclaimed, freezing up as it seemed Ron had suddenly hugged her.

“Oh, sorry. Not in a hug-y mood?” Ron asked, stepping back.

“Eergh. Brain weird today,” Hermione replied quietly. “Sorry.”

“Nah that’s okay, you’re like that sometimes,” Ron said. “I got you both some things!” he added happily, putting a backpack down on a chair and unzipping it. “For you,” he said, moving over toward Hermione, who gasped. “Seemed up your alley.”

“ _ A Squib’s Experience of Muggle Life _ , by Wallace Barnan…” Hermione mused. “Oh! Oh this is about- aaah!” Hermione jumped on the spot gladly, her magic warbling happily. “Thank you Ron! This’ll be so interesting!”

“What’s it about?” Ariadne asked curiously.

“It’s… adjacent to what we talked to Rita about! It’s a Squib’s perspective on how Muggle society is more advanced in some ways, that sort of thing,” Hermione replied.

“Yeah, I thought you’d be curious,” Ron said gladly. “And for you, ‘Adne. You won’t be able to read it until school, sorry.” Ariadne reached out for it, and took hold of the book. “ _ A History of Muggle and Magical Musical Developments _ . I put it past Ginny, she said it was good,” he chuckled. “I think that um.. what was his name, David Bower, was in it.”

“Bowie,” Ariadne corrected him. “Looking forward to it, thanks Ron!”

“And! For everyone,” Ron added, leaning back over his bag and pulling something out of it. “Not burnt this time, raspberry and custard danishes!”

“Woah!” Hermione breathed. “You’ve- you’re good!”

“Ha, thanks,” Ron replied. “Mum helped a lot though.”

“Sti-still, you’re really good!” Ariadne added, setting her new book down.

“I could totally do that,” Ginny snorted. “Cooking can’t be  _ that  _ hard.”

“What makes you say that?” Ron asked jokingly.

“You can do it,” Ginny replied.

“Okay, ninny. I’d like to see you even make a batch of cookies,” Ron replied smugly. “Bet you can’t. Ten sickles.” Laughing slightly, Ariadne stepped over to the kitchen counter.

“Hey Dad?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“C-c-can-can-can Ginny and I use the kitchen? Ron just made a bet she can’t make cookies,” Ariadne asked. Dennis laughed and stepped away from the counter.

“By all means. I’ve got to head out, sorry, but I’ll go and get your mum,” Dennis chuckled. “Hey Val! I’ve got to go, but the girls want to bake, mind keeping an eye on them?” Footsteps heralded Valerie’s approval, and Dennis grabbed his keys.

“You’re on!” Ginny exclaimed, excitedly running around to the kitchen only to flounder. “Umm…”

“Okay, what is it you two want to do?” Valerie asked, coming in the doorway. “Whatcha looking for, Ginny?”

“Cookies,” Ariadne replied. “I think there’s a cookbook in… here somewhere,” she told Ginny, feeling for the cupboard handles. Ginny hungrily grabbed what sounded like the book and began flipping through it.

“Micro-” Ginny spluttered. “‘Adne, what’s a microwave?” she asked.

“Over there, box with a window on the front,” Ariadne replied, pointing in the vague direction of their microwave.

“Huh. Okay, microwave directions… bread, buns and rolls, scones gems and pikelets.. Aha, cakes and biscuits, page 16,” Ginny mused. “Oh these look easy. Afghans, Albert squares, almond biscuits… cake, cake, cake…” Ginny mumbled, flipping through pages. “Oh Merlin there are a lot of these. Page 42, shortbread?”

“Shortbread’s an easy one, I think,” Ariadne said. 

“Cowards!” Ron called from the lounge where he and Hermione were laughing.

“Okay, what’re the ingredients?” Ariadne asked, ignoring Ron.

“Butter, cornflour, icing sugar and flour,” Ginny replied. “Mrs. Granger?”

“We should have everything,” Valerie said. “Although it’s pretty cold, so the butter will be too hard to cream. So we might want to soften that in the microwave. All right, 225 grams of butter, there’s the scale.” Ariadne heard Ginny pull the scale out and set it on the bench, and begin slicing into the butter. “You’ll want a plate on there, and zero it out,” Valerie reminded her, putting a plate onto the scale and turning the shell which Ariadne was told bore the measuring scale. Plonk, plonk, plonk.

“Two hundred and twenty five!” Ginny said triumphantly.

“All right, want to use the microwave?”

“Yes please!” Ariadne smiled warmly as Ginny followed Valerie like she was a duckling over to the microwave. 

“So, this button opens it, and this dial determines how long it’s on.” Valerie opened the microwave with a clack. “Pop the butter plate onto the tray.” Clonk. “All right, now, you want this to be in there for maybe… twenty seconds. The dial’s minimum is 30, so once it gets a third away from there, press  _ this _ button and then open it.”

“Okay,” Ginny said, studiously. The microwave beeped and began humming loudly. “Is it supposed to be making that noise?!” Ginny asked, jumping back.

“Yep,” Ariadne replied from behind her.

“I thought I’d broken it,” Ginny mumbled. “Oo, it’s spinning,” she added, leaning slightly to presumably look in the glass. Ariadne, meanwhile, was thinking. They’d forgotten something. Ginny pressed the button and the microwave died.

“Okay, you can take that out now,” Valerie said, as Ginny pulled the butter plate out. “Now, Ariadne, I can see you’ve realized. What have you forgotten to do?”

“Um…” Ariadne thought. “Preheat the oven!”

“Exactly. What does the recipe say, Ginny?”

“It doesn’t say to ‘preheat’ the oven?” Ginny replied. “Oh!” she added as Valerie leant over, probably pointing. “One hundred and fifty… C?”

“One-hundred and fifty degrees celsius. That’s a temperature. Now, have you ever used a Muggle oven, Ginny? No? Okay, over here. You see this dial? This controls the temperature, go ahead and set that to one-hundred and fifty.” The dial clicked as Ginny leaned toward it, the braceleted arm twisting. “Okay, now you need to set this one to turn the oven on.”

“Bake?” Ginny asked.

“Yep,” Valerie replied. “Okay, see the light in there? That means it’s on. Now we can leave that to heat up and actually make the shortbread. Now we need to… cream butter and sugar together, for which we’re going to use this,” Valerie told Ginny leading her back to the bench as Ariadne stepped out of the way, before leaning down into the cupboard.

“What’s that?”

“This, is an electric beater.”

Ginny adorably loved the loud, destructive, electric beater, even if she got cookie dough everywhere while using it. Ariadne couldn’t help but smile as Ginny laughed evilly, declaring the dough defeated by the power of “Eleretisity.”

“Okay, but you didn’t make these alone,” Ron said as Ginny happily laid out the cookies on a tray to cool. “Mrs. Granger did most of the work, and Ariadne rolled them out.”

“Neither did you!” Ginny replied. “You said it yourself, Mum helped! Ten sickles, pay up.” Ariadne grinned.

“Y-yeah Ron, pay up,” she added, sitting down at the table. “Gin-Gin-Ginny can bake.”

“Fine, I’ll do it when we get home,” Ron groaned. Ariadne felt her watch. They had plenty of time, a few hours.

“Oh-oh! Ginny-G-g-g-ginny! Have you ever seen a television?” Ariadne asked excitedly. “Professor Burbage let us borrow some of the  _ Doctor Who _ tapes to study, wanna see?”

\--

After terrifying Ron and Ginny with  _ Remembrance of the Daleks _ , Hermione agreeing with the Doctor’s musings on the ripple effect of time and the Weasleys comparing the Dalek weaponry to various spells, the time had eventually come for them to leave. Stuffed with overly crumbly shortbread and danishes, Ginny had taken what remained to show her mother and given Ariadne a hug before vanishing into the fireplace with a plume of magical orange flame. With that, Ariadne probed her way back to her room.

It hadn’t been the scream of Dalek lasers that had made her heart leap from her chest, nor the voice of Davros. No, it had been Ginny’s hand grabbing hers whenever those lasers had fired, when Davros had vowed to become a lord of time, that had made her stomach flip over on itself and her cheeks flush.

She needed to think, and she sat on the end of her bed, frowning as she ran a finger along the replica tooth hanging around her neck.

“Something on your mind?” Hermione asked, leaning in the door she realized she’d left open as she jumped. “You okay?” Ariadne nodded hesitantly, still fiddling with the necklace as Hermione sat down heavily, shaking the bed.

“I…” Ariadne mumbled. “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I think-think I… I think I like Ginny,” she spluttered, still unsure of herself.

“I know,” Hermione replied.

“No, I mmea-me-mememe-mean… I  _ like _ Gin-” Ariadne tried to clarify, before Hermione cut her off.

“Yeah, I know,” Hermione said again, almost amused. “Wait… you didn’t?”

“What?” Ariadne gasped, trying to face away.

“‘Adne, I can’t tell people’s expressions to save my life and  _ I  _ knew. Besides, I think you forget sometimes that other people can see your face.”

“I- huh?” Ariadne spluttered. This was news to her.

“You’ve got the subtlety of a dull breadknife. You lit up like that Christmas tree as soon as she Floo’d in,” Hermione teased. “You bought her  _ a drumset _ . Come on.” Ariadne blushed, folding in on herself even more even as she couldn’t help but smile and her ears went red. “Ariadne has a cru-ush!” Hermione added, her magic moving as she wiggled on the spot.

“Shut up!” Ariadne exclaimed, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. She might have been mortified to know that she was so obvious, but Hermione was, as usual, correct.

“Do you think she likes you too?” Hermione asked, leaning forward more. Ariadne blinked, shrugging. “She  _ did _ give you that painting, and that necklace, and that keychain.”

“I don’t know… she pro-pro-pro-pro-probab-probably doesn’t even like girls,” Ariadne mumbled, her hands dropping to her lap as she fiddled with her fingers. 

“ _ You _ do,” Hermione replied. “Maybe she does too!” Ariadne pulled a face, humming uncertainly as Hermione stood. “Good night, lovebird.”

“Shut up,” Ariadne whined as Hermione hung out of her doorway. “You’ve got a crush on Ron!”

Hermione did not respond to that as her magic spiked briefly before she went upstairs to go to bed.

\--

The next morning, Ariadne woke to a quiet christmas morning, frigid as always as she elected not even to get changed and rather to walk around wrapped in her blanket. Making sure not to trip, she eventually found her way to the living room where she became a human burrito on the sofa.

“Snug as a bug in a rug, you are,” Valerie said, plopping down beside her as Hermione sat down across from them and Dennis knelt down where Ariadne was told the tree was.

“All right ‘Adne, let’s start off with the big one,” Dennis announced as Hermione’s magic bobbed around excitedly, turning around and handing Ariadne an ironically small present. “Not literally big, but I think you’ll like it. Hermione made it before the holidays.” The package was a wide rounded rectangle, not particularly tall and about three times as long as it was wide, as she felt about it without facing it, instead choosing to smile at Hermione thankfully before she began tearing the paper off it. What she was met with was made of plastic, not unlike her guitar case, but had a logo of some sort etched into the top - unfortunately, she couldn’t tell what the logo was. Feeling around the short sides, she realized there was a top and a bottom which connected on one of the long ones - a case, also not unlike the one the guitar had come in. Feeling no latches, she tentatively pulled it open, the tension-based hinge creaking.

She was immediately met with half of the living room lighting up blue as a wave of light shot out. Within the case sat the glowing outline of a pair of round glasses, with a delicate chain lit in the same magical light running between the arms, pooling in the case. They clearly had lenses, as they obfuscated her magic sense, but the lenses were clearly not the functional element. Gasping, she carefully lifted the pair of glasses from their case, the entire frame pulsing with magic every two seconds as the previous pulse faded, constantly updating her surroundings.

“This is what you were working on!” Ariadne exclaimed, holding them up and revealing everything around her as Hermione bobbed on the spot, waving her hands about happily. It was the first time she’d ‘seen’ her parents. Dennis had a longer face than his wife and daughter, his hair beginning to recede up his left temple and wore a cardigan over a collared shirt. Valerie, meanwhile, had a hairstyle not unlike Ariadne’s own, tied up behind her head with an even fringe. She wore a thick jumper, and fingerless woolen gloves. Sitting with her mouth agape, Ariadne pulled the chain over her neck and slid the glasses on under her hair as the entire lounge became visible to her. “Oh-mymymy god Hermione thank you!” she added, still wrapped in a blanket burrito as she took in the room around her. She had known its layout for years, but there was something to be said for ‘seeing’ every branch of the plastic christmas tree, the ledge of the kitchen counter, all of the crushed fabric tension on the couch covers.

“Do you like it?” Hermione asked anxiously. “Professor Flitwick says the chain will make sure it works behind you too.” Ariadne nodded.

“Yeah!” She scrambled out of the blanket prison she’d created as Hermione’s hand-waving got quicker, standing giddily in her now visible-to-her living room. “I’m gonna go see what my room looks like!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone guessed I’d be doing the glasses a while ago, and I love it when people predict things. My planning document is 16,517 words long, and I ain’t gonna change a thing just to stop people from figuring stuff out. Rip to game of thrones but I’m different.  
> The glasses are, visually speaking, pretty much the same as canon!Harry’s, but silver and with a chain.


	94. Historical Inaccuracies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Hogwarts for their second term brings an awkward Ariadne to bear, before she discovers something strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy 30,000 hits Batman! I am continually surprised that people are reading this, thank you all so much for reading this!

Enthralled by the constant knowledge of what exactly was around her, Ariadne could not thank Hermione enough for her handiwork. She didn’t tend to wear the glasses while in public, just because they’d be difficult to explain as a fully blind person whose retinas were very clearly dissolved. The explanation of them being reading glasses was floated, but Ariadne felt it would backfire - reading being exactly the opposite of what they allowed her to do - so the glasses were usually left at home in favour of the more Statute-compliant cane. It had taken a few weeks for Ariadne to get used to the weight on her nose and ears, but eventually the frames became just as much a part of her day as taking her potions in the mornings. 

They did, however, pop the lenses out after a few days; unable to sense through the glass, Ariadne was finding that they were creating strange blind spots in her magic sense. She’d never really thought about where exactly in her head her sense emanated from, but it seemed that there were at least six points floating about in her head, their positions varying depending on the situation. Going off the strange fragmentation of the blind spots, anyway, the shifting points had given her a headache from trying to adjust for the lenses. The headaches no longer a problem unless she left the glasses on for too long, Ariadne had spent her holidays glad of the first true relaxation she’d had in months. 

As the days went on, she had to admit; Hermione had been  _ very _ correct about her feelings for Ginny. Now she was aware of it more keenly, it only became more blatant in her mind as her thoughts kept drifting to the girl she’d saved in the Chamber of Secrets less than a year before. It was only more distracting as the days drew ever closer to their second term at Hogwarts, their trunks packed with books and Time Turners, and they ran out of study to distract her.

Telling Ginny was most definitely not something she was brave enough to do. Fighting a Basilisk for her was nothing compared to how terrified that idea made her. No, it would remain her secret, assuming she could stop being so heavy-handed about it that  _ Hermione  _ had figured it out. Did she already know? That thought terrified Ariadne even more, but she supposed that at least it meant she was fine with it if she did. Dismissing herself and her anxious contemplations, Ariadne resigned herself to whimsical flights of fancy as she packed her final bags to leave for the Hogwarts Express.

Walking down the ramp at a slightly faster pace than usual, Ariadne probed the path ahead as her glasses hung from the chain dangling from her neck, pulsing and revealing King’s Cross Station. Finally able to properly discern its layout, Ariadne realized why her family had had trouble remembering which column was the portal - dozens of identical columns ran down the gigantic building in long rows, and had it not been for the distinctive magic of the specific column that lead to Platform 9 ¾, even she wouldn’t have known which it was. The trains, meanwhile, only highlighted how behind wizards were - smooth, sleek electric trains lay in the platforms, a far cry from the antiquated steam locomotive that bled into view as she passed through the wall, pausing only to lift her glasses up onto her nose.

“Good morning Ron!” she heard Hermione call from around the corner, her stomach jumping into her throat as she pushed her trolley onto the platform and sensed the purple-encased core and partially braided hair of Ginny Weasley in the queue to load their trunks onto the train, accompanied by the other Weasleys.

“Hey Hermione, hey Ariadne!” Ron replied, waving to Hermione as Ariadne hesitantly trundled over.

“H-hh-hey!” Ariadne called, waving awkwardly.

“Oh hey ‘Adne!” Ginny exclaimed, spinning around to face her. “Wait- why are you- why have you got glasses?  _ Can you see now?! _ ”

“Huh?” Ariadne spluttered. “Oh, no,” she said hurriedly, closing her eyes and poking a finger through the empty frames. “Hermione made them, they’re doing the-the-the-the spell,” she explained, miming the pulsing motion from the glasses with her hands.

“Oh wow!” Ginny said. “They look really nice on you, ‘Adne,” she added, smiling. Ariadne’s hands went numb on the trolley’s handle as she blushed, noticing a familiarly shaped case sitting atop Ginny’s trolley before it was taken by a porter. What followed was perhaps the most awkward train ride Ariadne had ever experienced, as she couldn’t help but continually fiddle with the Basilisk tooth necklace and her whole body imaginarily shuddered with anxiety.

_ Merlin, Hermione’s right. I really do have the subtlety of a rusty breadknife _ , Ariadne thought as she finally sat down on the sofa in the Common Room, putting her feet up slightly on her guitar case. The Common Room was starting to quiet down, as the fire crackled warmly and Ginny sat nearby, earnestly scrawling what sounded like a pencil across the pages of a notebook and Ron lazily downed sweets. Hermione was studying, catching up on Divination and Care of Magical Creatures for the next day, while Ariadne flipped through her sheet music book. Eventually, Ariadne settled on a song and she pulled the guitar from its case and laid it along her lap. This song was one of the easier in the book, but she was in the mood for it. After checking it was still in tune - despite the enchanted strings - Ariadne twisted her three fingers into position for the D chord.

“Doo doo doodoo-doo doodoo doo…” she crooned slightly, tapping her foot to the beat slightly slower than the studio version of the song. “Doo doo doodoo-doo doodoo doo…” Hermione started bobbing her head slightly, also tapping her foot along as Ariadne alternated between D and E chords.

“ _ You got your mother… in a whirl _ ,” Ariadne sung gently, noticing Hermione was whispering along. “ _ She’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl. Hey babe, your hair’s all- right, hey babe let’s… go out tonight _ .” Occasionally she had trouble getting over to the E chord, but eventually she got into the swing of it, switching to the A chord for the bridge. “ _ They put you down, they say I’m wrong. You tacky thing, you put them on! _ ” A-D-B-E. Chorus. 

“ _ Rebel, rebel, you’ve torn your dress _ ,” Ginny sang, tapping her foot and making Ariadne jump as she suddenly stopped playing. “ _ Rebel, rebel, your fa- _ oh no don’t stop!” she cried. Ariadne blinked at her, smiling bemusedly.

“You-you-you- you learnt the lll… lyrics?” Ariadne asked quietly as Hermione started grinning.

“I may have bullied Mum into letting me get a CD player from a second hand shop,” Ginny replied bashfully, setting the book down on her lap.

“Yeah, Mum hates it,” Ron added, through a mouthful of fudge.

“W-wait, why?” Ariadne asked, confused as she faced between Ron and Ginny.

“Because she bloody well drums along to it!” Ron exclaimed, swallowing. “You’ve cursed our house, Ariadne.”

“Hey!” Ginny cried. “Mum said it was, and I quote,  _ an improvement! _ ”

“Only because there’s actually some pattern to it now instead of random noise,” Ron replied as Ariadne started laughing under her breath. “Percy’s been muttering about you being a bad influence, he has.” Ginny scowled.

“Percy needs to learn about artistic expression. Any expression, really, to be honest.”

“That’s what we’re calling it, is it?” Fred taunted as he stepped past. “There’re certainly expressions involved, I’ve noticed a fair few on Dad.”

“Pain,” George elaborated, just behind him.

“Shock.”

“Concern for the fate of wizardkind, that sort of thing.”

“How many explosions rocked the house last week?” Ginny asked, smiling pointedly. “If anyone’s worth  _ concern for the fate of wizardkind _ , it’s the pyromaniac lunatics upstairs, not ‘Adne here whose playing we’ve interrupted.” Ariadne snorted, finding the A chord again to resume the song back at the bridge.

“ _ They put you down, they say I’m wrong _ ,” Ariadne sung quietly as Ginny tapped along to the beat. “ _ You tacky thing, you put them on! _ ” As Ginny haphazardly imitated the drumbeat that marked the chorus, Ariadne, distracted by the girl, struggled to find the D chord.

“ _ Rebel rebel, you’ve torn your dress! _ ” Ariadne, Hermione and Ginny sung at once, a discordant mess of almost-in-sync voices, guitar and haphazard thigh-slapping as drumming. “ _ Rebel rebel, your face is a mess! Rebel rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so! _ ” they managed to complete, before Ginny started laughing after accidentally sending a pencil clattering across the Common Room, at which they all lost the beat and descended into chaos. As Ginny resumed her sketching after retrieving the errant pencil, Ariadne chose to switch to a slower song that didn’t demand of her that she pretend she wasn’t singing to Ginny, going back to  _ Space Oddity _ . As her fingers began to cramp up, they eventually retired for bed.

After putting her frames in their case and spending the late evening reading about the intersections of various composers with the wizarding world by way of the first few chapters of  _ A History of Muggle and Magical Musical Developments _ , and once she was sure everyone else in the dorm wouldn’t disturb her, she sat behind her curtains after fishing an orange-glowing wad of parchment from her trunk. Hoping the ever so quiet crackle of the heater in the centre of the dorm would mask it, she pointed her wand into the Twins’ gift.

“I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good,” she whispered, and the map flashed red. Smiling, she wiggled into a more comfortable sitting position. “ _ Aurum _ ink.” Before her, etched out in blue against the red, bloomed outward the artistic front page of the Marauder’s Map.

> _ Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present The Marauder’s Map _

The title was laid out in an artistic depiction of the Hogwarts castle, its centre fully inked with its title in the red absence of ink. Strings of text warbled out from the gates, and a flag proudly read HOGWARTS. Curiously, a tree stood on the top-right of the image, and from her distant observations, was most likely the Whomping Willow. The Map therefore had to have been a recent-ish creation, given that the Willow had been planted during Lupin’s school years. Smiling, Ariadne opened the folds of the map to what she believed from first impression to be the fifth floor of the castle proper - noting the distinctly shaped classroom Flitwick held his Music lessons in, her guess was correct. It was strange, the way in which the map distinguished walls - instead of lines, words were used, most likely parts of the enchantment upon the map given their apparent latin derivation.

Ariadne’s interest wasn’t particularly specific, that evening. She was more curious about how the map worked, as she flipped through squares of parchment, trying to figure out how it was organized. It appeared to have many folding pages, some pertaining to whole floors, others more specific areas of the castle. In doing so, Ariadne bemusedly noted a shoe-printed icon labelled “ _ Percival Weasley _ ” walking away from another labelled “ _ Penelope Clearwater _ ” in the third-floor corridor. Remus Lupin was approximately where she would expect, where behind his desk would be in his office. Most likely, given the approaching full moon the next week, he was preparing absentee lesson plans. Finding her way from the third floor, she eventually found herself looking at the packed outlines of Gryffindor Tower. Dozens of names sat in every indicated floor, as she took note of  _ Ginevra Weasley _ below her on the second floor. Curiously, she let her magic sense flit to the third-year dorm. She didn’t know what else she’d expected, but she was glad to know that the map got her name right. Approximately where her bed was, with no footprints to speak of, was the label “ _ Ariadne Lily Granger _ .” To her right was the label of Hermione, as well as her dormmates. Sensing over toward the third-year boys’ dorm, Ariadne frowned. Last she checked, there were only  _ four _ boys in their year in Gryffindor. And to their credit, all four were present.  _ Ronald Weasley _ ,  _ Seamus Finnegan _ ,  _ Dean Thomas _ and  _ Neville Longbottom _ .

To her knowledge, there was not a boy who should be labelled  _ Peter Pettigrew _ in the third-year boys’ dorm, let alone right beside Ron.

He wasn’t a boy in another year, was he? She didn’t remember anyone whose last name was Pettigrew, although she had to admit that the name sounded familiar. She’d definitely read it before, but never heard it.

She frowned. She hadn’t heard the name before, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a student. Perhaps from another House? Why would he be in Gryffindor Tower?

And why in such close proximity to Ron that he could only be in the Weasley boy’s bed?

Ariadne shut the map, conflicted as she whispered the deactivation phrase into it. It might have explained Ron’s sullen silence when Malfoy had implied her to be his boyfriend, if he was in fact gay. Then again, they seemed a  _ little _ young to be sleeping with anyone. What other reason, however, could she think of for them to be in such close proximity? And why would she have  _ read _ the name before but not heard it? If Ron had a boyfriend, secretly or not, she’d probably have known  _ of _ the other boy at least if he also attended Hogwarts. And if he did, it would have to have been a recent thing, otherwise Peter Pettigrew, whoever he was, would have been visiting him in the Hospital Wing the year before. 

How could he have been there without anyone else knowing? The dorms didn’t exactly offer privacy, and as far as she knew, nobody else owned an invisibility cloak.

And wouldn’t Ron have told her? Ron had known she was trans before even Ginny had, surely he’d know he could trust her? To be fair, she mused, she’d trusted Ginny with her being trans but not with her identity in recent magical history, so it perhaps wasn’t so much of a stretch. She wasn’t owed his private information.

Enough didn’t add up to her that she didn’t know. Maybe she was reading far too much into it, maybe the boy was just pranking him, waiting under his bed until he was asleep to wake him up or something. Perhaps it was a map glitch, perhaps whatever magic figured out what floor someone was on was confused. However, looking to the fourth-year boys’ dorm, a “ _ Cormac McLaggen _ ” was sleeping where she thought directly above might have been. Then again, she wasn’t sure if the stairs were quite on the same angle per floor, perhaps they were rotated. 

Disturbed by the potential for privacy violations in the Marauder’s Map, she hurriedly shoved it back into the bag it had sat in beside her bed. As she lay there, confused, one fact only increased her confusion as her increasingly semi-conscious mind roamed through fields of logic and facts.

She had  _ read _ the name somewhere. It hadn’t been familiar as a voice, but as text, and as someone who’d only gained the ability to read anything visually in the last few years, that difference was distinct. Something she’d read in the last few years had contained that name. If he’d been in a book, he almost certainly hadn’t been a student.

Who was Peter Pettigrew? She’d have to ask Ron, or someone else in the dorm, who he was.

\--

“H-hey, Ron?” Ariadne asked over breakfast, the glowing chain of her Time Turner peeking out through her jumper as she patiently cut through a sausage, watching her glasses pulse the Blindsight charm into the Hall. “Do you-do you-do -do you-doyou - do you know who Peter Pettigrew is? I’ve got the name stuck in my head but I can’t figure out who he is.”

“Wait…” Ron said slowly, his fork clattering down onto his plate as a surprised expression filled his face. “You don’t know who  _ Peter Pettigrew _ was? You?”

“No?” Ariadne replied, frowning.

“I thought you two had read  _ everything _ ,” Ron marvelled. “He was only the guy Sirius Black obliterated along with twelve Muggles which he got thrown into Azkaban for in the first place,” he added, sarcastically. Ariadne drew back, shocked as the chain on her glasses swayed from her movement. “Not long after you killed You-Know-Who the first time, that was. What? You look like you’ve seen-  _ sensed _ a ghost.”

“Huh? No, he’s over there,” Ariadne spluttered, pointing over her shoulder toward the Bloody Baron’s oily form, who was sitting over by the Slytherin table. “I must have read it in a book somewhere...” she mused, her confusion only growing as her brow furrowed.

“ _ Aftermath of the Dark War _ ,” Hermione told her, leaning over. “The Ministry told the non-magical authorities it was a gas leak explosion.”

“Something wrong, Ariadne?” Ron asked, frowning.

“No...no,” Ariadne replied slowly. “It’s nothing...” she mumbled. Concentrating in Divination promised to be difficult. Another student Ron had been secretly seeing, that, she’d have understood. She’d have wanted to meet the boy, and make sure anyone seeing one of her best friends was up to scratch.

But a man twelve years dead by ruthless murder? In Ron’s alcove, in the third year boys’ dormitory? That made  _ no _ sense. She somehow doubted that the map had detected some sort of remnant of the man’s corpse, particularly given that, as Hermione reminded her, the remains of Pettigrew had been limited to a finger, as well as their distance from the site of his destruction. A ghost maybe? She’d have to check if ghosts showed up on the Map.

But if not, why then had the Marauder’s Map placed a marker labelled  _ Peter Pettigrew _ in Ron’s bed alcove?

She was missing something. She knew she was as her mind taunted her with it, but as the bell tolled she knew she had to bring her brain to bear on Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies, rather than mysteries of dead men on a mysterious map of Hogwarts. The mystery of Peter Pettigrew would have to wait.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we start getting into the real shit! xD Finally after four chapters, some more main plot happens.


	95. Expecto Patronum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Scabbers goes missing from Ron’s person and he blames Crookshanks, Ariadne and Hermione go with Professor Lupin to learn about the Patronus Charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin to get to a part of the story where I’ve seen a lot of theorizing for a while, and I must say it is great to finally get to it. I’ve had all this planned almost entirely for 80 chapters.

Now that they were not studying tea leaves, Ariadne had decided she well and truly hated Divination.

Tea leaves could be enchanted to emit a glow so she could participate.  _ Crystal balls _ ? Not so much. Ariadne found herself watching an - to her - inert yellow-magiced sphere for three hours, struggling to follow as Hermione tried to interpret signs from the allegedly cloudy crystal ball while Trelawney ummed and ahhed, eventually claiming to herself see numerous omens in the ball related to Ariadne. Contrary to Hermione’s description of clouds, Professor Trelawney praised Ariadne for the clarity of the ball thanks to her effective reliance on her Inner Eye, which Ariadne herself scoffed at. It would have helped, Ariadne thought, if the inner eye could sense what was  _ in _ the ball. Trelawney, however, was more than willing to supplement what she saw.

All of her omens were conflicting. Omens of hope and freedom, but yet also a gavel. A bright glowing fox, as well as vermin. She had even fallen back in shock at the sight of the Grim stalking the halls of Hogwarts, just after jumping and offering to cover the orb for Ariadne’s privacy. “An er, an omen of growth, shall we say,” Trelawney had delicately said before screaming at the Grim, and later Ron would describe her as having gone redder than his hair. What had been in the ball, Ron couldn’t say - it had been just as cloudy for him as it had been for Hermione. However, as they were supposed to be studying one’s  _ own _ use of a crystal ball, Ariadne could not really participate, which frustrated her to no end.

At lunchtime, Ariadne was surprised to find Ron’s appetite lacking - instead of eating, Ron had instead elected to go back to Gryffindor Tower, to look for Scabbers. The rat had wriggled out of his pocket at some point in the morning and gone missing, and Ron hoped he might have gone to the amenities of his cage in their dorm. Conveniently enough, this offered the Grangers an opportunity to effortlessly slip away to travel back to attend Ancient Runes, not having to put undue pressure on the Time Turners in order to spend the entire day with Ron to make sure he didn’t notice by travelling back a full nine hours at a time. After sidling back over to him in Gryffindor Tower after an enjoyable Ancient Runes class, however, Ron was in, to put it lightly, a foul mood.

“Your cat’s bloody killed him!” Ron exclaimed angrily as soon as he stepped down the dormitory stairs. “Beast was still licking his lips!” Hermione scowled.

“What are you talking about?” Ariadne asked.

“That bloodthirsty mongrel’s always hanging about, and now Scabbers is gone!”

“ _ Mongrel?! _ ” Hermione exclaimed. “You know it’s stuff like that that meant he wasn’t adopted for years!”

“He’s part- he’s part Kneazle, Ron, and he’s  _ s-sp-spps-specifically _ trained only to hunt when he’s told to!” Ariadne added. “For all you know it was Puffles, or Bob. Dozens of students have cats in Gryffindor alone.” Ron, however, was not convinced, claiming that Crookshanks had been in their dorm accompanied by bloodstains on his sheets. As soon as Hermione retorted that keeping a rat in one’s pocket in a castle full of cats in the first place was reckless at best and that if anything it was Ron’s fault if Scabbers had been eaten, the two stopped talking, and even Ariadne could discern the resentful glares they shot at each other. Care of Magical Creatures, where they were learning about fire salamanders, was especially tense as Hermione’s magic continually bubbled in anxiety. Ariadne was glad to go back for Muggle Studies, where they returned the  _ Doctor Who _ tapes to Professor Burbage and effectively were given a chance to relax as their classmates were enthralled by the concept of a telephone, taking turns to try one hooked up to a second in the classroom and jumping every time it rang.

“Ah, Misses Granger,” Professor Lupin called as he caught up with them in the corridor after Ancient Runes. “I know it’s poor notice, but as you might know, that recurring illness of mine will prevent me from teaching you this weekend, and I really was looking forward to it. Would you two care to come with me, we can have a look into the Patronus Charm before dinner.” Instead of his common long coat, the man was wearing a baggy cardigan, which Ariadne had to admit was as far as she could tell, a look that suited Professor Lupin.

“Um, sure!” Ariadne said, pausing to see if Hermione had any protests regarding the change in schedule. “Where’s Ron?”

“I did ask Mister Weasley, but he seemed a little disgruntled over a rat, Scabs I believe he said. He said to go on without him,” Lupin replied. “Shall we?” Hermione nodded, grimacing at Ron’s apparent continuing anger. Ariadne had to remind herself that while it had been several hours longer for them, Ron did not have a Time Turner.

She wasn’t unsympathetic about it, just… disconnected from it. Obviously, Ron losing his pet was tragic, but she’d never really interacted with the strangely magical rat. She also wasn’t  _ entirely _ convinced Scabbers was dead at all, most likely just roaming the halls eating crumbs. Perhaps he’d find his way to the Great Hall by dinner time to feast and he’d stick out to her like a sore thumb would stick out to a sighted person. At the same time, Ron blaming Crookshanks seemed entirely baseless to her - the cat was far from stupid, he knew not to chase other peoples’ pets. Hermes had taken a while to get used to him, but Crookshanks had never once even  _ begun _ to want to catch the presumably tasty owl.

“All right,” Lupin said as he led them into what Ariadne believed to be one of the Astronomy labs. The room had a similar three-tiered layout to Dumbledore’s office, and may have once served as one, but at the present day it was mostly empty. The pillars reaching up to the ceiling had orbiting them several solid blue spheres, presumably to represent various planets - to her right, was one large one with a single moon, Earth, while further toward the back of the class was one with dozens upon dozens of tiny specks surrounding it and a set of rings. “Now are you sure about this, you two?” Professor Lupin asked, turning to them in the centre of the room, before what looked like a large trunk. “You know, this is very advanced magic, well beyond the Ordinary Wizarding Level.”

“No-noth-nothing wrong with giving it a go,” Ariadne replied, nodding as she bobbed up the steps.

“We’re sure,” Hermione added, her right hand flapping a pattern with curiosity.

“Well, everything’s prepared,” Lupin said, pointing idly to the case, which Ariadne frowned at. “Don’t worry, I haven’t managed to stuff a whole Dementor into that,” he assured her, chuckling. “A Boggart. For you, Ariadne, it should present a similar target but without many of the more debilitating effects.”

“I’ll-I’ll-I’ll think of a way to make a Dementor funny just in case,” Ariadne replied, stepping back a little.

“An excellent idea. Hermione, I doubt it will be possible for you to try it on a ‘faux’ Dementor, if you will, but you aren’t at as much risk from the real thing. All right?” Hermione nodded. “All right. There’s only, oh, an hour or so before dinner so let’s get cracking, shall we? I don’t suppose you two have read about the Patronus Charm since our little picnic discussion last term?”

“A little, Professor,” Hermione replied. “A sort of emotional shield, isn’t it?”

“That’s it. A Patronus is a kind of positive force, and for the witch or wizard who can conjure one it works something like a shield, with the Dementor feeding on  _ it _ rather than them. Stronger ones can quite literally beat them back, but I don’t anticipate either of you producing that strong a corporeal Patronus any time soon, no offense.” Ariadne smiled as Lupin sat down on the trunk. “But in order for it to work… you need to think of a  _ memory _ . Not just any memory, a very happy memory, a very  _ powerful _ memory. Can you do this?” Ariadne floundered on the spot a little as he faced her.

“Wh- now?” Ariadne asked.

“I find a practical approach is best,” Lupin replied. “There’s not much specific theory to a Patronus, I’m afraid, it’s quite emotional magic. So, can you do it?” Ariadne thought for a moment, as a memory sprang to mind immediately.

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“Very well. Close your eyes… well, if it helps.” Thinking about, Ariadne grabbed the middle of her cloak and threw it over her head, obscuring her magic sense. Lupin laughed. “Haha, I suppose if it works. Concentrate. Explore your past. Do you have a memory?” Lupin said, moving to her left from the sound of it.

“Yes.”

“Allow it to fill you up. Lose yourself within it,” Lupin told her slowly, stepping around her and gently lifting the cloak so she could sense around her again. The memory of a cold day, sitting on Hermione’s bed filled her mind. “Then speak the incantation  _ Expecto Patronum _ .”

“ _ Expecto Patronum _ ,” Ariadne said slowly.

“Very good.” Lupin walked back over to the trunk, leaning on it. “Shall we? Wand at the ready.” Ariadne nodded, her eyes still pointlessly closed as she pulled her wand from her pocket and held it toward the trunk. Lupin waved his hands and a burst of his green and yellow magic slid the locks out as he took hold of its lid.

“Do it.” Ariadne nodded, and as Lupin lifted the lid, the familiar tentacled red blob that was the Boggart flew up from the trunk, the gurgling sound of a Dementor filling her ears as the indistinct voices of her relatives began filling her mind.

_ Concentrate _ , Ariadne thought to herself as her face itched a little.

> _ She was in the red and blue coated space that was Hermione’s room, sitting on her bed as Hermione sat with a book in hand. It was nearly Christmas. _
> 
> _ “Ooo, I think you’ll like this one,” Hermione said. _
> 
> _ “What is it?” Ariadne asked. _
> 
> _ “Ariadne; helped Theseus slay the Minotaur in the Labyrinth,  _ also  _ a princess like Hermione, granted immortality by Zeus, wife of Dionysus, actually a pretty popular figure. Also, sounds similar to your old name,  _ and  _ ends the same as mine!” Hermione exclaimed. _
> 
> _ “Ariadne Granger,” Ariadne said. “I love it.” _

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed, as her magic flared like never before, a tiny billowing white blob marking the end of her wand. Lupin jumped, his mouth agape.

> **_“Ariadne Granger… I love it.”_ **

“ _ Expecto  _ **_Patronum!!_ ** ” The blob grew as Ariadne flung her wand toward the Boggart, wind beginning to blow her hair back wildly as the chain on her glasses flapped slightly. Professor Lupin gasped.

From the tip of her wand shot a conical shape, splaying outward as the itching stopped, the voices stopped. She couldn’t sense through the brilliant shield that lay between her and the Boggart, but she could hear its sucking noises as it struggled to pass. She stepped forward, euphoria filling her as she repositioned her wand to begin pushing the Boggart back into the trunk, driving her wand up.

“God and Merlin above, Ariadne!” Lupin exclaimed as she pushed, before finally he slammed the lid of the trunk back down and Ariadne let go, stumbling backward as all the iron in her blood left her and exhaustion shocked into her body. “That was- that was nothing short of  _ incredible _ , Ariadne!” he cried as Ariadne leant on a pillar panting. “I can see why Professor Hagrid calls you two the greatest witches of your age. Well done, Ariadne, well done!” Lupin slammed his hand down triumphantly on the trunk, before stepping over.

“S-ssss-s-ss-sir?” Ariadne asked, as Hermione held her arm.

“That was amazing, Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed.

“That’s one word for it. Ariadne, I cannot impress upon you enough how… stratospheric an achievement what you just did is. Almost  _ nobody _ can produce even a noncorporeal Patronus within seconds,  _ nobody _ !” Lupin exclaimed. Ariadne was far too exhausted to speak, instead laughing breathily as she sat down, a smile dominating her face. “Ariadne, if you don’t mind my asking, what memory did you choose to have managed  _ that _ ?!” he asked, sitting down beside her. “Oh, have some of this,” he added, handing her some chocolate from one of the baggy cardigan’s pockets.

Ariadne smiled to Hermione as she took a bite.

“Ariadne Lily Granger,” she said to her sister whimsically. Hermione’s eyes went wide, as she gasped. Ariadne turned to Lupin. “I’m… I’m sitting on Hermione’s bed. It’s December, and I’m seven years old. We got out some books, to think of a new name for me. Semele… Maia, Phaedra, Persephone… Penelope, Ni..Niobe, heh, Mnemosyne… Hestia, Daphne… Ariadne. Helped Theseus in the Labyrinth, immortal wife of Dionysus.” Ariadne smiled. “Hermione called me Ari at school for a while, until I came out.” Ariadne took Hermione’s hand gently, smiling to her.

“That’s beautiful, Ariadne,” Lupin said quietly. “So you helped her pick her name, Hermione?” Hermione nodded eagerly.

“Yes. We wanted to have matching names, so they’re both Greek princesses,” Hermione replied.

“D-d-d-did-did-did I-did I-did I ever say how much that meant to me?” Ariadne asked quietly. “I w-w-wwasn’t-wasn’t thinking about it at the time but… looking back, that was the first time I realized I was your  _ sister _ . When you named me.” Hermione whined slightly in joy and pulled Ariadne into a tight hug.

“Love you,  _ Ariadne _ ,” Hermione mumbled into her ear, her veritable hedge of hair smushing into Ariadne’s shoulder. Detaching, Hermione turned to Lupin. “Can I have a go?”

“Absolutely,” Professor Lupin replied. “Unfortunately, no fake Dementor.” Hermione nodded, and stood up, stepping over to where Ariadne had been. Lupin handed Ariadne the chocolate bar and stood up to stand by her. “Close your eyes,” he told Hermione, as Ariadne broke off another piece and watched. “Do you have a memory?” Hermione nodded. “Proceed.” Hermione took a deep breath.

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” Hermione cried, her magic flaring as she threw her wand outward. “ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” she repeated, as while her magic flared, nothing came from her wand. “ **_Expecto Patronum!_ ** ” Hermione almost yelled. Lupin stepped closer to her.

“You’re getting frustrated, breathe,” Lupin said gently. “You need to stay calm, concentrate on the memory.” Hermione sighed, nodding before taking another deep breath. Hermione closed her eyes. And then opened them again, flicking her head slightly toward a column past Ariadne. Another deep breath.

“ _ Expecto Patronum! _ ” Hermione exclaimed, her magic once again flaring but again, no Patronus. Hermione sighed, hanging her head as her wand fell to her side.

“It’s all right, Hermione,” Lupin assured her, stepping forward. “There’s nothing wrong with not getting it today, it’s advanced magic and I’m astounded Ariadne managed to get  _ anything _ , let alone that. _ But _ , perhaps you need to choose a different memory?” Hermione shook her head.

“It’s not.. It’s not the memory, it’s… I can’t concentrate on it in here. Too much going on,” Hermione replied.

“Too much going on?” Lupin scoffed. “Hermione, this is the quietest classroom in the castle!”

“Not to me.” Hermione shook her head, before pointing over to what Ariadne realized with surprise, as her glasses caught it, was a model train. “That’s making a noise.” Her finger span to point at the model of Jupiter spinning up a column. “That’s moving  _ and _ making a noise, and the noise isn’t uniform because of the different orbits of its moons, and  _ then _ I start thinking about the orbits and… ugh.” Ariadne frowned, concentrating. Hermione was right, the orbital models did in fact make noise.

“Can’t you tune them out?” Lupin asked, frowning. Hermione shook her head again.

“Sensory issues,” she explained, pointing to her ears. “Can’t tune sounds like that out. There’s also a clock over there, I think.”

“That… must be irritating,” Lupin said. Hermione sniffed in an amused tone, nodding. “Does… does music help? I always find it calming, perhaps we can drown it out?”

“Hmm… sometimes. It depends on the music,” Hermione replied. Professor Lupin nodded.

“Alright then, perhaps we can try this again next week, I’ll bring a record player and we can see if anything works, sound good? Pun unintended.” Ariadne stood up and stepped over to them, offering Lupin back his chocolate. “Oh, no, keep it. I can’t eat it.”

“Huh?” Ariadne spluttered.

“I can’t eat chocolate,” Lupin replied.

“Why not?”

“I’m uh, I’m lactose intolerant,” Professor Lupin said. “Lactose intolerant.” Ariadne frowned, ‘looking’ at him sideways. There was something very off about his expression.

“No you’re not, you put milk in your tea,” Ariadne replied, squinting performatively.

“I suffer for tea,” Lupin said dramatically.

“Is… issssisisisis is it a werewolf thing?” Lupin jumped, stepping back from her before groaning and holding his hands to his head.

“Merlin… I forgot that you two knew for a second there,” the man chuckled. “Yes, it’s a… thing. Chocolate and caffeine don’t agree with me even like this.” Lupin sighed. “You get used to having a secret. It’s… I must admit it’s nice to be able to speak freely about it. It’s been a while.”

“You said a while ago you knew Lily. Did she know?” Ariadne asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Yes, yes she did. James too, as well as… well,” Lupin replied, almost sadly. Nostalgia or grief, Ariadne didn’t know. Perhaps both. If he had been close to the Potters, maybe anyone he’d known was dead now. He was, after all, a well qualified Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, most likely  _ because _ of his time in the war. “Well, we’d best get to dinner,” he added, checking his watch and hopping down the short flight of stairs..

\--

Tired but sleepless, Ariadne lay awake in her bed as an owl hooted outside, thinking about how the day had gone and anxiously checking things off in her mind. Yes, she had taken her potions on time and she’d logged her time travels in her notebook for Madam Pomfrey’s usage. Yes, she’d remembered to write down what homework was required for the next week. The chocolate Lupin had given her was long gone, the wrapper in a bin downstairs.

A strange first day of term, to say the least. She’d learnt the Patronus Charm first time, which was certainly something she took pride in, but it had been preceded by a mystery and Ron accusing Crookshanks of murdering the highly magical Scabbers-

Ariadne shot up in her bed, gasping. Her entire arm erupted into momentary pins and needles as she realized what the Map had picked up.

THAT was what she’d missed.

_ Scabbers _ .

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cliffhanger was too good to resist!


	96. That's Not Possible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing why she can sense Scabbers so easily, Ariadne goes to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penny drops! Tried to get this one out quick because I know this is a suspenseful moment, but it is now one o’clock in the morning for me so I’m gonna get some sleep!

Scabbers was an Animagus.  _ Peter Pettigrew _ was an Animagus.

_ THAT _ was why Ariadne could sense him so easily, why he had the core of a person in a rat’s form. Why he had reacted strangely in Transfiguration over a year before. Why the man had clearly faked his own death, Ariadne had no idea, but answers would only come from the man himself. Cursing herself for her slowness, Ariadne dove to the side of her bed, head breaking from the curtains suddenly, with her hands immediately thrusted into her bag. Once more, she pulled the Marauder’s Map out and frantically grabbed her wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!” she muttered quickly, turning the Map red. “ _ Aurum _ ink!” Before the ink had even had an opportunity to bloom out onto the parchment, she was already searching the first floor, parchment flapping and creaking as she unfolded it.

Nothing on the first floor; McGonagall was just leaving her office, but aside from her, nobody. Second floor.

Professor Severus Snape was walking down a corridor, and Cassius Warrington, a Slytherin prefect and a Chaser on their team, was on the other side of the floor, but again, no Pettigrew.

“Wait… if he…” Ariadne muttered to herself, setting the parchment down with a crunch. “Why would he have faked his own death?”

A bed curtain clattered open to her right.

“‘Adne?” Hermione asked quietly. “It’s midnight, why are you reading?” she groaned.

“Uh- uh.. Sorry!” Ariadne whispered. “Go back to sleep,” she added quietly. Carefully re-folding through the Map, she looked through the third floor as Hermione grumbled and rolled over. Filch was in the third floor corridor outside the Defence classroom as she recast the Blindsight charm as quietly as she could, knowing Hermione had probably heard her anyway. The quicker she located Pettigrew, the better.

What was she going to do, go and look for him? She supposed there wasn’t much else she  _ could _ do, with the twins having stolen the Map from Filch’s office, her ownership of it wasn’t exactly sanctioned and a teacher would never believe such a hare-brained story without proof.

There he was, on the fourth floor, as Ariadne folded over the Advanced Arithmancy Studies classroom. Accompanied by quick and meandering footsteps, was the marker labelled  _ Peter Pettigrew _ . Watching him closely in what would for a sighted person have been their peripheral vision, Ariadne folded the map to keep him visible, and quietly swung her feet out from her bed and into her slippers. She felt around carefully for a moment for her glasses case, and slowly pulled the ever so slightly creaking case open. Immediately, the dorm was illuminated, and she hurriedly put them on and shook her hair out from under the chain. Haphazardly leaving the case on her bed instead of in its usual spot beneath Ginny’s painting, Ariadne padded her way from the dorm as quietly as she could.

As she stepped down the stairs, certain Hermione had heard her leave, another clue filtered into her unfogging brain - Scabbers was missing a toe. Ron had told her that  _ years _ ago. And according to Hermione’s recollection of  _ Aftermath of the Dark War _ , all that was found of Peter Pettigrew had been a finger.

How had she not realized?!

Continuing to be frustrated at herself, she carefully stepped out of the Common Room and onto the staircase landing on the seventh floor. Three floors down, she had to go, but with her glasses and full range of ‘vision,’ evading anyone she needed to would have been child’s play.

She needed a plan. She needed to be able to bring Pettigrew to a teacher, and for that he needed to remain in his rat form for the moment. Forcing him to revert somehow wasn’t an option - not only did she not know the spell, but she also wasn’t exactly capable of forcing a man to follow her by any means short of threats. No, she needed to carry him, which required his compliance and lightness as a rat. Aside from that inconvenient fact, the plan was all too easy; go to where Pettigrew was and catch him.

_ Petrification spell _ , she thought. Ariadne kept her wand out, constantly refreshing her sense of the Map’s ink as she tried to stay to the carpeted centres of the corridors, where her slippers wouldn’t slap against the stone floors noisily. Even if it didn’t attract any undue attention from Percy Weasley or a Professor, it would annoy her. The corridors at this hour were silent as the grave as her footsteps, muffled as they were, filled the halls.

She was getting close, as her heartbeat began to accelerate. Her realization had been less than ten minutes beforehand, and the speed at which she may have been to completely change known wizarding history was giving her mental whiplash.

Something Professor Lupin had said stuck in her head as her own label found its way onto the same patch of map as Peter - Pettigrew was only a few corridors away. When Sirius Black had broken into the castle, Lupin had said he’d gone to the boys’ dormitory, not the girls’.

Sirius Black wasn’t looking for  _ her _ . He had been looking for Peter Pettigrew, to finish the job. But why then had Pettigrew hid? He could be scared of Sirius, but why then for the last twelve years? Sirius had been in Azkaban, he could have come out of hiding and be hailed a hero.

Why spend twelve years hiding from a man known to be under the most inescapable lock and key known to wizardkind? For that matter, how had Sirius even known he was in the castle?

Regardless, only Pettigrew himself could tell her the answer to that, and for that she needed to catch him. And he was just around the corner, moving toward her down a long corridor. Letting the  _ Aurum _ spell on the ink drop, Ariadne poised her wand and stepped out.

“Peter,” she called quietly, her wand aimed down the hall. “Peter Pettigrew.” The tiny orange and green blob not twenty feet away from her froze, spiking in fear. “I can see you. I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to come with me.” Pettigrew didn’t move. “We’re going to Professor Dumbledore.” At that, Pettigrew span. “ _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed, a burst of purple magic flying out toward the zig-zagging rat.

And over its head.

“Crap.  _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” she cast again, missing the rat by inches as he sprinted back away from her, turning a corner and vanishing from her sight. Jogging angrily, she flipped the Map back up to show the panel of their area at her side, not needing to face it to sense the marker labelled  _ Severus Snape _ coming up a side corridor. Eyes widening, Ariadne tapped her wand into the map. “Mischief managed,” she whispered, staying as quiet as possible as the dark blue and green core of Professor Snape appeared in the corridor behind her, wand out as he turned toward her. Ariadne quietly stuffed the map into the pocket of the hoodie she’d worn over her pajamas to compensate for the winter cold.

The familiar glow of the  _ Lumos _ spell glared into existence in front of her.

“Granger,” Snape spat. “What are you doing wandering the corridors at night?” The man was still wearing the same clothes she swore he wore every day, including his long robe.

“S-s-... sl-slslse-sleep… walking,” Ariadne lied. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

“With glasses on, and wand out? You possess a number of skills, Miss Granger,  _ lying _ is not one of them,” Snape snarled. “Miss Weasley sleepwalks on occasion,  _ you _ have nightmares.” Ariadne frowned.

“How-how-how-” she spluttered.

“It is, unfortunately, part of my duty to keep an  _ eye _ on my students, your publicity is by necessity a part of that, Miss Granger. Or is your memory as poor as your eyesight?” Ariadne let her eyelids tense ever so slightly in resentment of the man. Snape lowered his wand slightly. “Turn out your pockets.” Performatively, Ariadne felt into her hoodie pocket, frowning as she pulled out the Map in its orange magic. “What’s this?” Snape asked, stepping forward.

“Spare bit of parchment,” Ariadne lied again. “F-f-f-ffor-for-for note-notetaking. Did-didn’t know I had-had this.”

“Really. Open it,” Snape said dryly. Slipping her wand back into her pocket, Ariadne unfolded the Map, shrugging. She drew back by a centimetre or two as Snape pressed the end of his wand into the fold. Did Snape know what it was already?! “Reveal… your secrets,” Snape hissed, as a burst of blue magic made Ariadne flinch. The map itself flashed, but it did not go red, rather a shade of burgundy. Ariadne frowned. “Read it,” Snape ordered. Fumbling with her wand, Ariadne pointed it into the Map.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink.”  _ Oh dear _ . “Uh…”

“ _ Read it. _ ”

“Me-messrs. Moony… Wormtail… Padfoot… and Prongs…” Ariadne grimaced. “Ugh. Offer their compliments to Professor Snape and…” Gulp.

“Go on,” Professor Snape told her, his face indicating he was less than impressed. That did not bode well. Ariadne took a breath.

“And… and-and-and-and-and re-r-r-r-r-request he keep his… er, his ab-ab-abnorm-abnorm-abnormally l-large nose… out of other people’s business,” Ariadne stammered slowly as she heard footsteps behind Professor Snape and Professor Lupin’s fungal magic stepped out from the opposite corridor Snape’s had.

“ _ Why you insolent little- _ ” Snape hissed.

“Professor!” Professor Lupin called from behind him, and he span suddenly while Ariadne shrank in on herself.  _ That _ had been mortifying, and some warning that that would be the Map’s response to revealing magic would have been nice.

“Well well, Lupin,” Professor Snape said dryly. “Out for a little walk… in the  _ moonlight _ , are we?” Ariadne scowled as Lupin raised an eyebrow ever so slightly and looked over to her.

“Ariadne, are you all right?” Professor Lupin asked, stepping around Snape.

“That remains to be seen,” Snape growled, suddenly leaping toward Ariadne as she spluttered and flinched, tearing the Map from her hand. “I have just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Miss Granger, take a look, Lupin.” Snape tipped it toward him. “Supposed to be your area of expertise. Clearly it’s full of  _ dark _ magic.” Ariadne frowned as Lupin chuckled.

“I seriously doubt it Severus, for multiple reasons. One, I don’t believe  _ any _ dark magic would get past Miss Granger here, and two, it looks as though it’s merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it! I suspect it’s a Zonko product.” Lupin held the map away as Snape tried to reach for it, smiling. “ _ Nevertheless _ . I shall investigate any hidden qualities it may possess, it is, after all, as you say, my area of expertise. Ariadne, would you come with me please?” Ariadne hurriedly scuttled away toward Lupin as Snape flicked his wand toward her again. “Professor, good night.” Lupin began leading her down the corridor toward a flight of stairs that led nearest to his office.

“Oi! Put that light out!” a sourceless voice exclaimed, as Ariadne spun. “We’re trying to sleep here!” Professor Lupin snorted as Ariadne realized it was the paintings. Snape swooped away, flicking his wand to put it out. Once they were far enough away, and not surrounded by sentient paintings, Ariadne leant toward Lupin.

“He’s  _ still _ trying to out you,” she whispered.

“Yes, he’s been doing that since we were schoolkids. I wouldn’t worry about his passive aggressive tricks. Come on,” Lupin replied quietly, with a great deal less warmth in his voice than Ariadne was used to. She walked in silence as Lupin led her to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

“Come in,” he said, ushering Ariadne into the classroom and closing the door behind them. “Now I haven’t the faintest idea, Ariadne, how this map came to be in your possession.” Ariadne drew back as he led her down a row of seats. Lupin knew what it was? But he’d only been a Professor for a few months, Filch hadn’t held it in years. “But quite frankly I am  _ astounded _ that you didn’t hand it in. Did it never occur to you that this, in the hands of Sirius Black is a map to you?” Ariadne shook her head, cutting Lupin off as he started talking again and stepped toward her.

“He’s not-he’s not looking for me, Professor. He’s looking for Peter Pettigrew.” Lupin froze in his tracks.

“You-.. What?” Lupin spluttered. “That’s not possible, Peter’s been dead for twelve years.” Ariadne shook her head again.

“No he hasn’t. He’s an animagus, a rat, Ron’s rat. I saw him on the map last night and asked Ron, he must have heard me ask and run. I almost had him before Snape caught me. I can see him, I should have realized sooner that he wasn’t a rat!” Ariadne ranted, angry at herself. Lupin veritably jumped backward, his mouth hanging open as he held onto a desk, his eyes wide.

“Who…  _ who told you that? _ ” Lupin asked her, his voice and breath shaking. Ariadne frowned.

“N-n-n-n-no-nobody. I saw him on the map last night in Ron’s dorm, and this morning ‘Scabbers’ went missing and I saw that Pettigrew wasn’t in the dorm anymore,” Ariadne replied. Lupin only seemed more panicked, leaning on a desk and breathing heavily. “I thought it might have been a glitch, but I saw him just now, almost got him too.” Lupin shook his head.

“The map never lies,” Lupin muttered. “The Map never lies!” he exclaimed. “No… I know you’re telling the truth right now because nobody could  _ possibly  _ have told you.”

“Wh-wh-wait-what do you-” she spluttered.

“There are only two people  _ alive  _ who know that Peter Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus with a rat form,” Lupin told her, straightening resolutely. “Myself, and Sirius Black,” he snarled. “Come on! We need to go to Professor Dumbledore,  _ right now _ ,” he almost yelled, heading off down toward the door as Ariadne floundered and tailed him.

“Wh-what-how-what?!” Ariadne exclaimed as he veritably stormed down the hall to the Grand Staircase and she struggled to keep up. “How do  _ you _ know?!”

“Because I helped him become one, now come on!” Lupin called back, still carrying the Map. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!” he growled, pointing his wand into it. “Fourth floor… aha. Ariadne, can you keep an eye on him and walk at the same time?”

“Yes, sir!” Ariadne called, before flinching as Lupin tossed her the Map, its shadow lurching onto the walls for two seconds.

“Keep an eye on him, tell me if he goes anywhere,” Lupin said as he began purposefully descending the stairs. Ariadne hurriedly cast the Aurum spell on the ink, watching the constant footsteps of Pettigrew flounder as she followed him. The pair flew to the great gargoyle of Professor Dumbledore’s office entrance, and Lupin paused while Ariadne caught her breath. “Cockroach Clusters!” Lupin called, hurriedly stepping up onto the rotating staircase as Ariadne’s buzzing mind - buzzing both figuratively and from the almost-run she’d had to employ to keep up with the Professor - realized something.

“ _ That’s _ why you know about the Map! You’re Mooney!” she exclaimed, smiling.

“Yes, I helped make it, but that’s not strictly relevant right now Ariadne,” Lupin replied, before the staircase crashed to a stop and he immediately stepped to Dumbledore’s office door, hammering on it. “Professor! Are you up?!” he called insistently. The door swung open quickly, and Lupin stepped in.

“Indeed I am, Remus, good evening. To what do I owe- Miss Granger? What is this, Professor Lupin?” Dumbledore called from his desk, before standing and beginning to stride around to them as Ariadne followed Lupin.

“Good evening Professor. My apologies for the late notice, but we have reason to believe that Peter Pettigrew is alive and well as an Animagus rat, currently living in the castle,” Lupin replied shakily.

“Fourth floor, west side corridor, to be specific,” Ariadne piped up, holding up the Map.

“Ah, the Marauder’s Map. A creation of yours, I believe, Remus?” Dumbledore sighed. “What makes you think its evidence is accurate?”

“Because Ariadne can see him,” Lupin replied. “He had been taking the form of Ronald Weasley’s rat, Scabbers. Ariadne realized this... this evening I must assume? And went to find him, but was prevented by a surprisingly well-intentioned Severus.” He added, looking over to Ariadne.

“Magical core just like a person stuffed into a rat form, labelled  _ Peter Pettigrew _ on the map,” Ariadne explained. “I’d almost got him to bring him to you, Professor, but Snape was coming.”

“I suppose I cannot fault your considerable initiative,” Professor Dumbledore said, peering over his own glasses. “The survival of Peter Pettigrew holds some concerning implications regarding the case of Sirius Black.”

“I think he tried to kill Pettigrew that time he got in, sir, not me,” Ariadne told him, slurring a few words.

“Likely, given his trajectory. One moment, Remus.” Dumbledore stepped away, setting his glittering white wand to his throat. “All teachers, please seal the castle as discretely as possible. Nothing in, nothing out, not even the smallest crack in the walls. Professor Lupin, Miss Ariadne Granger and I will be pursuing an unregistered Animagus fugitive. Prefects, please ensure no students are out of bed aside from Ariadne Granger, and retreat to your respective dormitories,” he muttered, his wand emanating a purple glow into his throat.

“Shouldn’t Ariadne go back to her dormitory?” Professor Lupin asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

“A rat would be well at home in the dark, Professor Lupin, even with your keen senses and the Marauder’s Map. However, I doubt Pettigrew has the capability of hiding from Ariadne here,” Dumbledore replied.

“He’s bright green and orange to me, sir,” she told him, shaking her head. “Can’t hide from me.” She grinned smugly.

“Excellent work, Ariadne,” Professor Dumbledore said, nodding to her and smiling.

“We’d better get a move on, before Peter figures out what’s happening,” Lupin told them, half-turning toward the door. “Where is he, Ariadne?”

“Still on the fourth floor, but seems to be moving toward a staircase to the fifth,” Ariadne reported. “Yes, he’s going to the fifth.”

“Lead the way, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore said, extending a hand toward the door. Stepping out with Professors Dumbledore and Lupin right behind her, a trill of chill ran down her spine, as the hunt began for Peter Pettigrew.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE WE GO!


	97. Rat Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Hogwarts’ best Animagus-hound available, Ariadne leads Professor Dumbledore and Professor Lupin on the hunt for Peter Pettigrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grandparents came over so I lost my trains of thought noooooooooo (I am in New Zealand, worry not, COVID is not an issue here. Americans, Brits, make sure your butts stay well away from your grandparents, social isolation for the naughty countries!)

Ariadne almost fell down the stairs as she hurriedly descended the gargoyle spiral, Professors Dumbledore and Lupin in close pursuit. Reaching the first floor landing, she hurried away from the Great Hall, where she could hear the gigantic doors being barred, toward the nearest staircases.

“ _ Aurum  _ ink,” she repeated, poking her wand at the map in her hand as she walked.

“Want me to hold that?” Lupin asked, leaning forward. “Recasting every minute could be inconvenient, particularly when we get close.” Ariadne nodded, handing him the Map before beginning to hurry up stairs as fast as she could. “Whoop-” Lupin almost tripped behind her, before flicking his wand to bring a blob of  _ Lumos _ up. “Another advantage on your side, Ariadne; you don’t need light.”

“Nope,” Ariadne replied. “Even if Pettigrew weren’t magical, I’d still be able to sense him perfectly in the dark with these,” she added, tapping her glasses.

“Yes, you’re the perfect bloodhound for the job, don’t let it go to your head,” Lupin replied.

“Our immediate goal is to capture Peter Pettigrew,” Professor Dumbledore ordered. “Whether my concerns about the implications are founded or not, his survival is still of immediate note to the case of Sirius Black and he must be questioned.”

“Implications, Professor?” Ariadne asked, turning to him from the second floor landing.

“If Peter Pettigrew staged his own death, it is likely that the very charge for which Black was sentenced to Azkaban, the murder of thirteen people including Pettigrew himself, may not be as we think it is. And if  _ that _ was a deception, perhaps Sirius was never the traitor in the first place,” Dumbledore explained.

“Traitor?” Dumbledore sighed, stopping for a moment.

“It is a story I should have told you sooner, Ariadne,” Dumbledore lamented. Lupin snorted. “I’m aware of your feelings on the matter, Remus, you’ll be surprised to know you share them with Severus.” Professor Lupin made a retching sound as they turned a corner toward a staircase leading onto the third floor. “Your parents were of particular interest to Lord Voldemort, but their position was... hidden from him. Sirius Black was one of their closest friends, as were Remus here and the very man we are now moving to capture. Black, it is believed, betrayed their position to Lord Voldemort, ultimately leading to their murder,” Dumbledore told her solemnly.

“And if-and if... Pettigrew is alive… you think it might have been him all along?” Ariadne asked quietly. Even if she did not hold the Potters as her true family, their deaths certainly were not a laughing matter to her.

“As I said,” Dumbledore replied. “Implications. We do not have time to fully explore this matter, I must hope you can refrain from any rash behaviour when we find him.”

“Yes, Professor,” Ariadne nodded. “I-I don’t really… I never knew them,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just… there’s nothing  _ there _ , you know?”

“You’d have liked them, if it means anything,” Lupin said, looking intently at the Map. “Lily was so glad for you. Merlin, if only she could see you now. Peter’s moved, he’s over on the east side of the fifth floor now. Doesn’t seem to be making for any staircases just yet.” Ariadne smiled, before frowning.

“Was-w-w-was that what Snape wanted you to tell me that night?” Ariadne asked. Dumbledore frowned. “When Sirius got in.” Dumbledore sighed ever so slightly, and Lupin stopped.

“If you don’t tell her, I will,” Lupin said sternly from ahead of her. “She should have known from the beginning, even if she doesn’t see the Potters as her family. She has that right.”

“Unfortunately, I must agree that she needs context, even if it will potentially delay us. Remus,” Dumbledore grumbled, a forlorn look spreading across his features behind Ariadne, whose face had gone grim.

“James, Peter, Sirius, and I, were close friends at Hogwarts, and remained so for many years as Voldemort was amassing his forces,” Remus said solemnly, briefly looking back at Ariadne as he kept an eye on the map and his own course. “I was Mooney, as you guessed. Padfoot, Sirius. Wormtail, Peter, and Prongs was James. I can tell you why those names later, but what’s important is we were close. We were like brothers. During the war, we fought on the Order of the Phoenix.” Lupin sighed. “Lily got pregnant at the height of the war, and they went into hiding at Godric’s Hollow. As you know, their location was betrayed.” Lupin sighed, stopping and turning to Ariadne with perhaps the most tired, most haunted expression she’d ever seen on the man. “But before that happened, you were born. And Sirius was there when you were; Sirius Black was named your godfather.”

“And he betrayed them,” Ariadne muttered, her face going slack as her mouth hung open in shock. “Betrayed  _ me _ .”

“So we thought. Maybe tonight will change that,” Lupin replied quietly. “One of them did, that much we know. It depends on who was the Secret Keeper. As far as we all knew, it was Sirius, but maybe that was a false trail. James always did enjoy bait-and-switch traps.” Ariadne didn’t continue moving as Lupin started walking, before he turned back to her, confused.

“They… they were your brothers and until now, you thought two were dead and the other betrayed you…” Ariadne mumbled, stepping over to the man. “The family you chose.” Ariadne could not help but imagine, horrified, what it would be like if her parents died and Hermione betrayed her. Lupin smiled wryly.

“Let’s see if any of the family is still left, huh?” The man said, turning and striding toward the staircase, flapping the map out as he sniffed. “Peter’s moved, he’s between a staircase and the Muggle Studies classroom,” he called as he span between the staircases toward the fifth floor. “All right, Ariadne, you’re in the lead now. I’ll tell you if he moves.. Er-” Lupin frowned at the map, looking up at Ariadne. “Professor Dumbledore,” he called quietly, showing the old man the map around Ariadne.

“Curious,” Professor Dumbledore said, also looking up at Ariadne.

“What-what-what is it?” Ariadne asked urgently.

“Nothing for you to worry about, just… don’t worry. Focus on finding Pettigrew, you’ll know soon enough,” Lupin replied, hurriedly. Ariadne frowned. She didn’t like being kept out of the loop. “Remember, cast to capture, not harm.”

“Petrificus spell,” Ariadne replied, nodding. Lupin waved his head, confused.

“Wait, you  _ know _ that one?!” he spluttered quietly.

“Mhmm,” Ariadne hummed. “Have since fi-since-fince-since first year.” Lupin looked at her incredulously, almost speechless.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised, you figured out the Patronus charm in less than a minute this afternoon,” Lupin muttered. “Come on, we’re right behind you.” Professor Lupin let Ariadne pass and waited until both he and Dumbledore had made their ways up the stairs to the fifth floor before wordlessly dropping the  _ Lumos _ spell, presumably plunging the hall into darkness. Unaffected, Ariadne stepped forward slowly, breathing gradually and deliberately and holding her wand out in front of her. The floor creaked ever so slightly as she realized she was still wearing her pajamas and matching bunny rabbit slippers with a bemused snort.

Stealthily padding her way toward the hiding Animagus fugitive in bunny rabbit pajamas, slippers and a hoodie, Ariadne paused as she reached the corner, raising her wand. She didn’t see a reason why Pettigrew would be hiding if he  _ hadn’t _ framed Sirius Black, and even if there was one, she couldn’t discount that the man may have killed 12 non-magical people to fake his own death.

Worst case scenario, the rat in the corridor was a murderer who’d served Voldemort in secret. He wasn’t getting a second chance to run.

Ariadne leapt out from the corner.

Under a table, beside the wall to her right, sat the green and orange glare that was Peter Pettigrew.

“ _ Petrif-ifitifiricifitif-  _ GAH!  _ Petrificagh-Petrificus Totalus _ !” she cried, yelling in anger as the damnable incantation tangled her vocal chords into a loop and the purple burst was a dozen feet away from the freshly escaping Peter Pettigrew. “ _ THE ONE TIME! _ ” she shouted as Pettigrew began scuttling off. Her face must have been redder than a rose and her ears roared with how furious she was with herself.

She was running after him before she’d even comprehended she was, Professors Lupin and Dumbledore in pursuit. Her footsteps slammed along the stone floor as she veritably prayed she didn’t slip over - slippers were hardly designed for running in.

“ _ What happened?! _ ” Professor Lupin exclaimed as his footsteps thumped along behind her as she poised her wand again.

“ _ Petrifi.. Petrificus Totalus! _ ” The lavender blast  _ almost _ slammed directly into Pettigrew before he darted sideways and through a doorway. “Thethethethethethethethe incantation it.. gah! Stammer!” she cried, sprinting hesitantly as she was forced to toward the Muggle Studies classroom Peter had just darted into.

“He’s going for the Muggle Studies room!” Lupin exclaimed as Ariadne stumbled into the classroom. “Try  _ Stupefy _ , it’ll be easier to say!”

“Right!” Ariadne called, waving her hand in response. “ _ Stupefy! _ ” she cried, blasting a spell straight at the rat and clipping a table-leg, the smell of burning wood immediately flaring into existence. “ _ Immobulus! _ ” she tried, the pale blue wave failing to catch Peter as he jumped behind the television. He must have hit a switch or something, as the screaming and thumping synths of the  _ Doctor Who _ theme began to play in earnest, starting right in the middle of what sounded like the end titles of  _ Remembrance of the Daleks _ . Ariadne swore as she tried to throw another petrification spell at him, slurring through the entire thing and not even producing a spell in the first place. “Help me!” she yelled.

“We can’t see him, Ariadne!” Professor Lupin yelled back over the cacophony of music, following her and furiously checking the Map as she sprinted as best she could down the rows of desks, following Pettigrew toward the back door.

“Woah!” Ariadne exclaimed as she tripped over the power cord of the television, somehow not pulling it out as her nose slammed into the floor. “Gah!”

“You all right?!” Lupin called as he hurried toward her. Ariadne pulled herself up quickly, almost growling in anger that overrode the pain that was exploding through her face.

“There’s a cable there, don’t trip on it!” Ariadne yelled as she stood.

“He’s going for the sixth floor staircase, we’d better hurry before he finds a window to climb out of!” Lupin called. Ariadne scrambled for the door and slammed through it, meeting back up with a hurrying Dumbledore who’d looped around with his wand lit with  _ Lumos _ .

“ _ Stupefy! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed desperately as her jinx slammed into the staircase behind Pettigrew as the rat man scrambled up them. “I thought Dumbledore ordered the castle sealed?!”

“The windows take a moment!” Professor Dumbledore grumbled as he climbed the stairs purposefully behind Ariadne.

“THERE!” Ariadne yelled, thrusting her wand out as she peered over the top of the stairs, her heartrate through the roof. “ _ STUPEFY! _ ” she cried, before drawing back suddenly.

A wave of blue magic had just shot from the doorway Pettigrew had run into - the way up to the Astronomy balcony - and revealed a sliver of hallway to her. And then again. Exactly two seconds later, it happened again.

The  _ Aurum Radia _ spell.

Frowning in utter confusion, Ariadne ran to the door and came to a screeching halt as she was greeted by a short figure, with glowing blue glasses frames which pulsed with magic, a Time Turner around her neck, a hoodie over her pajamas and slippers with tiny rabbit ears poking off of them, who was holding a golden wand and the slightly glimmering form of a successfully petrified magically panicking rat hanging from the scruff of his neck in her other hand. The figure’s magical core was red and purple, with green flecks and black-and-white blobs hanging dully within it.

She was greeted by  _ herself _ .

Behind her other self, lay two magical items - one red, clearly the Marauder’s Map, and the other a glowing green bundle. Ariadne, the  _ other _ Ariadne, smiled at her, before bending her neck briefly and flexing her eyebrows as Professor Lupin and Dumbledore caught up.

“Nicely done, Ariadne,” Professor Lupin almost growled, panting. “That was what we saw on the Map earlier.” Panting, Ariadne smiled whimsically.

It was the first time, and probably last time, she’d ever ‘seen’ herself properly - not including her counterpart. Her hair wasn’t tied back, so it cascaded down her shoulders in waves as the other her smiled gently at herself. The pajamas were a bit baggy on her, as was the one size too large hoodie, but she had to admit it was a look even if it clashed with the formal-looking glasses with their chain.

She couldn’t get carried away. She was surprised to like how she looked, but this was  _ not _ the time. Ariadne turned to Professor Lupin.

“Give me the Map,” she said quietly. “She’s-she’s got it, and this is a predestination paradox now.” Lupin nodded hurriedly, handing it to her. 

“You know the laws, Miss Granger. You must not be seen by anyone else, not even by yourself until this point.” Dumbledore told her as she began to hurry off. “One turn should do it.” Ariadne nodded resolutely and started walking purposefully toward the Great Staircase chamber and the seventh floor entrance to Gryffindor Tower.

She needed two things. The green bundle, she was pretty sure had been the Invisibility Cloak, which would help her go undetected before Dumbledore had ordered the castle sealed. The other, obviously, the Time Turner which sat in her bedside drawers. She wasn’t even wearing her watch, she realized, but it was possible it had been under the sleeve of her counterpart.  _ That _ at least wouldn’t be part of the paradox as she hadn’t noticed it beforehand. Stuffing the Map into her pocket without bothering to deactivate it, Ariadne hurried up the stairs with her fingers crossed that they wouldn’t change. Luck, it seemed, was on her side that night as she successfully ascended to the dormitory landing.

“Flibber-flib-flibber-f-f-f-f-f… F-flibber...ti...gibbet,” Ariadne spluttered before slowing down.

“Got there in the end,” the Fat Lady said out of the flat magical slab she stood in, the door swinging open as Ariadne hurried in, striding across the carpet quickly. She wasn’t in any particular rush, she was going to have to wait half an hour just for her past self to get moving, let alone grab Pettigrew, but she was instinctively hurrying so she’d be there in time. Ariadne forced herself to slow down, climbing the staircase as slowly as it took to make sure she didn’t wake anyone up.

She needed to pee anyway, and she had half an hour to spare, so instead of holding it for an hour as she waited for Pettigrew, she went back down to the bathroom to relieve herself.

Stepping back into the dormitory, Ariadne made a beeline for her bedside, and as she set her glasses case back down in its spot below  _ And The Stars Look Very Different Today  _ and opened the drawer, Hermione stirred.

“‘Adne?” Hermione grumbled. “Did you… did you just go to the bathroom for  _ half an hour _ ?” Ariadne jumped.

“Er… no,” Ariadne whispered.

“So where  _ did _ you go?” Hermione asked, rolling over and pulling her curtain open. She was squinting in the dark, her jaw tense. “And why are you getting your Time Turner?”

“Um… I’ll-I’ll tell-I’ll tell you in the morning,” Ariadne told her, fastening the Turner around her neck. “Can’t tell you now,” she added as she fastened her watch onto her wrist and began quietly rummaging through her trunk for the immediately green-glowing Invisibility Cloak. She’d navigate by the Map. “Having trouble sleeping?”

“Hmm,” Hermione nodded. “There’s an owl outside, keeping me up.”

“Earmuffs?”

“Not helping,” Hermione grumbled, tapping them on her bedside table. “The plastic’s too cold.” Ariadne grimaced. “I’ll go nap in the Hospital Wing in the morning if it doesn’t shut up.”

“Sorry, I gotta go,” Ariadne said quietly, checking her enchanted watch. It was quarter to one in the morning, and giving herself ten minutes since Pettigrew, she needed to be ready by effectively half past 12. “Try get some sleep,” she added, offering to hug Hermione. Detaching from her, Ariadne shuffled down the stairs quickly and quietly, the Cloak under her arm. Searching around, she eventually stepped into a tiny closet where she found her time travel shadow, and sat down on a box, closing the door.

One turn.

Yellow light blared around her as her watch clicked back and she was greeted by darkness before her glasses kicked in a second later. Slowly, she stepped out of the cupboard and slipped out of the Common Room, turning to the Fat Lady.

“I just travelled backward in time, Dumbledore told me to.  _ Don’t _ tell me I did this when I come out again in half an hour, okay?” Ariadne whispered. “There’s already a paradox happening, I don’t want to make another.”

“Hmm? Got it,” the Fat Lady replied quietly but tiredly. “No telling Granger she just left.” Ariadne nodded, before throwing the Cloak over herself. She needed to go somewhere she wouldn’t be seen by herself on the Map, which meant the sixth floor, preferably the Astronomy Tower which was on a folded section she hadn’t checked. Just getting there was going to take time even though she was only a floor away, as she pulled out the Map and cast the Blindsight charm on it, carefully watching her own icon’s footsteps as she walked to know where the walls were. She could only sense the bright green magic of the Invisibility Cloak’s folds surrounding her and the gentle coating of blue around her feet, and she had to take the stairs carefully, shuddering at the memory of their almost-capture by Filch in her first year when they’d gone to head off Professor Quirrell.

She knew she couldn’t just go and grab Pettigrew early. All of the events had to happen uninterrupted, or else the compounding paradoxes could rip her entire being apart to compensate. Bad things happened to witches who meddled with time. Eventually, however, she sat in the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, making sure her marker was well off any of the sections she’d seen, covered in the green Invisibility Cloak.

It was strangely like camping, or like a blanket fort, as she wished she’d brought a pillow to sit on. She could have gone and fetched one, as she had half an hour checking her watch, but she didn’t feel like risking it. She’d just have to deal with the literal pain in the arse that was sitting on the stone floor, which was at least carpeted.

Finally, as exhaustion from her long and sleepless day threatened to hit her, she began to hear a commotion below and sat up, watching her second icon chase Peter’s.

“Petrificus Totalus, Petrificus Totalus, Petrificus Totalus,” she murmured to herself, making sure she could get it. She just needed to be careful. She had the element of surprise, and could afford to.

She heard herself trip up over the television cable, and poised her wand, ready to pull the Cloak off.

“THERE!  _ STUPEFY! _ ” she heard herself bellow, surprised at the sound of her own voice. She’d been afraid that her voice might have broken badly, but her fears had been unfounded thanks to Pomfrey’s potions. With no time to think about it, Ariadne threw the cloak off herself as Pettigrew’s icon rounded the corner and indeed, an orange and green blob greeted her.

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ ,” she cast measuredly as her past self’s jinx slammed into the doorway.

The purple wave cascaded over Pettigrew’s tiny form, as Ariadne’s glasses illuminated the room, a glistening shell surrounding him as he froze, panicking. Ariadne hurried over, grabbing the rat by the scruff of his neck and holding him up in the air.

From the door came the panting, frowning form of the past Ariadne Granger, who gasped.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy did I enjoy this!   
> Please enjoy imagining the Seventh Doctor’s theme playing muffled in the background of that scene.


	98. Names to Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being captured by a time-travelling Ariadne, Peter Pettigrew has some explaining to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Deadnaming/misgendering (accidental)

Ariadne faced the past Ariadne with a welcoming smile, as she held Petter Pettigrew up in the air by the scruff of his neck, petrified, her golden wand pointed resolutely at the rat. Her past self was practically frozen, gaping at her in brief confusion before Ariadne knew she’d figured it out.

“Nicely done, Ariadne,” Professor Lupin congratulated her, coming to a stop in the doorway before turning to her past self, who Ariadne knew to be staring at her - it must have seemed strange to everyone else or even unnerving, how she could do that without even facing them - and taking a breath. “That was what we saw on the Map earlier.”

The past Ariadne smiled and half-gasped at her future self, taking in her own appearance for the first time before she span to Professor Lupin. Sensing it from the back, Ariadne suppressed a laugh at just how messy her past self’s hair was after the chase, it really did tend to become a bird’s nest without Sleek-Eazy. 

“Give me the Map,” the other Ariadne said. “She’s-she’s got it, and this is a predestination paradox now.” Nodding, Professor Lupin handed the Marauder’s Map to her past self and she began to jog out of the room. Professor Dumbledore caught her by the shoulders.

“You know the laws, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said. “You must not be seen by anyone else, not even by yourself until this point. One turn should do it.” Nodding, the past Ariadne span off, her quiet footsteps pattering away as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Ariadne released the breath she’d been holding, relaxing as she confirmed the timeline hadn’t been changed.

“Excellent idea, Ariadne,” Professor Lupin said, as Ariadne shook her head.

“No-one had an idea, it’s a bootstrap paradox,” she replied. “Supposed to avoid them.”

“No harm has been done, it seems,” Professor Dumbledore said calmly. “For now, we have a new task. Please release the Petrification spell, Miss Granger.” Ariadne nodded, mentally willing the spell to end as Pettigrew began squirming wildly in her hand. Professor Lupin raised his wand as Dumbledore waved his arms across the room, a wave of red particles lighting lanterns around the corridor. With a flourish, Lupin sent a vibrating wave of orange distortions through the rat and Ariadne dropped him reflexively as the weight on her arm began to increase exponentially, the magical core of Peter Pettigrew expanding out before taking its place in the middle of the humanoid figure which formed on the ground, writhing as if he was still caught, sniffling and grunting like he was still a rat. It was almost like he hadn’t realized he’d been reverted as Ariadne stepped back from the man on the floor.

Pettigrew was short and hunched as he stood up hesitantly, his eyes blinking as he realized his surroundings had changed size, still holding his almost clawed hands up in front of him. He was wearing perhaps the most tattered suit jacket and trousers Ariadne had ever sensed, and his hair was patchy and unkempt. Even his teeth still resembled his rat form in some way, as she noticed he still had his mouth ever so slightly open to reveal two large front teeth - to be fair, not unlike Hermione’s, but almost certainly nowhere near as well kept.

“Remus?” Pettigrew asked, his voice lilting as Ariadne could still sense fear in his core. “My old friend!” he cried, before trying to barrel between Professor Lupin and Dumbledore, Dumbledore waving a hand and pushing Pettigrew back with a wave of blue energy as Lupin moved to block him, his wand poised at the man. Ariadne kept her own wand pointed at Pettigrew’s back as the man span about, looking for an escape route. His face locked onto her own, his eyes wide. “Ariadne! Look at you…” he whimpered, smiling. “You look so much like your mother, like Lily, we were the best of friends, they and I-” he added as Ariadne grimaced, flexing her arm and pointing her wand at his throat before Lupin stepped forward, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him away from Ariadne.

“You sold Lily and James to Voldemort, didn’t you?!” Lupin yelled as Professor Dumbledore stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched intensely.

“I didn’t mean to!” Pettigrew wailed, folding in on himself as he leant on a table. “The Dark Lord-”

“ **_LIAR_ ** !” Lupin bellowed. “YOU HAD TO BE  _ WILLING _ , YOU SOLD THEM OUT! YOU GOT THEM KILLED!” Pettigrew flinched, the magic of his core only getting more frantic as he span about on the spot. Heart thumping like mad, Ariadne threw herself in the way as Pettigrew dove for the Invisibility Cloak which still lay crumpled on the floor.

“Would-wouldn’t-wouldn’t have worked, Peter, I can sense that too,” Ariadne told him smugly. “It’s why I don’t use it much, I can’t see through it like you can,” she added, flicking her eyebrows at the man.

“Ariadne!” Pettigrew wailed. “James wouldn’t have wanted me killed!” he pleaded, trying to go for her shoulders but only getting a wand in the chest as Ariadne stepped back, pushing the Cloak away with her foot. “Sweet girl, clever girl! Surely you wont-”

“Get away from her!” Lupin snarled, pulling him back again with considerable effort. “You’re not worthy of speaking her  _ name _ !” Dumbledore still wasn’t getting involved, as he stood silently.

“I never knew James,” Ariadne said, her voice dripping with ice as she took a step toward Pettigrew, who flinched from her. “Nor did I know Lily. I don’t really care what they would have wanted.”

“And you’re why!” Lupin exclaimed. “You might as well have thrown the curse yourself! SIRIUS HAS BEEN IN AZKABAN FOR TWELVE YEARS BECAUSE OF YOU!” he yelled.

“You murdered twelve people and framed Sirius Black for it,” Ariadne whispered menacingly. “You might as well have murdered James and Lily Potter, and who knows what  _ else  _ you did for Voldemort.” She twisted her wand. “ _ Petrificus Totalus _ .” Pettigrew was locked in position as he had no chance to dodge it, slamming to the floor as he gained a little height from the rigid stance the spell forced him into. “You can have Sirius Black’s cell in Azkaban,” she added, looming over him. Dumbledore nodded and conjured a glass vial, before raising his wand to his own temple. Ariadne jumped, fearing Dumbledore’s motion as a bead of pale green light spread through the Headmaster’s head, before reconvening at his wand and forming a thread which he pulled away and let fall into the no longer glowing vial.

“What was that?” Ariadne asked as Dumbledore stoppered the vial.

“Hmm?” Dumbledore hummed. “Ah, this, dear girl, is a memory. It will be helpful at Pettigrew’s trial, I should believe,” he replied, pocketing the tube. Lupin snorted.

“He doesn’t deserve a trial,” Professor Lupin snarled. “Sirius never got one.”

“A  _ memory _ ? You can do that?” Ariadne frowned, facing between the two with a horrified expression at what Lupin had just revealed. How else could the wizarding world horrify her?

“Using a device called a Pensieve, yes. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble looking it up later.” With that, Dumbledore flicked his wand at the still-petrified Pettigrew, a silver sheen causing him to levitate as Professor Lupin took a haggard breath, leaning on the edge of a small table. A purple gleam met Dumbledore’s throat as he held his wand up. “Professors Snape and McGonagall, your presence is required on the sixth floor, Astronomy Tower entrance corridor. Peter Pettigrew has been apprehended and requires containment measures appropriate for an Animagus. Professor Flitwick, we will require a contingent of Dementors posted at the Dark Tower, as well as any charms you deem appropriate,” he murmured. “Miss Granger, if I could impose upon you for just a few more minutes, I need news of this sent to the Ministry as soon as possible. If it’s not too much trouble, I know it must have been a long day for you.”

“I-I-I-I can do that,” Ariadne said shakily, nodding. “What do you need me to tell… who?” she asked, yawning.

“Cornelius Fudge, Minister For Magic,” Dumbledore replied. “Inform him that we have apprehended the living Peter Pettigrew and as such have evidence that Sirius Black is innocent of all charges he was imprisoned for. Any further details I will leave to your discretion. Make sure you note you are writing on my behalf on the envelope, otherwise the Minister won’t get it.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” Ariadne replied, yawning again as the adrenaline of having caught Peter wore off and she realized she hadn’t slept in over 30 hours. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore replied, smiling gently. “This has been an interesting start to the term to say the least.” Ariadne leaned down and picked up her Invisibility Cloak, folding it up in her arm, and the still-active Marauder’s Map. “Oh, you may drop this spell as well, I have it.” Ariadne smiled and let her spell fade, awkwardly fumbling her wand into her pocket as Dumbledore’s own took over.

“I’ll go as well,” Professor Lupin said, lighting up his wand and stopping in the doorway after Ariadne. “Good night, Headmaster.”

“Good night, Remus.” Lupin stepped over to the waiting girl, spitting at the floor beside Pettigrew as he passed. 

“Traitor,” he growled, his magic buzzing with fury as he followed Ariadne out of the room and down the corridor a bit. Ariadne jumped out of her skin as Lupin screamed in fury and launched himself at the wall, throwing his fist into it with a BANG. “Ow,” he groaned, doubling back and waving his hand, still panting in rage.

“Aa-a-a-a-a-aare-are you okay, sir?” Ariadne asked quietly, yawning again as her eyelids paradoxically threatened to close themselves despite the anxiety spike she’d been thrown into by Lupin’s outburst.

“He was like a brother to me!” Lupin yelled, shaking his head and breathing deeply. “God, I’m sorry. Two hours ago I thought he was dead, that Sirius had betrayed us. And now?!” Lupin leant on the wall, sliding down it. “I mourned him, Ariadne.  _ We held a funeral for him!  _ He was… hhhh… This was sudden, I’m sorry,” he sniffed. Ariadne nodded gently, sitting down beside him.

“It’s good though, Sirius Black will go free now,” she said. Lupin nodded glumly.

“Silver lining, I suppose. Oh, I’ll need to take that,” he sighed, reaching over to the Map. Ariadne passed it to him quietly. “Not exactly kosher, I’m afr-” Professor Lupin froze as his eyes met the still active Marauder’s Map.

“What is it?” Ariadne asked, before Professor Lupin leapt to his feet, striding down the corridor hurriedly. “Professor?!” she called, struggling to push her exhausted body to its feet and jog after him.

“SIRIUS!” Lupin yelled as he reached the stairs. Ariadne gasped as she caught up with him, for at the bottom of the stairs and looking absolutely terrified at being found, was the man who she had to presume was Sirius Black. His hair and beard were unkempt and scraggly, his coat in tatters and his face gaunt even to Ariadne’s ability to sense detail. His core was green and brown, almost in tatters just like his coat, in a way.

Interestingly, he was carrying Crookshanks in his arms. 

Lupin was smiling widely beside her, laughing breathily as he held his arms wide. Sirius blinked, confused, a hesitant smile building on his face as he began to climb the stairs. Letting the cat down, he veritably ran to Professor Lupin, throwing himself into his friend’s arms. How he’d even gotten into the castle, Ariadne wasn’t sure - but if he’d helped design the Marauder’s Map, perhaps he’d used a secret passage that the staff hadn’t known to seal.

“Sirius!” Lupin cried, holding Sirius tightly. “It’s good to see you. Looking rather ragged, aren’t you? Finally, the flesh reflects the madness within.” Sirius chuckled, smiling into his shoulder.

“Well you’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you, Remus?” Black replied, his voice gravelly as he grinned, before he and Lupin separated. “I’ve almost found him, Remus, he’s in the castle, I know it!”

“I know, I know. We er, we just found him ourselves,” Lupin assured him, nodding and pointing quickly to Ariadne. “We were just on our way to send word to the authorities that you were innocent and we had proof.”

“Let’s kill him!” Sirius snarled, hungrily holding Lupin’s arms.

“No!” Professor Lupin replied, blocking him from running past. “Dead, he’s useless, alive, your name is cleared. You’ll be a free man again, Sirius. Trust me, it’s being handled.” 

“That’s… Twelve years in Azkaban and I get here five minutes late,  _ Fuck _ . I hope old Dumbledore still knows what he’s doing,” Sirius sighed, looking at the ground for a bit, before he faced Remus again, his eyes wide. “Remus, where’s Harry?” he asked. Ariadne stepped back instinctively. “I’ve looked, but I can’t find him anywhere. Where’s my godson?!”

“Ah,” Lupin simply started with. “You don’t know. You weren’t very well informed in Azkaban, were you?” Sirius’ eyes went wide as his mouth hung open in horror.

“ _ What _ don’t I know?!” he exclaimed, despair filling his voice and his jaw shuddering in fear. “Remus,  _ what don’t I know?! _ Please tell me the boy’s safe!” Sirius pleaded, clearly misinterpreting Professor Lupin’s words. Lupin exhaled almost humorously, smiling.

“Sirius, if you’re looking for James and Lily’s child… your god _ daughter _ is standing right beside me.” Lupin reassured him, and dramatically shifted his glowing wand to light Ariadne’s face. Ariadne took a deep breath, inadvertently causing herself to yawn.

“Hwaaaa… Ariadne Granger, it’s nice to meet you Mister Black,” she said, offering a hand and smiling gently. “I’m… I’m transgender, so I understand if you didn’t recognize me. Oh, hello,” she added, as Crookshanks began purring around her feet.

“Transgender?” Sirius asked, frowning as he hesitantly took her hand.

“I’m actually a girl,” Ariadne said. “Even though… well, you were there when I was born. I used to be, er, H. Potter. It’s Ariadne now, Ariadne Granger.”

“Ariadne  _ Granger _ ? Oh thank god, they adopted you out!” Sirius groaned, relaxing. “Hagrid told me he was taking you to your god-awful relatives, I tried to convince him not to. I only met your aunt once, you know, but she was  _ horrific _ , nothing like your mother.”

“O-oh, no, they did. Child protective services took me away,” Ariadne said sadly, feeling another yawn coming on. “Hyaaaaaa… The Grangers adopted me when I was six.”

“Oh. Well that’s something, I suppose,” the man sniffed, shuffling on his feet a little. “Now I look at you, you do look a lot like Lily. You have your mother’s-” Sirius’ face went shocked, as he drew back slightly. “What happened to your eyes, Ariadne?”

“My relatives,” Ariadne replied. “I’m blind, but I can sense magic though. That’s actually how we knew about Pettigrew.”

“Yes, he looked like a person to her, not a rat. She didn’t know why until tonight, when she saw Peter on the map and went to go grab him,” Lupin explained. “Now, you two can catch up tomorrow, but Ariadne, you need to go to sleep. I’ll handle the letter and fill in Sirius, all right?” Ariadne nodded, leaning down to pick up Crookshanks.

“Oh, you know the cat?” Sirius asked. “Clever one, almost led me to Pettigrew once.”

“He’s my sister’s,” she replied, burying her face in his fur. “His name’s Crookshanks.” Sirius raised a hand and started gently petting the cat between the ears, earning Crookshanks’ face pressed into his palm.

“Thanks for your help, Crookshanks,” Sirius murmured, smiling. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then. Hmph, nice pajamas,” he added, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head at her slippers.

“Oh! Good night, Mister Black,” Ariadne said, chuckling as she turned to go upstairs. “See you tomorrow!” she called.

“Sirius,” Sirius said. “Call me Sirius.” Ariadne stopped, turning so she was at least facing him, a whimsical smile on her face.

“Good night, Sirius.” As Ariadne exhaustedly started her way back to the Gryffindor dormitory, behind her, Sirius leaned over to Lupin.

“Is… is that James’ cloak she’s carrying?” he whispered, pointing. Lupin snorted.

“You know, I think it might be. Didn’t see her wearing it.” Sirius barked in laughter.

“You know, Remus, that  _ is _ the point,” Sirius pointed out. “Dumbledore must have given it to her.”

“No need for me to confiscate it then, if Dumbledore gave it to her,” Lupin said, sighing. “It’s good to have you back, old friend,” he said, before clapping Sirius’ shoulder. “Come on, I’ve got an office now, you can stay in there and I’ll give you a rundown of the life and times of Ariadne Granger.” Ariadne smiled as the pair stepped down the stairs, Lupin pressing his wand to his throat and muttering into a purple glow. Bobbing Crookshanks up and down as she walked, Ariadne’s mind was whirring and finally comprehending exactly what had just happened - even if the proverbial machine was greased with molasses.

Sirius Black, a man she’d - until about an hour and a half ago relative time - believed to be a mass murderer and Death Eater, was not only innocent, but her godfather. Ariadne couldn’t imagine how Professor Lupin must have been feeling, without having had an hour extra - the emotional whiplash alone must have been incredible.

“Flibberti-flibber… Hmm. You know I know it, flibberty-thingy, I just can’t say it,” Ariadne mumbled as she tiredly stomped up to the Fat Lady portrait.

“Ha! All right then, in you come,” the Fat Lady laughed, the portrait swinging open. Ariadne poked her head out to the painting.

“Hey, um, is there a name you’d rather be called than Fat Lady? I feel like that’s…” she asked.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t worry about it. Fat Lady is the title I was given, and well, it’s not as if me being fat’s a bad thing. I’m the Fat Lady and there’s nothing wrong with that,” the Fat Lady replied matter-of-factly.

“Fair enough, I suppose I’d be called the Blind Lady in a painting.”

“Exactly. I  _ am _ , after all, a fat lady. I’m fat and I like it that way, don’t you worry. Anyway, you look exhausted, Blind Lady, so get in there.” Ariadne snorted and followed that instruction, eventually finding the only thing stopping her from slamming into her pillow like a sack of potatoes being that if she did, she’d wake the gently snoring Hermione from the sleep she needed just as badly.

Sleep came quickly, as the cogs of her mind finally jammed, and slumber took her.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man is it nice to have written this, I’ve had it planned since like, chapter 10. Was pretty funny to see some folks lamenting that I’d be sticking to canon, lmao  
> I’m pretty sure I *did* hint a while ago there’d be some major canon divergences starting around third year. And boy are they fun.


	99. Canis Major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world reacts to the news of Peter Pettigrew’s capture and Ariadne gets to know her godfather a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Sirius comes into the story properly! This’ll be interesting, eh?

Something touched Ariadne’s shoulder.

“Ariadne?” Hermione’s voice tentatively pressed. “Ariadne?” As her magic sense blurred into action, Ariadne blearily woke, no less exhausted, to the magical core of her sister leaning over her curiously. “Ariadne?” Ariadne grunted, waving her head before slowly getting up, her entire body aching.

“Hmmm?” Ariadne hummed, putting on her glasses. “What time is it?” she asked through a yawn.

“Seven thirty. I’ve never seen you sleep so deep, what time did you get back?” Hermione replied, as Ariadne realized how little time she had to get ready for class and struggled to push her tired brain into action mode.

“Um… about two, I think?” Ariadne mumbled. “Gimme a sec.” Groaning slightly as she sat up properly, Ariadne surreptitiously put her unenchanted watch back an hour.

“What did you do last night?” Hermione asked, sitting down on her bed. “You were gone for an hour and a half.”

“What’re you talking about?” Sally-Anne asked, hopping into a pair of socks. “Did you go out last night?”

“Er-” Ariadne spluttered for a moment, before sighing. Being tired oddly helped her stammer stop, her brain was too foggy to be anxious. “Ehh, it’ll become public knowledge soon, might as well. Last night I was er… finding Peter Pettigrew, who is alive, and helping capture him because he’s an unregistered Animagus with a rat form who framed Sirius Black and worked for Voldemort. Sirius Black is innocent of all charges, including the murders.”

The dormitory fell  _ completely _ silent. Ariadne smiled reflexively as she took in the faces of everyone in the dorm. Parvati had only just walked in from the bathroom to retrieve something, her eyes suddenly wider than Ariadne had ever seen them and Lavender had frozen in a state of utter perplexment. Hermione had stopped stimming entirely, her hands frozen mid knuckle-tap. Kellah was staring at her from her bed, only partially dressed after tearing her curtains open. Sally-Anne had completely fallen over, one sock only half-on, and was then staring at Ariadne from the floor with her mouth ajar.

“Anyway, I’m going to get dressed,” Ariadne said quickly. “Oh! And Sirius Black is my godfather, apparently.”

“What the  _ fuck _ is your life, Ariadne?!” Sally-Anne exclaimed as Ariadne started pulling her curtains shut. “Are you planning on having any normal years?!”

“I’d love one,” Ariadne replied ruefully, double checking her watch with a finger for when she’d next have to take her potions before depositing all four vials into a pocket in her bag. “ _ Pulverio Umbra _ ,” she mumbled, twisting her wand at herself. After Ariadne had hurriedly got dressed, Hermione was immediately by her.

“What  _ exactly _ happened last night? You went out and then came back and got your Time Turner and when I woke up you were back and now you’re talking about Sirius Black being innocent?” Hermione asked, hushed with an almost concerned face.

“I’ll tell you when we get down, Ron needs to know too,” Ariadne whispered, hurrying to the door before doubling back to grab the cloak she’d forgotten while Hermione mouthed thoughts to herself. At least she hadn’t forgotten her Time Turner or either of her watches as the unenchanted one ever so slightly dug into her upper forearm. Ariadne almost tumbled down the stairs as she hurried to the Common Room, hoping they wouldn’t miss Ron - she didn’t know if Ron would be going with them, given how he ironically wasn’t talking to Hermione over Scabbers.

“Seamus!” she called to the boy as she leant over the edge of the balcony, Hermione beside her. “Where’s Ron? I need to talk to him, er, now.”

“Right now?” Seamus called back from a sofa, spinning and leaning on its back.

“Ideally-y-ylyly-yly-lyly yes!” Ariadne replied.

“He’s taking a piss, he’ll be out soon,” Seamus told her as Ginny barreled out of the girls’ staircase.

“Hey-hey Ginny!” Ariadne exclaimed awkwardly, spinning. Ginny jumped, her magic spiking briefly before she smiled.

“Hey ‘Adne!” Ginny said. “Did you sleep well?” Ariadne smiled, snorting.

“Had an interesting night. Stick-a-a-a-stick-a-sti-stic-ckckc-stick around if you wanna hear, I need to tell Ron anyway,” she told Ginny, who tilted her head curiously.

“I just might,” Ginny said, as Clarabelle - another second year girl - followed her. “Hey Clara, I’ll see you at breakfast, okay?” she said, as Ron stepped out of the boys’ doorway, yawning.

“Ron!” Ariadne called immediately, making the boy jump. “Need to talk to you,” she said simply, beckoning him over.

“What is it? Come to apologize?” Ron asked glumly, unimpressed. Hermione immediately became more animated, waving her head in outrage and beginning to splutter before Ariadne spoke up again.

“No,  _ but _ . It  _ is _ related to Scabbers, because  _ neither of you _ were correct,” Ariadne said. “Ron!” she exclaimed as the boy began down the stairs without them. “I’d rather you  _ not _ find out from the bloody Prophet, Ronald.” Hermione gasped as Ron stopped, seeming almost genuinely frightened of the sudden insistence on Ariadne’s face.

“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “Rat form!” Hermione exclaimed. Ariadne nodded to her as comprehension burned onto Hermione’s expression and Ariadne led the pair to a sofa by the fire.

“So what’s this about Scabbers?” Ron asked.

“Okay, this is going to be a long story, so bear with me. Do you remember how yesterday, I asked you who Peter Pettigrew was?” Ariadne said, twisting in her seat to politely face him.

“Yeah, what does that have to do with Scabbers?”

“I’ll get to that in a sec. I didn’t ask because I’d forgotten the name. Or well, that-that-that-th-that wasn’t the only reason. Over Christmas, Fred and George gave me a map, a map of Hogwarts that also shows where everyone is.” Hermione frowned quizzically, squinting behind her as Ron couldn’t hide how cool he thought that was even from Ariadne’s limited sense. “And the night before last, I saw Peter Pettigrew’s name. In your dormitory, Ron, right beside you.” Ron’s amazement became concern as he drew back, frowning.

“But… but Peter Pettigrew’s dead,” he said. “Right?” Ariadne shook her head.

“Yesterday, I asked you who Peter Pettigrew was. And then less than two hours later, Scabbers had run off. Because he  _ heard me _ from inside your pocket. Because Scabbers  _ was _ Peter Pettigrew.”

“What?” Ron spluttered, his face going blank with confusion.

“Peter Pettigrew was, or rather  _ is _ an unregistered Animagus. Scabbers was missing a toe, yeah?” Ariadne told him. Ron nodded, frowning. “All they found of Pettigrew’s body twelve years ago was his finger, because he cut it off and faked his own death.”

“But Sirius Black killed him, didn’t he?” Ron asked, blinking.

“No, that’s the thing. Pettigrew framed him and ran off as a rat. Sirius is innocent. You see, I went out last night because I realized that Scabbers had always looked weird to me, and then I realized why. I used the Map to track him, and I almost caught him before Snape found me. Professor Lupin took-tookme-took me to his office, and I told him what I was doing,” Ariadne ranted, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But Professor Lupin, he-he-heeheheh-he was-he was-he was friends with Peter at school  _ and _ he helped make the Map! He knew Peter was an Animagus, so he knew I wasn’t lying. We went to Dumbledore, and then we went and grabbed him on the sixth floor. Because I could see him in the dark.” Ron was just staring at her, mouth hanging open as Ginny leaned forward.

“What happened then?” Ginny asked intensely, frowning and glancing to Ron and back.

“Lupin forced him out of his rat form, and then Pettigrew basically confessed. Apparently, he betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort, he murdered all those non-magical people, everything. Sirius was innocent, and he didn’t even get a trial!” Ariadne knew that if she could sense colour in that way, she’d have just seen Hermione’s face go white.

“ _ What?! _ ” Hermione hissed. “What do you mean he never got a trial?!”

“Not according to Lupin. And they were all friends. My parents, Professor Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew. But Lupin thought Sirius had been the traitor until last night... it was hard on him. And Sirius was in Azkaban for twelve years, for-for-for crimes he didn’t even commit. He wasn’t looking for me when he broke in last term, he was looking for Pettigrew.”

“To kill him?” Ron asked.

“We convinced him not to. If Pettigrew dies-” Ariadne started to explain, yawning.

“What do you mean  _ you convinced him not to?! _ ” Hermione cried, her right hand veritably vibrating as she immediately got anxious. “ _ You mean he was here, in the castle?! _ ” Ariadne nodded.

“He turned up afterward. Crookshanks was actually letting him in, because he could tell what was happening. That was why he was always chasing Scabbers even though he  _ knows  _ not to chase pets, because he knew he wasn’t a rat.” Ariadne smiled. “Sirius actually seems pretty nice, he’s uh... he’s my godfather, apparently. He’s staying in Professor Lupin’s office, Pettigrew’s in the Dark Tower with a dozen Dementors.”

“Can you show us?” Ginny asked, curiously. Ariadne tilted his head at her.

“We have class…?”

“Nono, on the map,” Ginny clarified, miming a map in her hands.

“Oh,” Ariadne spluttered. “Uh- Puff-f-f-fpfo-rp-proffess-Professor Lupin took it. Fred and George stole it from Filch and he recognized it immediately. Because he helped make it.”

“Those weasels! They never told me about any map! Why’d they give it to you anyway?” Ron exclaimed indignantly.

“There are secret passageways on it, they said I could use it to get into Hogsmeade without having to worry about the Dementors,” Ariadne replied. “No, I didn’t memorize them,” she said as Ginny smiled mischievously.

“Oh yeah! How’d that spell go yesterday? Sorry I didn’t come,” Ron asked eagerly, leaning forward. Glad to have her friend back after revealing his pet rat to have been a war criminal fugitive, Ariadne’s spirits were lifted even as her entire body ached in exhaustion after only getting at most five hours of sleep in the last thirty seven. The Weasleys marvelled at the story of how she’d produced a Patronus almost immediately, and awwwed at the memory she’d used. Well, Ginny awwwed, Ron was a little more awkward.

The rumours had started  _ immediately _ . Ariadne wasn’t surprised, she didn’t think Lavender or Sally-Anne would have been capable of keeping it a secret even if she’d asked them to, which in fairness she hadn’t. For the half-hour between getting to breakfast and hurrying to Defence Against the Dark Arts with Ron, Ariadne had been inundated with attention she tried to bat off, to a scale not unlike when she’d first been revealed as the Girl Who Lived.

Ariadne groaned audibly as Seamus spoke up as soon as Professor Lupin stepped into the Defence classroom from his office.

“Professor! Professor! Is it true? That Peter Pettigrew’s alive?” Seamus called, prompting the entire class save Ron and Hermione - the latter of whom immediately clapped her hands to her ears and started shaking one of her legs to compensate for the immediately overwhelming environment - to start calling questions of much the same ilk in a gigantic cacophony. Ariadne wordlessly threw her hands up as Lupin glared at her, before spluttering as he frowned at her at which she pointed to Lavender and Sally-Anne, who scowled at her in unison. Professor Lupin waved his arms, trying to get the class to quiet down.

“I expect to have much the same experience in my other classes, so, for the sake of my health I hope you take this to heart,” Lupin growled from his staircase. “I am not at liberty to discuss the events of last night. We are still processing it, and I will  _ not _ be answering any questions about what happened. Clear?” Murmurs flitted about the classroom. “Good. Now, Nogtails.”

Professor Lupin seemed distracted as he lectured the class about the Dark blight-pigs that would occasionally wreak havoc on farms and that a number of magical-born students mentioned their older siblings having hunted before, but not in a bad way. He seemed like a great weight had been torn from his shoulders. There were dark undertones to his mood, but he’d effectively just had one of his oldest friends over for a sleepover, and cheerfulness tended to win out.

As Ariadne began packing her books away, Ron staring at the fact that there were double the textbooks in hers than his, Professor Lupin stepped over to her quietly.

“Ariadne, would you like to take lunch here? Sirius was hoping to talk to you before we have to go to the Ministry tomorrow for Pettigrew’s trial,” Lupin asked gently. “If that’s all right, that is?”

“Uh… sure, yeah,” Ariadne replied. “Can they come?” she asked, tilting her head to her friends.

“Err.. why not. I explained a few things to him, he does want to meet Hermione. Mister Weasley though…” Lupin replied.

“It’s all right,” Ron said, hoisting his backpack on. “She said Black was her godfather, so if it’s a family thing, I’ll stay out of it, yeah? It’d be awkward,” he added, awkwardly. Lupin nodded approvingly. “See you at Charms you two!” he waved, starting toward the door.

“Sense you, Ron!” Ariadne called as Hermione simply waved. She’d gone a little non-verbal after the sudden noise at the start of class, and seemed to still be recovering. Leading them up the stairs, Lupin held the door open to let Ariadne and Hermione past.

Standing up as they came in was a far cry from the haggard, messy man Ariadne had sensed in the wee hours of the morning. Instead of his ragged coat and what she suspected were his Azkaban fatigues, Sirius wore a spare suit of Lupin’s, sans the tie and unbuttoned at the top, and it looked a little big on him. He’d even been given the opportunity to shave, and his beard was now a short goatee with a well-trimmed moustache. His hair was tidier, if still messy, and he didn’t look quite as gaunt. He smiled as Ariadne stepped in, even wider as he took in Hermione.

“Sirius, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is Sirius.” As Lupin introduced her, Ariadne noticed Hermione looked concerned as she nodded at Sirius.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hermione. Remus here tells me you’re a wonderful sister to Ariadne. I get it if you’re a little uneasy seeing me, you’ve been seeing my face on wanted posters after all!” Sirius chuckled. “Please, come sit. This is the first good meal I’ve had in thirteen years and it is  _ gooood _ .” Hermione nodded hesitantly as she sat down, bobbing a little as she did before grimacing for a few seconds.

“And… and you, Mister Black,” she said, pushing through the dregs of her non-verbal spout and surveying the plates of food Lupin had set out as the Professor closed the door and took his own seat. Ariadne sat opposite Sirius.

“So. We never got an opportunity to talk, Ariadne,” Sirius said, before eating another mouthful and looking down. “Got sauce on your suit, Remus.” Professor Lupin tutted at him. “Doesn’t really fit me, does it?” he added, laughing, to the girls.

“You look all right, I think,” Ariadne said.

“Ah, that spell Remus told me about, yes?” Sirius asked, after frowning briefly. “Had an opportunity to clean up since this morning, make myself presentable. He says you made her those glasses, Hermione, is that true?” Hermione nodded bashfully. “Some excellent work, you two really are the brightest witches of your age. So, Remus has told me some of it, but he doesn’t know everything and I want to hear it from you. What happened after Voldemort was killed?”

“Um..” Ariadne thought for a moment as she chewed on a bread roll. “Dumbledore took me to my relatives, my aunt and uncle. He thought I’d be protected by some sort of ward, but that wasn’t quite how the wards worked.” Sirius frowned, as did Lupin. “Um, he-he thought they were based on… blood family? So he thought I’d be protected living with blood family, but the wards actually work based on familial love. They’re pretty strong now,” Ariadne explained, smiling at Hermione who grinned back at her. Sirius beamed at them.

“But they weren’t strong before?” he asked, his face becoming concerned suddenly. Ariadne shook her head. “Remus said they mistreated you, but he wouldn’t say anything more.” Ariadne bit her lip.

“No. They uh… mistreated is a bit of a, um, polite way of saying it,” Ariadne said quietly. “This wasn’t natural,” she told him, pointing to her eyes. “They beat me, they starved me and kept me in a cupboard.” Sirius’ face fell even more, his shoulders slumping and his mouth hanging open in shock. “Child protective services came and took me after Hermione met me at a park and Mum and Dad noticed all the bruises. I was six, and then they adopted me. I’m a lot better now,” she assured him, yawning slightly.

“You look it,” Sirius said. “They’ve clearly been taking good care of you, I’d love to meet them and say thanks for doing the job I failed to do.” Ariadne nodded, smiling. “And all this, you being transgender? Remus told me about it.” Sirius pointed to her with his fork.

“I’m a girl in here,” Ariadne told him, tapping her head. “It’s a bit more complicated, but that’s generally the easiest way to explain it. Madam Pomfrey’s helping me with my body.” Sirius grunted, nodding.

“I must say, you look lovely. Loving the eyeshadow and how you’ve got your hair. Can see why James never grew his out though!” Sirius said, barking with laughter. “And Ariadne’s a great name, matching Hermione deliberately I’m guessing? Greek princesses.” The pair nodded, surprised Sirius knew the backstory. “Before you were born, Lily was adamant that if you were a girl - or, well, if you were  _ born _ a girl - that she’d keep the flower name tradition the Evans had going on. Holly, I believe she said.”

“What were they like?” Ariadne asked, after contemplating that for a moment. Sirius leant back, smiling, before diving into a whimsical story of their own time at Hogwarts.

\--

Sitting down for dinner and noting the absence of Professor Lupin at the table, Ariadne found herself surrounded by gasps as some students received the rather late edition of the Daily Prophet. Quickly grabbing a copy, she pulled out her wand.

The article itself spread the entire front page, with the inflammatory title emblazoned across the top in gigantic font.

> _ PETER PETTIGREW FOUND ALIVE - SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT ALL ALONG? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good times beginning with Sirius!


	100. The Prisoner of Azkaban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne listens intently as the trial of Peter Pettigrew takes place throughout her day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 chapters, and 32,000 hits! Let’s see how many chapters this ends up, eh?  
> Been planning later stuff in detail this morning, my planning document’s 20,000 words and 30 pages long now and I am VERY much enjoying how Deathly Hallows is gonna go. And y’all thought I was going to adhere to canon.

That night, Peter Pettigrew was all anyone talked about. Ariadne was glad that personal details hadn’t been published, the article had only outlined vaguely what had happened and that Peter Pettigrew had been found - it was a surprisingly long article for one with so little detail.

It was the strangest feeling, the next morning, not to sense Professor Lupin or Dumbledore at the breakfast table and to know that despite world-shaking events in which she was intertwined taking place, she still had classes. This wasn’t the Philosopher’s Stone or the Chamber of Secrets, things she needed to deal with herself and immediately. This was a trial taking place hundreds of miles away, and it wasn’t her problem anymore that Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus. That was for the Wizengamot, but she couldn’t help but feel her insides twisting in a knot.

And of course, the article had just  _ had _ to mention offhandedly that she had been involved, her magic sense having tipped everyone off. As such, Ariadne had found herself inundated with press letters that were allowed through the postbox filter - some in magical ink, others inconveniently not. Even  _ Witch Weekly _ were curious, and they’d never mailed her before. Three letters each from different Prophet reporters, including Rita, were among the pile, as well as questions from the Quibbler, and both WWNs - the Wizarding World News and Wizarding Wireless Network. The Network had asked if she’d be able to speak on the radio through the Hogsmeade satellite station. Realizing that they’d expect an immediate reply given their proximity, Ariadne hurriedly penned a short note declining their request and politely informing them that the Dementors at the gates prevented her egress from the grounds, and had the same owl take it before resuming her breakfast.

The Dementors. Would they be withdrawn, now that the culprits had been caught? They were still around, as far as Ariadne knew. She smiled to herself at the idea of being able to walk down to the village with her friends unimpeded as Hermes swooped in and landed beside her, holding a letter written in magical ink.

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ We hope getting this to you ASAP doesn’t run Hermes ragged, but this seems important. What happened last night? The papers are all saying you found the man Sirius Black murdered, Peter Pettigrew, and that he might never have actually murdered anyone, it’s all they’re talking about. _
> 
> _ Please don’t tell us this is another Chamber of Secrets moment. You really need to be keeping yourself safe, not hounding down possible mass murderers through the school with Professor Dumbledore and that Lupin one. It’s bad enough that there’s a wizarding cult who want to kill you without you putting yourself in harm’s way like that. That place is a bad influence on you. _
> 
> _ Will you be at the trial tomorrow, since you were involved? The Ministry’s in London, isn’t it? If so, perhaps we could meet you on the way and make sure you have something nice to wear. Can’t be having you appear before the magic courts in jeans and a t-shirt, can we? Maybe your Hogwarts uniform will do. _
> 
> _ With Love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad _

Biting her lip, Ariadne set the letter down and wondered if she should even reply - if she  _ was _ summoned to the Wizengamot hearing and they met up with them, the letter would arrive far too late. She decided to fold it up and put it in her bag for later, to reply to when she was sure she wasn’t about to be nudged and told to come to the staff room to use the Floo.

“That’s a lot of mail, ‘Adne,” Ginny said scooching a little closer on the other side of the table. Ariadne nodded.

“They’re all about Pettigrew,” Ariadne replied. “Apparently when you-when-when-when you when you when you when you when-when-whenyou you-when you expose a war criminal, p-people want to know.” Ginny laughed, choking on some juice.

“Bleh - yeah, that sounds about right,” Ginny said. “Does this happen a lot?” she asked, pointing to the pile.

“Sometimes,” Ariadne replied. “I have a mail box in Hogsmeade though, so there’s not a hundred piece-pieces of er, fan mail, on the table every morning.”

“You get fan mail?” Ginny asked. “Oh yeah, you were getting a lot of mail last year when everyone found out who you were, weren’t you?” Ariadne snorted.

“Not that I wanted it. I don’t read many of them, and there’s less now, after I came out, I think a lot of the adults don’t get it.” Ariadne thought for a second, thinking. “There was one near the end of last term, it didn’t have a name on it. But they were saying…” Ariadne trailed off, not sure how to word what the small letter had said.

“What did they say? Were they being a transphobe?” Ginny asked, concerned and frowning as she leant over.

“No, no… they were saying that they’d realized they were like me,” Ariadne replied, quietly. “That I’d… that I’d helped them.” Ginny’s face slowly went from concern to a wide smile as Ariadne spoke, and Ariadne blushed slightly as an unintended smirk filled her own.

“That’s amazing Ariadne!” Ginny exclaimed. “I wonder if-”

“Listen listen listen!” Seamus called from a few seats down the row, with an enchanted box he’d slammed down on the table, as Ariadne jumped. The box was playing noise, which Ariadne realized with a start was a radio. As everyone leaned in, Ariadne realized what it was playing.

“ _ Yes, Angelo, I can in fact report that both Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were brought into Ministry custody this morning, escorted by a dozen Aurors and Dementors, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where they were held after both being found there on Monday evening. Now, the mere fact that Peter Pettigrew is alive is cause to question the initial imprisonment of Sirius Black, who seems, I might add, rather compliant for an alleged mass murderer, while Pettigrew is the resistant one _ ,” the radio buzzed as Seamus and Dean hushed people to hear. 

“ _ The trial of Peter Pettigrew has begun inside the chamber, unfortunately we aren’t allowed in to record, but I can tell you what we know. The Wizengamot has confirmed that Peter Pettigrew is in fact an unregistered Animagus, hiding in the form of a rat and having taken refuge with an unnamed Wizarding family. I have also received word of confirmation that he was in fact discovered by Ariadne Granger, who can famously see magic and as such could see that Pettigrew was not an ordinary rat - we reached out to Miss Granger earlier this morning, but I’m told she is unavailable to comment. _ ” Ariadne blushed as a lot of the gathered students turned to her. __

“ _ That’s all we know so far, I’ll keep you posted, Angelo _ ,” the reporter finished.

“ _ And that was Wendell Turpins reporting from outside the Wizengamot chamber _ ,” another individual, probably Angelo, said. “ _ Reporting on the ongoing story that is this development. Sirius Black’s murder of Peter Pettigrew was once an established fact of history, now shattered by Ariadne Granger. The young transgender woman has had a chaotic couple of years, from the Chamber of Secrets to the prisoner of Azkaban, not to mention her coming out, and it seems the wizarding world has far from heard the last of the Girl Who Lived. _ ” Ariadne fled as she sensed everyone around her staring and the sensation of being crushed between two stone slabs took over her mind and she just  _ had _ to be away from there, her cheeks red and her ears thumping. It was strange, being able to leave so quickly thanks to her spell glasses, as she strode hurriedly away from the Great Hall. Breathing heavily, she groggily sat down on a bench, a headache starting to take hold.

As she tried to relax, Hermione, Ron and Ginny walked over hesitantly, and Hermione leaned questioningly as she knew Ariadne could sense her from any angle. Ariadne turned to face them as she noticed Ginny holding a plate.

“You okay, ‘Adne?” Ginny asked, as she sat down and offered Ariadne her plate. “You kinda went red and ran off.” Ariadne nodded glumly.

“I’m all right, I just… I hate being famous,” she mumbled. “I just want to do my classes, but everyone… ugh.” She was definitely playing down how the sudden resurgence of attention was making her feel, but she didn’t want to make Ginny worry. She’d gotten used to the quieter time that the last term had been, and suddenly she was in the centre of a nationwide news story. “Everyone wants to be watching me.”

“Dysphoria?” Ginny asked, concernedly. Ariadne tilted her head.

“A little, I guess,” she replied, crossing her legs self-consciously. “More just.. everything, I guess. Got used to the quiet.” Hermione sat down and took her shoulders.

“You’ll be okay, ‘Adne,” Hermione said quietly, rubbing her back. “We’re here for you, and we can try keep the paparazzi off you.” Ariadne sniffed humorously, before letting her peers lead her to Potions - oddly, even Snape had the broadcast playing quietly over by his desk, and seemed distracted as he lectured the class on uncommon poisons and the antidotes he would be teaching them - he didn’t even pick on Neville, which Ariadne was sure Neville was glad of. It did nothing to distract Ariadne from the events of the week, however, as she found herself the new target of Snape’s derisions as she fumbled with the ingredients of the potions. At least with the glasses she could easily measure any and all of the ingredients in question, but her hands shaking and her mind full of fog made that hard, glasses or not. In the end, her antidote was passable, but Snape told her he would under no circumstances trust it with even the life of Neville’s toad. Potions had never been her strong suit, but having been doing better lately with her spell and now her glasses, it was a bit demoralizing to be told she’d achieved no more than a bare pass. Hermione had done much better despite the distracting frequencies of the radio, while Snape struggled to find anything wrong with it.

Over the class, more facts came to bear on the case - the Network confirmed that not only was Peter Pettigrew an unregistered Animagus, but  _ so was Sirius _ , and so too had her blood father been. “ _ In his childhood, Professor Remus Lupin, now Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts and witness in the case, assisted the three, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black and the late James Potter in an endeavour that they should become Animagi - Pettigrew, as we know, took the form of a common garden rat, while Black took the form of a large black dog, and Potter the form of a stag. _ ” They did also note that Sirius did not remember how he escaped Azkaban, due to the horrifying mental effects of spending so long there - Sirius had stated while under Veritaserum, a powerful truth-potion, that he remembered very little of his time in Azkaban and Ariadne had gone faint when she heard that he’d compared it to her own difficulties remembering her days with the Dursleys. Clearly, her godfather had read up on her publicity, but luckily he hadn’t mentioned his status as her godfather. She didn’t want  _ that _ added to the pile of things people asked her about, it was bad enough that Lavender and Sally-Anne had let it slip to a few friends and that the rumour had spread at Hogwarts.

She was glad that Professor Vector tolerated no distractions in her classroom, and that she did not have to re-hear the report as she travelled back several hours to attend Arithmancy. Thanks to the work and lack of a radio in the classroom, Ariadne found herself at least less foggy as she worked, continually wondering what Vector’s policy on calculators would be as she manually figured out the trajectories of a quadratic equation, table covered in her work that glowed in bright blue.

Ariadne, however, was not sure whether she liked or disliked that in both Care of Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies, neither had the radio on. Care of Magical Creatures by definition took place outside in the muddy slush of midwinter snow as Hagrid taught them about Crups as a bit of a softer lesson to start the term off. Hermione disliked the Crups, despite everyone else finding them adorable, as the magic, dual-tailed puppies were entirely too unpredictable and set Hermione’s magical core into a spiral of anxiety as they were set upon the task of excitably catching barn mice. Hermione infinitely preferred Crookshanks and cats, who in general made more sense to her. Despite having nearly won in the mouse-catching competition, Ariadne had to admit she hadn’t enjoyed the lesson as much as she’d hoped, as not only did she share Hermione’s anxiety to a lesser degree, they only reminded her of Sirius being an Animagus and the man she’d chased into the Astronomy tower on Monday night, and she dwelt on those thoughts as Professor Burbage outlined the brief for their essay on Muggle televisual communications and what their options were for the term. She almost wished she’d spent enough time at dinner to catch any of another broadcast thanks to Seamus, but then, she supposed, she’d have only caught part of it and be just as pensive. Pulling herself together, Ariadne chose to write an essay on the genre of science fiction in television, using  _ Doctor Who _ as a case study. To make life easier for Ariadne, Professor Burbage told her she’d make sketches of the Dalek, TARDIS and Sontaran designs, among others, in magical ink for her to use, as ‘watching’ the show would not impart that information for her.

Eventually, however, the bell to dinner blared and Ariadne once again had to reassure her grumbling stomach that once the time passed, she’d be able to take her past self’s place at the table and eat her fill. As she finally did, falling upon her dinner with a gusto that impressed even Ron, Seamus finally slammed down onto the table a radio.

“You’re eating a lot!” Ron exclaimed.

“I’m stressed,” Ariadne replied, dryly. It wasn’t  _ entirely _ a lie, to be fair. Swallowing a mouthful of bacon far earlier than was wise, Ariadne leant over to hear the report.

“ _ Thanks Angelo, and yes, I am privileged to report that the trial is over! Many thought it would take much longer, but apparently they’ve just wrapped up. I have here a copy of the conclusions and Angelo, you are going to want to hear them. Listen to this: The Wizengamot finds Peter Pettigrew guilty on twelve charges of first degree murder, treason to both Britain and the wizarding people, charges of terrorism, infiltrating a wizarding family - whose identities have been redacted - for the years since his disappearance, as well as deigning to frame Sirius Black for those first two charges through a false flag operation, and finally being an unregistered Animagus. Now, that last one only holds a small penalty fine, but those twelve charges of murder have already earnt him several life sentences in Azkaban, the treason, framing and infiltrations only adding to that tally. Many here doubt Pettigrew will ever see the outside of Azkaban Prison again _ ,” the familiar voice of Wendell Turpins buzzed out of the speaker as the entire table began gasping, the entire hall listening to various radios in rapt attention. Ariadne held her breath as Angelo replied.

“ _ And what about Sirius Black? _ ”

“ _ Sirius Black indeed! Now, as we all know, a number of those things Peter Pettigrew has just now been found guilty of are things Black was once charged with - Sirius Black’s life sentence in Azkaban has been annulled, as he has now been found not guilty of all charges save two. The first, breaking into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September of last year, 2003, and the second being an unregistered Animagus. Now, as I said, that last one only holds a fine, which the heir of the Black family fortune can easily afford, however he has been sentenced to six months in prison, at a facility he is glad to know will not be Azkaban, for that first one. With his sentence starting on Friday, February the sixth, the falsely accused Sirius Black is slated to become a free man on Friday the sixth of August this year. _ ”

Ariadne almost cheered as she beamed at the news. Even if Sirius wasn’t technically free yet, he was at least free of the Dementors of Azkaban. As Professor Dumbledore and Professor Lupin returned to the dinner table - to true, albeit quickly awkward, cheers from Ariadne, Hermione, Ron and Ginny - it was announced that the Dementors would be removed from the grounds that very evening, and Ariadne looked forward to her first unpeculiar Hogsmeade weekend.

\--

> _ Mum and Dad _
> 
> _ (04/02/04) _
> 
> _ Sorry I didn’t send this earlier in the day - I didn’t know if I’d be called to the trial, but that didn’t happen. _
> 
> _ On Monday evening, I used a magic map the Weasley twins gave me to find that ‘Scabbers,’ Ron’s rat, was in fact Peter Pettigrew, and took the evidence to Professor Lupin. I don’t know how much you heard on the radio, but because Professor Lupin knew about him being an Animagus, he knew I couldn’t be lying and took me to Professor Dumbledore. From there, Dumbledore asked me to help find him, because it was late and dark - my magic sense isn’t affected by the dark, so I was the only one who could easily find him. I wasn’t in any danger, I promise, this year’s been good on the cult front. _
> 
> _ Sirius seems like a nice man, from the conversation I had with him yesterday, before they had to go to the trial. He was close friends with James and Lily Potter, and was even named my godfather - he was there when I was born! I don’t know how that works with adoption though. He did also want to thank you, “for doing the job he failed to do.” Maybe when he’s out of prison (he did break into Hogwarts last term, so he’s been given six months in prison) in August he could come visit us? I promise he’s nice. _
> 
> _ Speaking of August, Ron just mentioned there’s a Quidditch match happening for the Quidditch World Cup Final - England hasn’t hosted in thirty years, according to him. Maybe we should all go to that? I’d love to go see a proper Quidditch game. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ariadne _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Sirius is on the final straight to the checkered flag of freedom! This’ll be fun.


	101. Correspondence, Clairvoyance, Aches and Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne goes about her school life, with her godfather Sirius Black as a sort of pen pal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a TW, since this chapter gets some gender *euphoria* rather than dysphoria. ;)

Ariadne wasn’t sure if she was annoyed or not.

On one hand, she had been instrumental in the capture of the now convicted war criminal Peter Pettigrew and some gratitude from the Ministry of Magic would have been nice. On the other, she had indeed achieved that through a bootstrap paradox, and the warning she’d received in the post on Friday morning was entirely warranted.

At least it wasn’t a Howler.

In essence, she was on her first warning. She got one more before the Time Turner was confiscated from her, and as such Ariadne was to be on her best temporal behaviour as she carefully planned her movements to avoid herself. There could be no more than 2 Ariadnes at any given moment, so her extra Hospital Wing naps would need to be relegated to days when not all her classes overlapped and she had in essence a free period if she went to the past.

Ariadne frowned, rechecking her notes over. She’d taken the evening to sequester herself off in a corner of the Common Room, with three spent notebooks all full of her temporal check-ins and had meticulously tallied her hour-back logs in detail, which were slowly scrawling along a large scroll of parchment. Eventually, she’d had to divide them into blocks of 24, and then blocks of 168.

It was, at that moment, Friday the 6th of February. At least for everyone else, it had occurred to her that for herself and Hermione, that date wasn’t quite the same.

“Hermione, Hermione,” she whispered, ushering her sister over. “Look at this. You know how I made that record for Madam Pomfrey?” she asked as Hermione slid onto the sofa beside her. “I’ve made a tally of them, and counted how many weeks and days extra there are.”

“Oh- that’s… that’s actually a good idea, how much time have we spent in the past?” Hermione asked, leaning over Ariadne’s shoulder.

“Five months, one week, one day and four hours,” Ariadne replied, tapping her final count with her finger. “If it’s the sixth of February  _ now _ , for us it’s…” Ariadne rechecked her notes before she ran a finger along her watch. “Well, for me anyway, I went back a bit more last term. For me it’s… nearly midnight on the seventeenth of July.”

“I should have kept my own record, it would have been interesting to see the difference,” Hermione muttered. “Wait! That means it’s your birthday soon! You’re almost fourteen.”

“Yeah…” Ariadne murmured. “That’s really weird, it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long,” she said, frowning as she folded up the parchment and put it in her bag where no-one would see it. “I wonder what my actual birthday will end up being by the time we’re done with these.”

The next morning arose pleasantly, with at least a gentle pattering of snow rather than rain promising a fine day for Ariadne to visit the village with her friends. A sense of warm cheer filled the castle for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, as it seemed Ariadne was not the only one glad to know the Dementors had been removed.

“God they were creepy!” Sally-Anne exclaimed as she ate breakfast. “Thanks for getting rid of them, Ariadne, they  _ sucked _ .”

“Wasn’t me,” Ariadne protested through a mouthful of toast, as Hermione sucked a blob of jam off her finger. “Professor Lupin and Professor Dumbledore did the hard bit, I just found Pettigrew is all. But… but yeah, they sucked,” she added.

“ _ Just _ found Peter Pettigrew, she says,” Ron scoffed. “Like you didn’t find a man everyone thought was dead, while he was transformed into my rat no less! Oop, you’ve got jam in your hair, Hermione,” he exclaimed as owls began flitting into the Hall with letters and Hermione groaned and took out her wand. Ariadne jumped as perhaps the tiniest owl she’d ever seen landed directly in front of her, over her plate, holding an envelope devoid of magical ink in its miniscule beak, which dwarfed it. “Who d’you think that’s from?” Ron asked as Ariadne took it.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” Ariadne muttered, pulling out her wand, to reveal it was, as expected, addressed to her. Frowning, she opened the simple envelope, to reveal the letter.

> _ To Ariadne Granger _
> 
> _ I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk after the trial - unfortunately, we weren’t allowed to just go back to Hogwarts. I’ve just settled in here, this place is a luxury hotel compared to Azkaban. Food’s not as good as Hogwarts, but it’s still a damn sight better than I’m used to. It’s a bit isolated, but wizarding prisons kind of have to be. No Dementors, which is nice. The warden’s letting me send and get mail too. He does read it beforehand and check it, though, so don’t be too personal! _
> 
> _ Apologies for how crap my handwriting is - haven’t held a quill in thirteen years. _
> 
> _ How’re your classes going? New term and all, must be interesting with all this happening. I suppose they’ll be taking away the Dementors there, so go get some sun if the weather’s good. Or make a snowman for me, I’ll take either. _
> 
> _ Say ‘hi’ to Hermione (did I spell that right?) for me, and that Ronald friend of yours. The owl doesn’t belong to the prison, I paid for him - thought I’d take care of giving Ronald a new pet to replace “Scabbers”, and I’m sure an owl would be more useful than a lazy-arse rat. He doesn’t have a name yet, so whatever you call him will stick (choose something funny, PLEASE). _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Sirius Black _
> 
> _ P.S: Say hello to Neville Longbottom for me, would you? I knew his mother and father before what happened to them, but I never got many chances to meet the boy when he was little. _

“It’s from Sirius. Oh, he says he’s for you, to replace Scabbers,” Ariadne replied, pointing to the owl, after Ron had spent almost two minutes - going off the fact she’d had to recast the charm and it was beginning to fade - staring at her expectantly.

“Oh, that’s, er… that’s nice of him,” Ron spluttered, reaching an arm out to the owl. “What’s its name?” he asked as the owl started bounding up his arm. “Errrrr…”

“He doesn’t have a name yet. You can give him one and it’ll stick, Sirius says,” Ariadne told him, a small smile growing on her face. “Oh, Nevil-”

“Pigwidgeon!” Ginny exclaimed, leaning across the table with the biggest grin Ariadne had ever seen on her face, causing the miniscule owl to snap its attention to her from Ron’s shoulder as Ron scowled and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

“No! No, he’s not being called Pigwidgeon!” Ron cried, as Pigwidgeon’s head swivelled one hundred and eighty degrees to stare at him when his name was called and Ariadne devolved into a pile of giggles. “No! Your name is... Your name… uhhhh…” Pigwidgeon turned away from him, before jumping about on the table in front of Ron. “I’ll think of one, but it’s  _ not _ Pigwidgeon!” Pigwidgeon snapped to attention. “BAH! Ginny, you-!” Ron threw a bread roll at Ginny, who ducked, cackling. Ron sighed. “Hey Crookshanks, is he really an owl? Good,” Ron said, looking down to the cat that had jumped up beside him. “Don’t eat him, I know he looks like a fluffy chicken nugget.” Ariadne snorted as she passed on Sirius’ wellwishes and began penning a response as Pigwidgeon made an obnoxious fool of himself.

The Longbottoms, it seemed, had not only known Sirius, but Professor Lupin and the Potters as well, as Neville recounted. Neville even called Professor Lupin ‘Remus,’ and Ariadne realized he always had, but wouldn’t say why he knew him so well.

> _ To Sirius Black _
> 
> _ (06/02/04) _
> 
> _ Hey Sirius. You’ll be glad to know, I didn’t even have to get in there and name the owl. Ron’s sister, Ginny, got in first and called him Pigwidgeon. Ron is furious, and Ginny is currently hiding under the table from his assault of bread rolls. _
> 
> _ My classes are going well! Well, except for Divination, but that’s because it largely relies on SEEING. Tea leaves I could at least use my spell on to sense them, but I can’t do that to crystal balls. Professor Lupin is very good at his job, we’ve been learning about Nogtails. _
> 
> _ Did he tell you he taught me the Patronus Charm? I got it on my first try, we’re going to keep practicing this week once he’s feeling better (he’s feeling unwell again), he says I might be able to make mine corporeal instead of a wave. Looking forward to that. _
> 
> _ Hagrid’s been teaching Care of Magical Creatures, which has been fun - he really takes the word ‘Care’ seriously! I don’t know if I’ll ever need to know how to clean a Hippogriff’s talons, but I do now. He’s got one on the grounds, called Buckbeak. He let me ride him on our first lesson! _
> 
> _ Lots of work though, I’ve been very busy this year. I’m also on the Quidditch team, as the Seeker - yes, I know, me being blind seems like it’d stop me, but the Snitch is magic so I can actually sense it better than most. We’ve got a game against Ravenclaw in a few weeks, but my broom got destroyed last term because of the Dementors. Probably going to lose. _
> 
> _ Neville, Ron and Hermione all say hello. _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Ariadne Granger _
> 
> _ P.S: Ron just gave up and decided to call Pigwidgeon “Pig” as a compromise. We’ll see what Pigwidgeon thinks. _
> 
> _ P.P.S: Mum and Dad haven’t said if we can go yet, but I was wondering if you’d like to come see the Quidditch World Cup final in August with us, if they say yes? It’ll be a week or two after your release. _

\--

Come Monday, Ariadne felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders as she had taken a sliver of the weekend to relax, having gone for walks where she previously couldn’t alongside Hermione and the Weasleys. Well, metaphorically, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Physically, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck, which Quidditch practice on Sunday did nought to help. Her reduced ability to sleep on time due to adhering to the ‘two Ariadnes at a time’ rule meant she was exhausted, and Ariadne dragged herself out of bed with a groan as her back clicked. Stretching, Ariadne began padding toward the bathroom after taking her potions, blinking blearily as Hermione sat up suddenly.

“Ariadne…” Hermione called, staring at her, her mouth open a little. “Stay still?” Hermione pushed herself up off her bed, and hurriedly stepped around near Sally-Anne’s bed, continuing to watch her as Ariadne froze mid-stretch, frowning.

“What?” Ariadne asked as Hermione almost seemed to be  _ examining _ her. “What is it?” she demanded as Hermione’s confused expression became a small smile, and her sister stepped back to Sally-Anne.

“Sally-Anne?” Hermione said, getting her attention. “Is it just me or…” Hermione asked, smiling more as she looked between Sally-Anne and her sister. Sally-Anne gasped.

“What on Earth are you two talking about?!” Ariadne exclaimed. Hermione laughed as she slowly stepped back over to her bed, digging into her trunk. As Ariadne shook her head in defeat continuing toward the door, Hermione spoke up again.

“Uh uh, you aren’t going anywhere ‘Adne. It’s my turn,” Hermione called, pointing with one hand as her other was elbow deep in her old clothes. “Aha!” She stood up, hiding something behind her back.

“Your turn to  _ what _ ?!” Ariadne exclaimed as Sally-Anne began snickering. “What?!” Hermione walked up to her, grinning, before almost throwing whatever she was holding into Ariadne’s chest as Ariadne jumped.

“You need a training bra!” Hermione exclaimed, laughing. Indeed, Hermione had just given her one of hers. Ariadne went what sighted people often called “beetroot red” and froze as everyone in the dorm turned to face her, and Sally-Anne cheered.

“Also, you can’t really tell through those pajamas but you are starting to have a  _ nice _ arse,” Sally-Anne added, only making Ariadne blush more. “Those potions sure are doing the job.” Frowning, Ariadne hesitantly brought her right hand up to her chest to find that Hermione was right. Aching angrily at the pressing intrusion, there was a hard bud and a tiny layer of fat right beneath her nipple. Sally-Anne started clapping, and Lavender cheered as well as Ariadne withdrew her hand, shocked that she hadn’t noticed what was, now she thought about it, most definitely the same ache Hermione had complained about. 

Finally, the Estrogenating Elixir was working. Her breasts had budded.

A beaming Hermione twisted to stand beside her, pushing her back toward her bed.

“All right, you put that on,” Hermione ordered her as she pushed the spluttering Ariadne back to her curtained bed. “You’re not leaving until you have.”

“But d-d-den-do-don’t-don’t you need this?” Ariadne stammered, holding up the bra that dangled from her hands.

“That’s one of my old ones, I grew out of it. Word of advice, don’t do what I did and buy bras in Hogsmeade when you need to, the prices are murder,” Hermione told her, clapping her on the shoulder.

“Yeah, Hermione’s boobs have been growing like crazy, gotta get me some of what she’s going on,” Sally-Anne snickered, at which Hermione shot her a reproachful look.  _ Time travel _ , Hermione mouthed to Ariadne, before pulling Ariadne’s curtains closed. Frowning as tentative joy began to replace her mortification, Ariadne pulled her pajama top off and slowly felt for the other bud.

It was undeniably true, and they had both started. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it was all Ariadne could do to not squeal in joy as she studied the growth she hadn’t noticed in her exhaustion. It seemed her right side was the slightest bit ahead of her left, and she grinned, deliberately bouncing on the spot to ‘sense’ her chest react.

_ That’s enough of that, we have a class to go to _ , Ariadne thought as she took off her pajamas.  _ Might as well get dressed at the same time _ , she thought, before picking up the bra Hermione had veritably thrown into her hands. The first time she tried to put it on, she realized she’d tried inside out as the hook-holds were too tiny for her to sense easily, and once she’d flipped it over, it took her almost a minute to bring the hooks on the back together, her shoulders clicking from the contortion. Once that task had been completed, Sally-Anne giggling outside all the while that she probably didn’t know how to put it on, Ariadne hurriedly got dressed and stepped out.

“Ayy! Is it comfortable?” Hermione asked eagerly, stepping forward and awkwardly examining her. Ariadne shuffled her shoulders.

“It’s… it’s a bit loose?” Ariadne replied, frowning. Hermione nodded.

“That sounds likely, your band size is probably smaller than mine because you’re little. I’m between a 32 and 34 A, you’re probably more between a 28 and a 30 AA. I’ll get Mum to send you some smaller ones,” Hermione replied. “But that should do for now, it’s more for privacy than anything else.” Ariadne smiled, nodding.

“Plus you get a little padding,” Sally-Anne called from the doorway snidely. Hermione wryly nodded, and Ariadne had to admit she didn’t mind a little help with her figure. After going to the bathroom, she and Hermione met up with Ron and Ginny, and made their way to breakfast. After a cheerful time at breakfast, Ariadne grimaced as they returned to the muggy Divination classroom, where Trelawney resumed her class on crystal ball reading.

“Broaden your minds!” Trelawney cried as yet another student failed to see anything but fog in their crystal ball. “You must look beyond! The  _ art _ of crystal gazing is in the clearing of the Inner Eye! Only then can you see. Try again.” Ariadne rolled her eyes at just how clear her inner eyes could be, as she sat hunched over the table, sitting her chin on her crossed arms. Beside her, she was fairly certain Ron was snoring, while Hermione looked into the ball, clearly frustrated. The magical core and coated form of Professor Trelawney turned, and Ariadne straightened abruptly, waking Ron and making Hermione jump as her glasses chain jangled. “Now, what do we have here, hmmm? Ah, I see that omen of growth was accurate. It was a very literal one, you see.” Hermione scrunched up her nose as Trelawney kneeled beside her and Ariadne blushed, shrugging at the orb.

“Do you mind if  _ I _ try?” Hermione asked as Ariadne could sense flecks of annoyance spitting off her core. Trelawney leaned back slightly, offering her arms toward the orb. “The Grim. Possibly,” Hermione announced in what Ariadne recognized to be the closest Hermione tended to get to sarcasm. She frowned at it, however - Hermione was never like that with a teacher. Trelawney turned to her, leaning close as Hermione drew back, that annoyance becoming more akin to fear.

“My dear, from the first moment you stepped into my class, I sensed that you did not possess the proper spirit…” Trelawney said endearingly, before Hermione’s magic spiked as the Professor took hold of her hand and lifted it, and her ever so slight jerky shifting movements intensified as she tried to gently pull away. “...for the noble art of Divination. No, you see, there.” Trelawney drew a finger across Hermione’s palm and Hermione downright wiggled uncomfortably. “Ahh, you may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as on old maid’s, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.” Hermione finally wrested her hands free, breathing heavily before she flung a hand out anxiously and bashed the crystal ball to the ground with a thunk. Ariadne jumped as Hermione’s core began fluttering in fury and she stood, taking her bag and striding heavily out of the door. Sharing Hermione’s disgruntlement, Ariadne picked up her own bag and followed as quickly as she could, stepping carefully around the crystal ball which rolled along the floor as the class began whispering about what had just happened.

“Hermione!” Ariadne called as she tried her best to hurry down the stairs. Hermione hesitantly stopped, frantically waving her free hand in stress. “Are you okay?” she asked. Hermione sniffed, turning and continuing down the stairs once Ariadne caught up.

“No more Divination,” Hermione finally said, seeming partially nonverbal. “Going to drop it.” Ariadne nodded.

“I might as well drop it too,” she added. Hermione turned to her, frowning. “I can’t see anything, there’s no point in me taking an exam in crystal ball reading when it’s just a yellow blob to me,” she explained, a few words slurring together. “Professor McGonagall’s teaching right now, we should wait. Want to go sit in the courtyard by the tree?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And those potions start kicking in good! Good ol’ time travel helping her along.


	102. The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on, and the Granger girls have their second Patronus lesson, accompanied by Ron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said Ariadne would get a break, and she’s getting one that’s effectively two years long. Happy? xD

Professor McGonagall had been only too glad to hear the Grangers were dropping a class, expressing concern for their health as Hermione had clearly lost weight. Hermione wasn’t exactly happy, however, and Professor McGonagall had to remind her that taking eleven classes was still a monumental task and that she was thoroughly impressed with the Grangers’ grades so far that year.

With Divination dropped, Ariadne and Hermione decided to take the period they would have been futilely studying crystal balls, and rest while their other selves took Ancient Runes, where they were well and truly into the poem runes project Professor Babbling had told them about last term - Ariadne had taken a bit to come up with one, but eventually, she was making good progress in translating her - in her opinion rather terrible - poem about the self into the ancient runes to combine into glyphs later. Hermione assured her the poem was better than she thought.

Ron was… confused, to say the least, and it had been difficult to head off his questions during the week of how they hadn’t been dropped into Ancient Runes without any knowledge of the subject. Hermione had lied that she’d been reading up on it all year and had a basic understanding of it beforehand, which had seemed to satisfy him, but Ariadne knew they had to be careful, or else Ron would figure it out. He wasn’t stupid, and he’d already been noticing other signs.

\--

> _To Ariadne_
> 
> _Pigwidgeon? Whoever this Ginny girl is, I love her already._
> 
> _No, he didn’t tell me you’d managed a Patronus! First time, are you kidding? You’d have given your father a run for his money and won easily. It took James almost a month to get a non-corporeal one going in his fifth year, and a year for it to form into a stag - coincidentally not long after we all became Animagi. I’m not sure when Lily worked it out, but you’re definitely earlier. If you can get even a non-corporeal Patronus at 13? You’re set to outshine all of us, dear girl._
> 
> _Remus mentioned you play, he says they call you the White Eyed Wonder. I’m sure that bookish way of yours has informed you that your father did too, he was Chaser and later Seeker for the Gryffindor team. Remus says you don’t put much stock in the idea that you inherited it, but I must say, I had a photograph somewhere of you as a toddler harassing James’ ankles on a toy broom. Maybe a little bit of old learning was still in there, eh?_
> 
> _I wouldn’t worry about losing to Ravenclaw. Something tells me you’ll win by a landslide. ;-)_
> 
> _It’s a cruelty that I spent so much time with James and Lily and you so little that you don’t even remember them. You’d have liked them, although I must candidly admit we could be a little obnoxious at your age. They’d be proud of you, so very proud. I’ve been reading up on your exploits - is it an exaggeration, or did you fight a fucking millenia old Basilisk single handedly_ and win _last year?! Part of me thinks it impossible, but if you managed a Patronus this year… Ariadne Granger, I would put my life in your hands without hesitation. You’ve been so extraordinarily brave, and I think I speak for Remus too when I say you’re an inspiration to the old guard._
> 
> _Let us know what your corporeal Patronus is if you manage it, yeah? James and Lily’s were both deer, so I’m curious to see if yours is one too or if it’s different because you didn’t grow up with them._
> 
> _Good luck with your exams! Remus has some devilish stuff planned, but I’m sure it’ll be a walk in the park for you._
> 
> _Your Godfather,_
> 
> _Sirius_
> 
> _P.S: I’d love to come to the World Cup! Haven’t seen a Quidditch match in 20 years, let your parents know I’d be happy to join you._

Smiling warmly and wondering what Sirius had meant by a landslide, Ariadne folded up the letter and let the expectant - and much larger than Pigwidgeon - owl that must have belonged to the prison leave. She’d write back after her Patronus lesson with Lupin, which promised to be a logistical challenge - Ron was coming, but the twins knew she’d be at Quidditch practice. Wood had increased the schedule to every day, with the Ravenclaw match coming up, and it had only hastened the arrival of Ariadne’s real 14th birthday, the day before. It was a shame she couldn’t tell anyone, but Hermione had surreptitiously given her a cupcake over lunch with a wink. It was nice, to know it had been her birthday and not to have the entire wizarding world know and wish her well. It was a return to normalcy she hadn’t had in years. Putting the letter into her bag, she turned her attention to Hermes, who was standing atop a small package and letter he’d carried. The owl nuzzled her arm as she gave him a few scratches, before nibbling on her fingers as she gave him a treat. Satisfied, Hermes winged off as Ariadne pulled the knot on the package undone to reveal what she’d been sent.

And then immediately scrunched the paper closed as the cup of a bra was caught by her glasses. Ginny, who’d been sitting beside her, gasped and turned to her with a wide smile. Ron jumped from his newspaper at Ariadne’s sudden movement.

“Was that…” Ginny murmured. “Ariadne that’s wonderful! Go you!” she exclaimed as Ariadne felt her ears go red and Ginny rubbed her back in congratulations. She couldn’t help but grin at the fact that Ginny knew, even if she was horribly embarrassed.

“What- what happened?” Ron asked, bewilderedly. “What’s good?”

“Girl stuff,” Ginny told him dismissively, waving a hand, and Ron gladly shuffled back behind his newspaper at the subject. “Mum says she was a late bloomer so I probably will be too,” Ginny whispered, making a face. Turning the parcel upside down so it wouldn’t fall open, Ariadne pulled the magically-inked letter off of it.

> _Ariadne_
> 
> _Hermione says your potions are going well, and that you need these now. I’ve got you two in a 28AA and two in a 30AA, as well as one in a 30A just in case you grow out of them before we see you next (Hermione said that might be a thing because of all the time travel). I know you can’t read the labels, so I’ve written it on the band for you in magic ink._
> 
> _She also says it’s your 14th birthday around now because of those Time Turners! It’s a shame we can’t celebrate it, secret and all, but your father and I wish you a happy time travel 14th birthday._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Mum xoxo_

\--

Despite her exhaustion from several overlapping classes _and_ frustrating Quidditch practices every evening on the Shooting Star broom, Ariadne found herself euphoric on the way to where Hermione had quietly told her to meet her and Ron for the Patronus lesson. They’d pretended Ariadne had had to go to the bathroom, but she had actually gone straight to the dorm, gotten changed and then gone to Quidditch practice where Wood had been on edge all evening.

She wouldn’t admit to it, but she was deliberately ascending and descending stairs with a bit more of a bounce, following the realization she could feel the difference the potions were making, the tiniest mischievous smile on her face as she wondered how much of a fast-forward of development her time travel might afford her. Maybe she’d have to find more excuses to travel back. After all, she did need to sleep anachronistically...

“So what’s it like?” Ron asked, as Ariadne yawned. “Ariadne?”

“Hmm? Oh, the Patronus,” Ariadne mumbled. For a split second she thought he’d meant bras. “It’s like… you need to think of a memory, a happy memory to use. Then, you focus on it and cast the spell, and if it’s strong enough, it’ll create a shield,” she explained as they found their way to the Defence classroom, where Lupin was waiting.

“Ah, Grangers, Mister Weasley, so glad you could make it,” Professor Lupin called from where he was fiddling with a record player. “Thanks to Ariadne here as of last week these lessons probably won’t be necessary, but as the Grangers think, there’s no harm in learning. Probably not many songs you know, Hermione, sorry, but we’ll see if anything helps.” Ron turned to Hermione frowning as Ariadne waved to Lupin.

“Good evening, Professor Lupin. I have a hard time concentrating on it, we’re trying music to drown out miscellaneous sounds that distract me,” Hermione explained to Ron’s bemusement. “Yes Ronald, I’m capable of being distracted, I’m not always hyperfixating on Charms homework,” she added. Ariadne sniffed amusedly.

“Yes, we all have our flaws,” Professor Lupin said. “No Boggart this week, Ariadne, unfortunately that’s elsewhere for the moment.” Ariadne nodded.

“That’s all right. Maybe it’ll make it easier for me to make it corporeal,” Ariadne replied eagerly. Lupin chuckled.

“I wouldn’t plan on it, but we’ll see. Now, do we want to have one of you two girls continue first or shall we bring Mister Weasley here up to speed?” he asked, stepping to the centre of the cleared room and clapping his hands, smiling. Ariadne stepped sideways, turning to Ron and ushering him forward as Hermione smiled at him.

“Me?” Ron spluttered.

“Yes, why not?” Lupin said, stepping over and closing the door before ushering Ron a little forward while Hermione and Ariadne hopped up on one of the desks Professor Lupin had moved to watch and Ron pulled out his wand. “Now. As I have explained to the Grangers, a Patronus is an emotional shield one places between ones’ self and the Dementor. What you need to begin with is a memory, Ronald, a memory. It must be very happy, and very powerful,” Lupin instructed, stepping around the boy. “Close your eyes, and cast yourself back. Explore your past.”

Ron closed his eyes, leaning back ever so slightly.

“Do you have a memory?” Lupin asked him quietly, still stepping slowly around him. Ron nodded slowly.

“I think so, Professor,” Ron replied.

“All right.” Professor Lupin stepped away a bit. “Immerse yourself in it, let it fill you up. And then speak the incantation _Expecto Patronum_.” Ron poised himself, leaning on his right foot ahead of him slightly, inhaling deeply.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Ron yelled, flinging his wand sideways into the air in front of him. The boy’s yellow and blue magical core burst into activity, the little rivers of red and specific proportions of colour that marked him as Ron as opposed to any of his siblings glaring brightly amongst his blue-illuminated form. Despite the magical fanfare, however, not a single blue particle escaped his silvery wand as it faded back to normal again. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Again, nothing, even as his magic flared. “I uh, I don’t think I can do it, Professor,” he told Professor Lupin, relaxing.

“Nonsense, you’ll get it. Might take a long time is all, even I took months of practice to get close and I was in my sixth year, it’s advanced magic,” Lupin assured him, tapping his shoulder. “As a matter of interest, what were you thinking? Which memory did you choose?”

“Being able to move again, after last year,” Ron replied. Ariadne smiled as Hermione looked down.

“ _Getting there_ , getting there, but I don’t know if that’s _joy_ specifically, more relief,” Lupin said. “Is there another, perhaps? It might not be the memory, of course, but it’s always good to try a few.”

“First time I cast a spell?” Ron asked, frowning.

“No, that’s not good enough, not _nearly_ good enough. No,” Lupin replied, shaking his head. “For reference, Ariadne, ever the overachiever, managed to produce a Patronus by using the memory of Hermione naming her. You want something singularly unique and joyful, an important, _powerful_ moment.” Ron rocked on his feet as he thought for a moment.

“I’ll have to think about it, Professor.”

“Of course, we’re in no rush. You have a think about it and we’ll get Hermione over,” Lupin assured him, gently taking his back and leading him to where Ariadne sat. “All right, Hermione, does any of this music seem like it would help you focus?” Lupin asked, taking Hermione over to the record player while Ron hopped up beside Ariadne.

“I don’t know if I _have_ any powerful memories,” Ron said, half to himself and half to Ariadne, as he sat, frowning while Hermione leafed through records across the room. “Not like yours, anyway.”

“Maybe that’s why nobody gets it when they’re young,” Ariadne mused. “Because-because not enough’s happened to them, I’ve just had a weird life.” Ron turned to her, his mouth open.

“Huh,” Ron said, simply, before laughing awkwardly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s… that makes sense, actually.”

“D-don’t-don’t-don-don’t give up though!” Ariadne exclaimed, realizing how it sounded. “You might have something powerful enough!” Ron snorted.

“Yeah, I’ll keep thinking about it. Hey Hermione, find something?” Ron asked as Hermione bobbed back over to the desk.

“No. Ariadne, do you still have your MP3 player?” Hermione asked, flitting her fingers through each other. Ariadne reached an arm into her bag, thinking.

“I think so, let me… here,” Ariadne mumbled, holding it out to her after finally finding it buried underneath a few notebooks. She hadn’t used it in months, it had just been sitting in her bag. “Want to use a song on there?”

“Yes. Thank you!” Hermione replied, running back to Professor Lupin before setting the MP3 player down and pressing the buttons to cycle through songs. Eventually, after blips of half-notes in songs, the gentle guitar of the opening to _Space Oddity_ started. Ariadne frowned as Hermione took a step out into the room and hung her head, focusing as she closed her eyes. Ariadne threw a finger to her lips as Ron went to speak, and Ron sat back.

“Ten…” Hermione counted in unison to the backing vocals. “Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” Hermione opened her eyes. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” she cried as the guitars began to snarl toward the second verse out of the tiny speaker, the golden swirls amongst the red and blue of her magic beaming into energy as a wisp of brilliant blue light fluttered from her wand, nowhere near the conical shield Ariadne had achieved a week before, but strong in its tiny almost flame-like form. Ron gasped as Ariadne leant forward cheering.

“Yes! Well done Hermione!” Ariadne cried, as Hermione’s surprised smile grew in unison with the wisp of magic, until before her hung a cloud of blue. Panting, as the song reached its third verse, Hermione withdrew her wand and stumbled back, the two foot wide conglomeration of energy dissipating as she leant on a table, before pausing the music.

“Amazing Hermione! Truly amazing,” Professor Lupin exclaimed, taking her hand to help her steady herself. “You’ve done better in a week than I did in six months, it’s incredible!”

“Yeah, well done Hermione!” Ron added, beaming at her and hesitantly reaching out an arm before rubbing her shoulder. “That’s really cool!”

“What memory did you use?” Ariadne asked curiously, smiling. Hermione grinned back at her.

“A lot of memories, actually. I used you,” Hermione told her, as Ariadne’s expression went whimsically blank. “You were my first friend, my sister. You listened to me, you didn’t think I was weird. I needed that, when we were little.” Lupin beamed at her as Ariadne pulled Hermione into a hug, Hermione’s increasingly bushy hair smothering her face as she spluttered on it, abruptly pulling away as Hermione realized what had happened and started laughing uncontrollably.

“That’s just wonderful,” Lupin murmured, before Hermione spoke up again.

“And you, Ron.” Ron jumped.

“I-Me?? I keep messing things up!” Ron spluttered, smiling unwillingly and probably blushing.

“But you try, Ron. Outside of Ariadne, you were my first friend, Ron.” Immediately, Ron got the same treatment Ariadne had, the veritable cloud of hair enveloping his upper torso as a sniffling Hermione wrapped him in a hug. Her eyebrows flitting down briefly in thought, Ariadne stood up and stepped over to the table where her MP3 player was and began cycling through songs.

There.

Closing her eyes, Ariadne thought back, the music filling her mind.

> “ _You got your mother in a whirl, she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl!” Ariadne sung, twirling about in Hermione’s room, an ill-fitting skirt flying about her thighs and a jumper she’d borrowed hanging loosely over her. Hermione was singing along too, as Ariadne got dizzy and fell onto the bed, giggling her head off._

“ _Expecto Patronum_ …” Ariadne cast, pushing her wand forward as a cloud of blue energy billowed out, wind jangling her glasses.

> _Ariadne stopped trying to sing, out of breath, as Hermione’s colours leant over and turned down the music._
> 
> _“You like this song, huh?” Hermione asked, as Ariadne smiled and murmured her favourite line._
> 
> _“Maybe one day I can go dancing like that, as me,” Ariadne said._

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ” Ariadne repeated, as the cloud grew stronger and more condensed, her wand shaking as she forced her mind forward before…

Lupin yelped in surprise as right beside him, as he stood suddenly, a small animal began to take shape.

> _“Oh! Do you want to change your name?” Hermione asked eagerly, sitting up._
> 
> **_“We’d be like twins!”_ **

The animal took shape, wisps of energy forming a short figure with four legs, bright glowing eyes, a large bushy tail and a dog’s head with a short-ish snout, that leapt from the floor and onto a table, bouncing with its bushy tail flicking in the air, its tongue out as it opened its mouth and made a high pitched, rattling, laughing sound.

“Merlin!” Lupin exclaimed, speechless as the animal Ariadne couldn’t yet identify bounded around her feet and Hermione jumped back. It didn’t look unlike the Crups they’d worked with in Care of Magical Creatures, but it was a lot smaller than a fully grown Crup, and had a _much_ bushier tail, slightly smaller ears and what looked like a thicker, finer coat.

“Woah!” Ron exclaimed as Hermione watched the Patronus intently. “Wicked!”

“Wh… okay. Okay, that’s a thing,” Lupin said, as the wispy creature bounded around him, leaving a trail of filaments as Ariadne gasped, smiling elatedly as she guided it around. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Whhh-h-h-what is it?” Ariadne asked eagerly as she had it nuzzle around Ron’s feet before returning to a floating stance in front of her.

\--

> _Sirius_
> 
> _(11/02/04)_
> 
> _Yes, you’re reading correct. I did kill the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets last year - it had taken a student, under the control of a piece of Voldemort, I went in and rescued her. Luckily, Dumbledore’s phoenix blinded it, so I was able to distract it to get it away for a bit, but then it came down to it, the Sword of Gryffindor presented itself to me and I blasted it with Bombarda in the mouth. Popped its head right as it tried to eat me._
> 
> _It was pretty scary, I almost died. Mum and Dad say I need to stop putting myself in danger like that, they were concerned when they heard I was part of finding Pettigrew._
> 
> _I managed to make a corporeal Patronus today! I think it takes listening to the music associated with the memory, so I probably can’t do it normally, but it turns out my Patronus is a fox! Hermione says its either an arctic or red fox. She managed to make a non-corporeal one, it was really cool! Ron couldn’t get it, but I can definitely see something happening, so I think he’s closer than he thinks._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Ariadne_

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched some youtube videos of foxes for “research” and had some fun. :)


	103. Firebolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius surprises Ariadne with a late Christmas gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I have spent my evenings staying up late to plan the entire rest of the story so now my planning document is 41 pages long.

“What do you suppose Hagrid’s got for us today?” Ron asked, sitting down at the lunch table as Ariadne leafed through the sheets of copied pages from  _ The Monster Guide to Monsters _ that Professor Hagrid had scrawled out for her in his messy handwriting, glowing blue in front of her. Pigwidgeon, it seemed, had decided to adhere to his new owner, sitting on Ron’s collar, and Hermione was leaning away from the chaotic owl.

“Hey Ron. Maybe he’ll get out Fluffy,” Ariadne replied dryly, setting down the parchment to turn her attention back to her lunch. “Step 1, Crusps. Step 2, Cerberus.”

“Crusps?” Ron snorted as Ariadne rolled her eyes.

“Shut up,” Ariadne chuckled. “Crups,” she added, shaking her head. “How was Divination?” Ron groaned, and Hermione snorted, smiling. It was a bit nicer on them to not have to attend Divination; she and Hermione had just taken a nap after and during Ancient Runes, so they were definitely a little more on their feet than usual.

“Terrible.” The boy started shovelling what Ariadne thought might be buttered toast and ham onto his plate - actually identifying what was on the toast wasn’t exactly possible for her. “But the thing with the crystal balls is you can just make stuff up. Seamus said he’d seen himself drowning in a great ocean, and that it probably meant he’d have a hard time with exams and Trelawney ate it all up.” Ron frowned suddenly. “Wait, Trelawney saw your Patronus! She said she saw a glowing fox! How come it works for you?!” Ariadne smiled mischievously.

“Because-bec-because-because-because I-Because I -I regularly exercise my inner eye,” she replied, leaning forward tauntingly and tapping her glasses. “Honestly, that’s probably why. She’s always going on about not using your normal eyes, and well, I’m already-”

“Ariadne! ‘Adne, ‘Adne, ‘Adne!” Ginny exclaimed, running into the Great Hall with her wand in her hand and a gigantic smile on her face. “‘Adne!” Behind Ginny, a similarly beaming Professor McGonagall patted the excited girl on the shoulder as she walked past. “Ron, I need  _ Pigwidgeon _ for a second.” Ron put down his fork and raised his arm to his collar.

“Get-... Get on my hand, Pig,” Ron muttered. “Bloody nuisance he is, found me as soon as Divination was over. Didn’t even have a letter,” he said, handing Ginny the owl, which eagerly leapt onto Ginny’s arm. Ginny crooned over the owl before depositing him on the table and pointing her wand at him.

“Watch this,” Ginny said excitedly, before taking a deep breath. “ _ Vera Verto! _ ” she cried, forcing her wand forward as her magic blared so much Ariadne swore she could  _ hear _ it shudder, straining against the purple coating surrounding it, her red wand glowing brightly before Ariadne gasped as a bright yellow wave struck out at Pigwidgeon, moulding him into a glowing, yellow, water-goblet.

“Oh my god!” Ariadne exclaimed, a chill running down her neck. “Ginny that’s… that’s incredible!” Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked, as Ron’s bored contemplations of Pigwidgeon ceased, replaced by an amazed blankness and wide eyes.

“It’s perfect, Ginny!” Hermione said, picking up the Pigwidgeon goblet, tapping it. “The material’s perfect, doesn’t resemble Pigwidgeon at all!” Ginny jumped in joy as Ariadne, frozen in joy, wanted nothing more than to pull the girl into a hug.

Ginny had had the same idea, however, so Ariadne’s worries of her own obviousness were moot as she was shocked to suddenly feel Ginny’s arms enveloping her, her small braids dangling on Ariadne’s shoulders as she lost the spell and Pigwidgeon reformed. Pigwidgeon seemed far less shocked by the event, resuming his silly antics as Ron turned his attention to something in the rafters accompanied by the hooting of two larger owls.

“Um, I’m having deja vu,” Ron announced as two owls swooped down toward the Gryffindor table, with a long parcel between them - one end was large and wide, and the other thin end hooked upward slightly. Ariadne frowned as they came in toward her, hurriedly letting Ginny detach before she threw her arms up to catch what was clearly a wrapped broomstick. Ginny gasped, her mouth agape as Pigwidgeon leapt up to Ron’s arm to get out of the way.

Blinking in shock, Ariadne ushered for the space to be cleared as she hesitantly set it down on the table and a number of students turned to stare. Up at the head table, Professor McGonagall was peering over, frowning, so it clearly wasn’t provided by Hogwarts.

Unwrapping it, Ariadne saw why the brush’s wrappings were so wide - the broom came with a pair of prongs slung behind the mount for improved riding posture, so it was clearly a racing broom. What sort, however, Ariadne did not know - it clearly wasn’t a Nimbus, as unlike the refined golden magic of the Nimbus 2000 and 2001 models, this had a strange corkscrew shape to two very distinct orange bars within it, linked by magical cords, not to mention the variety of enchantments on the foot prongs and brush. Hermione, Ginny and Ron all gasped in unison as Ariadne picked up one of two notes that had fallen from the wrapping and cast the Blindsight charm on the ink.

> _ Ariadne, _
> 
> _ You show Ravenclaw who’s boss. _
> 
> _ A late Merry Christmas, _
> 
> _ Sirius. _

Hermione, meanwhile had picked up the other note, which was taller, and was staring at it with her mouth open.

“Ariadne this… this is a Firebolt! That racing broom they were advertising at Diagon!” Hermione told her, handing her the sheet. Casting her spell again, Ariadne’s eyes went wide and her jaw slack as she read the second piece of parchment and gasps rippled down the Gryffindor table.

> _ Ellerby and Spudmore Inc. _
> 
> _ Firebolt x1 _
> 
> _ Invoice of 6000 Galleons paid by the account of Sirius Black on behalf of Ariadne Granger. _
> 
> _ Congratulations on your purchase of the Firebolt - featuring an Unbreakable Braking Charm and gorgeous hand-made craftsmanship, the Firebolt revolutionizes broomstick magic, and has a maximum speed of 230 miles per hour! (note: maximizing speed may cause damage to the broom - warranty does not apply to speeds above 160 miles per hour) _

“Six  _ thousand _ Galleons?! This is a thirty thousand pound broom!” Ariadne marvelled. “Just how much money does Sirius  _ have _ ?!”

“Who cares?” Ron said, leaning over it. “You’ve  _ got _ to try it!” he exclaimed. Ariadne nodded vigorously as a crowd began to gather around, and hoisted the broom into the air. Jogging as best she could, Ariadne found herself surrounded by her peers as she hurriedly made her way to the courtyard, some even cheering that she’d win the Quidditch cup for Gryffindor as others called questions about how fast it was. Oliver had immediately sprinted to follow, trying to get a glimpse as Ariadne came to a halt in the courtyard, in front of the fountain. Shooting Ginny a grin, Ariadne kicked the prongs down gently and mounted the broom.

“Go on, ‘Adne!” Ginny cried, as Hermione cheered. Ariadne took a deep breath.

“Go easy on me, girl,” she murmured as a connection as strong as steel between her own core and the broom’s magical bars formed, and she willed it forward.

She barely had time to comprehend its speed before she was hurtling through the air, the corkscrews of the broom’s magic buzzing with energy, her hair billowing behind her as the castle was gradually revealed behind her as her glasses pulsed too slowly to catch up. She was vaguely aware that Ginny was cheering, but so far away she wasn’t sure if that was her own infatuated interpretation of many voices or not.

And that wasn’t even  _ close _ to full speed.

“Woah!!” she yelled as she rocketed past the Astronomy Tower, pirouetting joyfully, laughing as her cloak flapped loudly behind her. “ _ Yes! _ ” she cried, testing its maneuverability and almost breaking her spine as she was suddenly whipped into a right angled turn toward what she believed to be Gryffindor Tower.

She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed the thrill of flying, on the mediocre Shooting Star. The Firebolt was much faster than her Nimbus 2000 had been, and it was  _ significantly _ more maneuverable, and she had to remind herself not to give herself whiplash. Finally, she tested the Unbreakable Braking charm, and had to grip the broom tightly just to stop herself from flying off the front of it uncontrollably.

Perhaps it would have been a better idea to test that a bit lower to the ground, she realized as she shunted herself to the right. The Firebolt was even better at sideways movement as well, although she didn’t think that was the intention of the maneuverability improvements - non-forward movement wasn’t a style she’d sensed anyone else use outside of dodging Bludgers, but she used it during her patrols for the Snitch a lot.

Rearing back as she descended down toward the courtyard, she was met by the Twins, Hermione, Ginny and Ron cheering, Oliver yelling gladly. However, her attention was only for the wildly clapping Ginny Weasley.

“Oh my god this is so cool!” she exclaimed, swooping to a halt in front of her friends and leaping off the broom. “Ooh, it hovers, nice,” Ariadne muttered, as the Firebolt hovered behind her, awaiting its rider. “D’you wanna go, Ginny?” she asked eagerly. Ginny drew back, surprised.

“I-...” Ginny spluttered. “Hell yeah!” Ginny exclaimed, stepping forward as Ariadne let her on. “Thanks ‘Adne!”

“Careful, it’s  _ fast! _ ” Ariadne yelled as Ginny exploded forward and up into the air, cheering.

“Holy shit, Granger, is that-” Wood exclaimed, having made his way forward. “Is that a bloody Firebolt?!” 

“Yep, courtesy of my godfather,” Ariadne nodded, smiling eagerly. 

“The Irish national team are playing on those this year, they’re the best brooms in the world right now!” Oliver said. “HA! I can  _ smell _ the polish on the Cup!” Ariadne grinned.

“Hey, do you want a go, Hermione?” Ariadne asked as she watched Ginny elegantly dance through the air on the Firebolt above them - again, it seemed that despite the bracelet suppressing her magic, Ginny had no problem connecting to a broom, far from it. Ariadne felt her cheeks go pink, sensing how easily Ginny had taken to the Firebolt.

“Oh, no,” Hermione gasped, smiling awkwardly. “I have enough trouble on the slow brooms and that’s… that’s the fastest broom in the world, Ariadne. I’d crash into a tower, break every bone in my body and end up in the Hospital Wing for a month and Sirius would have wasted six thousand galleons.”

“Can I have a go?” Ron asked eagerly, grinning. “Please?”

“Sure. Just be quick, we don’t want to be late to Care of Magical Creatures,” Ariadne replied as Ginny virtually skidded to a stop a few feet from where she’d started, grinning maniacally.

“Ariadne, this broom is fucking awesome!” Ginny exclaimed, hopping off and letting Ron on. “Careful Ron, it’s a lot faster than the Swiftstick,” she warned, panting in awe.

“Language, Ginevra!” Percy exclaimed, although he didn’t seem as perturbed as he normally would have been as Ginny glared at him and Ariadne’s ears went hot just as Ron lifted off carefully.

“Oh shut up,  _ Percival _ .”

\--

It was late February, and the early spring rain had left the Hogwarts grounds damp and musty, although clear that day. The sun was warm on Ariadne’s face, and she was fairly certain she’d just sensed a butterfly’s shape for the first time.

She’d also just been winded by a Bludger to the stomach. 

Normally, Ariadne would have been able to dodge it, especially on the incredibly maneuverable Firebolt, but the problem was, she  _ had _ . She’d dodged the  _ other _ Bludger easily, before stupidly shunting straight into the path of the second. Wincing, Ariadne held her right hand to what she was fairly sure was going to become a nasty bruise, and ascended a bit, drifting to the right to peruse the field.

“All right there Granger?” Wood yelled, at which Ariadne only offered a thumbs-up as she drifted gently past him in the wind, keeping a closer mental eye on the Bludgers.

They were 70-20 up on Ravenclaw, and Ariadne’s counterpart, Zhou Chang was hanging above, spinning desperately as she searched for the Snitch. If she saw it early enough before Ariadne sensed it, Ravenclaw would win, but if Ariadne sensed it, Zhou would never catch her on what Ariadne recognized as the magic of a 10-year-old Comet 260. The Firebolt’s top speed was almost double that of the Comet, and that was going off the 160 mile per hour warranty. At its maximum possible speed, she’d be across the entire pitch in just over half a second, if it weren’t for the need for her to both accelerate and still have her skin by the end of it.

Smirking slightly, Ariadne had an idea.

Ariadne tensed on her broom, jerking her head up as Ravenclaw scored another point to the disappointment of the Gryffindor fans in the crowd as the score became 70-30. Immediately, she had Zhou’s attention.

With the gentlest of mental commands, she sent the Firebolt blazing across the pitch toward one of the blue-illuminated towers where the Professors sat, hurtling past the stands as the previously disheartened Gryffindor fans misinterpreted her maneuver - just as Zhou did, as her opponent charged after her, believing she’d sensed the Snitch.

“And Ariadne Granger leaps into action, quickly followed by Cho Chang on that Comet 260 - I sincerely doubt she’ll be able to catch Granger on that brand new Firebolt, but that is not stopping her from trying. Is the White Eyed Wonder once again on the trail of the Golden Snitch?” Lee Jordan cried through the microphone, as Ariadne grimaced at his mispronunciation of Zhou’s name.

She was not, for that matter, on the trail of the Golden Snitch. She was merely trying to distract Zhou while she took a much faster patrol of the pitch than usual, hoping Zhou would be watching  _ her _ and not, say, Bludgers. It was a tactic she hadn’t used before, ere she become the girl who cried wolf, but it was definitely exhilarating as she spun around the tower, in two corkscrews before barreling toward the other side of the pitch, zigzagging chaotically as she tried to think like a Snitch.

Spontaneously as she could, she suddenly pitched to the right, toward Ravenclaw’s hoops and their Keeper Grant Page. Sensing an opportunity as Katie rocketed toward them with the Quaffle, she looped up past him, less than a metre or two in front of the boy, as Page reeled back and Zhou went past as well. Ariadne marvelled at the maneuverability of her broom - the Nimbus 2000 would never have managed the tight turns required.

It worked, as Page did not see the oncoming Quaffle, as behind Ariadne, a gong and an ecstatic Lee Jordan signified the score becoming 80-30. As Zhou spun to see what Ariadne had done, she punched the air angrily and resumed her normal patrolling. It seemed that that little game was over, as Ariadne did the same, going back to her drifting pattern as she stuck her tongue out at Zhou, cackling.

“Merlin, Granger you bitch!” Zhou exclaimed jovially, laughing as well before dodging a Bludger.

“Incredible! It seems that Granger did  _ not _ in fact sense the Snitch, instead baiting Ravenclaw Seeker Cho Chang into chasing her!” Lee Jordan yelled as Ariadne hawkishly flitted her mental eye about the pitch.

A purple dot was flitting about the base of Oliver’s right-most hoop.

Once again, Zhou pushed her Comet 260 into a charge, but this time, Ariadne was not holding the Firebolt back to allow Zhou to chase her. In at most three seconds as the crowd had only just reacted, she was hot on the Snitch’s tail, gaining fast.

To add insult to injury, Zhou was blown sideways by a Bludger sent careening into her by Fred, as Ariadne’s fingertips brushed the Snitch.

Wrapping her fingers around the tiny ball, Ariadne came to a triumphant stop, throwing her hand into the air, the wings of the Snitch struggling to a stop as Madam Hooch’s whistle blared across the pitch.

“AND GRYFFINDOR’S ARIADNE GRANGER ONCE AGAIN CATCHES THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS 230 TO 30!” Lee Jordan bellowed as half the stadium erupted into applause and Ariadne spiralled upward slowly, Oliver clapping furiously from his position as the Bludgers stopped and both Katie and Angelina spun around her in celebration. “With Gryffindor’s win today, our final match of the season WILL BE, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, who lead them by 200 points! It’ll be a hard match, and I for one look forward to seeing if Captain Oliver Wood, in his departing year, will lead Gryffindor to its first Quidditch Cup victory in eight years!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Ariadne is about two thirds again richer than Sirius is. Sirius has approximately 200,000 Galleons and Ariadne has approximately 320,000. She could easily have afforded a Firebolt *herself* if it weren’t for the 50 Galleon a year (+20 for Christmas + birthday money not included) limit le Granger parents enforce. I don’t know if *Harry* is, because technically the source I got the numbers from does not specify if that 320,000 is before or after Sirius’ will, but I choose that it’s before only because it’s hilarious how much money that is.  
> At full speed (the 230 mph I’ve given it, I decided that the listed ~150 on its wiki page was just the speed at which you don’t void the warranty), and if accelerated up to before hitting it, the Firebolt would cross a Quidditch pitch’s length in 0.53 seconds.   
> Zhou’s name change is based on a discussion I read regarding it on a linguistics forum, and is because I have seen a lot of discussion around the name being effectively “ching chong” and I did not feel comfortable leaving it.


	104. Outed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is enraged by what she finds in the Daily Prophet not a month before exams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Public outing, transphobia (mentioned)

It had been two months, give or take a few days, since Ariadne had caught the Snitch against Ravenclaw.

At least, it had been two months for everyone else.

As Hogwarts geared up for the rapidly approaching exam period, Ariadne and Hermione were feeling the consequences of their decisions keenly. It may have been the last weekend of May, but even with the ability to bend time to their whim, Ariadne’s every waking moment, linear or not, was fraught with exhaustion and weekends did nothing to change that. With exams to be held for every subject under the sun, Ariadne and Hermione were known to commandeer a number of tables in the Common Room every evening, dragging them into nooks so they could surround themselves in notes, textbooks and previous classwork and stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning studying.

Ariadne was glad to have the vast majority of her assignments done, leaving the way clear for her to dedicate herself to her exams. Professor Burbage had been ecstatic to read hers and Hermione’s essays regarding non-magical television, Ariadne’s case study on  _ Doctor Who _ and science fiction and Hermione’s essay on the recent developments of computer graphics in non-magical cinema - with particular emphasis on Gollum, Shelob and the Battle of Pelennor Fields, from  _ The Two Towers _ and the recently released  _ Return of the King _ , which Hermione had been quietly hyperfixating on for months after using the assignment as an excuse to rewatch the movies a half dozen times during the Christmas holidays - both received an Outstanding grade, well above every single other student in the class. After that year, Ariadne was certain that Muggle Studies had lost its reputation as an easy pass. In Study of Ancient Runes, both had seen high praise for the precision of their translations, especially given their both having used quite abstract language in the original English of their short poems. Ariadne was pretty sure she’d made some grammatical errors though, as she reviewed her work in a pile of notebooks and compared it to  _ Spellman’s Syllabary _ , while Hermione wordlessly borrowed the Care of Magical Creatures readings. Her sister may have been able to read  _ The Monster Book of Monsters _ , but that didn’t mean she enjoyed constantly ensuring it didn’t go feral on her now that the original novelty of it had worn off after what was quickly shaping up to be - for them - two years of its use.

Despite how much work it put on her, Ariadne was liking the compression of time thanks to its continued assistance on her potions. Madam Pomfrey had been glad to see her rapidly begin catching up with her peers, and the training bras their mother had sent her were becoming tangibly more snug with every passing week. Sally-Anne had also been right - there was definitely a little more to her hips, now that she paid attention to it in the shower and getting changed. It was becoming legitimately distracting, as the euphoria of her body’s new changes sat in the back of her mind at all times, piling on top of her infatuation with Ginny, who had taken to putting small braids into her uncooperative hair for her every now and then, which was going nowhere.

Ginny had been doing extraordinarily well in her classes. Despite the virtual shackle on her wrist, she’d gone from struggling to cast a simple light to her magical core bursting with energy as she performed basic transfigurations with no apparent difficulty - Ginny claimed the contrary, that it was immensely difficult, but she couldn’t deny the incredible progress she’d made, and Ariadne was far from alone in congratulating her on it.

She was, however, alone in appreciating Ginny’s increasing skill with the drums, as she filled Gryffindor Tower with rhythms she’d taught herself. The House seemed to appreciate when Ariadne tempered it by providing a David Bowie song to drum to, but that wasn’t why Ariadne enjoyed singing along to  _ Ziggy Stardust _ disharmoniously with the younger girl.

“Hermione, do you even sleep?!” Ron asked incredulously as Hermione yawned for at least twelve seconds straight and the hoots of owls began filling the Hall. “You weren’t this tired last year and you’d been Petrified!” Idly wondering if Sirius had written to her, she watched Pigwidgeon flutter from the rafters and scatter a pile of toast toward Ron. Frowning, Ron took the rather thick letter he was carrying, and opened it.

“Huh…” Ron mumbled. “Oh wow! Ginny! Percy! Fred, George! Dad won tickets!”

“Tickets?” Hermione asked as all of the Weasleys save Percy leapt to attention.

“To the World Cup final!” Ron exclaimed, grinning eagerly. “Top Box tickets! Dad even got enough for all of us  _ and _ ‘Adne and Hermione and their parents if they want to come!” Ariadne jumped, and Hermione started stimming excitedly with her left hand.

“Yeah, absolutely!” Ariadne replied. “Can… can Sirius come?” Ron frowned, and turned back to the letter as ever more owls began filling the Hall and newspapers were dropped.

“I… I don’t think he got a ticket for him, but if Mum doesn’t want to come, she might be all right with him taking hers?” Ron said, uncertainly, as he perused the envelope.

“He can have mine,” Percy said politely, handing Ariadne the ticket Ron had just handed him. “I won’t be available. I’ve been offered a job at the Ministry, and I’ll be busy, sorry Ron.”

“Thanks Percy,” Ariadne said, as Ron handed her her own ticket and the two for their parents. “Sorry you can’t come.”

“Oh it’s all right. Quidditch isn’t my thing anyway, he’ll enjoy it more than I would,” Percy assured her as Hermione thanked Ron for her ticket and picked up a newspaper.

Hermione’s eyes went wide as she unrolled it, gasping in horror as the entire Hall had already began to whirr up into activity at whatever was on it. Hermione held a hand to her mouth as she turned her head to face the head table, Ariadne catching glimpses of what was at best a forlorn expression as the magic of her glasses flitted between Hermione’s fingers.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Ariadne asked, concernedly.

“Someone…” Hermione spluttered, gaping at the paper. “Someone outed Professor Lupin. To the Prophet.” 

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” Ariadne’s blood ran cold as she seized the paper and pulled her wand out of her pocket. “ _ Aurum  _ ink!” Rage enveloped her mind as she read the headline.

> _ LUPINE LUPIN - WOULD YOU TRUST A WEREWOLF WITH YOUR CHILDREN? _

“ _ Snape _ ,” she hissed angrily as her fingers tensed like claws around the roll of parchment. “He’s been trying to all year, I bet it was him,” she growled as, at the head table, Professor Lupin’s expression went blank and he grimly made his way from the Hall via the side doors. Ron seized the paper, as Ginny leant over his shoulder.

“Wait, Professor Lupin’s a  _ werewolf?! _ ” Ron exclaimed, gaping at the headline. “I liked him!”

“You say that like you don’t anymore,” Ariadne said sternly, turning to him. Ron frowned.

“He’s a werewolf, Ariadne,” Ron said as if he thought she didn’t understand. “He’s dangerous.”

“Name a single individual he’s harmed,” Hermione told him, obvious rage brimming beneath her stern expression as Ariadne nodded resolutely. “Name  _ one _ . That attitude is exactly why he didn’t want people to know, because he can barely keep a job for more than a few months before someone realizes and he gets sacked or has to leave.” Ron drew back, realizing the weight of what he’d said. “It’s why most werewolves live in poverty away from other humans and can’t afford Wolfsbane potion, because people say things like that.”

“Think of it this way, Ron,” Ariadne said quietly. “How do you think I would have felt if you, or Ginny, had outed me when you found out I’m trans?”

“But- but that’s different, you’re not… you’re not dangerous,” Ron spluttered.

“A lot of people think I am. A lot of people say I’m a pervert, that I’m just trying to sexually assault my dormmates. The-be-the-be-e-thebebe-there’s a reason I burn a lot of letters, because they’re hate mail,” Ariadne told him angrily, her jaw tensing. “This is no different. People will say he’s dangerous, that he’ll bite someone on a full moon. But has that happened? No. Because he’s not dangerous. This will ruin his life, Ronald. Imagine what would have happened if you’d-” Ariadne was cut off by another owl landing directly in front of her. Hesitantly, Ariadne plucked the letter from its beak as Ginny leant over.

“Hang on, you knew, didn’t you?” Ginny asked quietly.

“Yes, ever since Snape set the essay on werewolves, and Ariadne can see it,” Hermione replied as Ariadne unfolded the letter. “Professor Snape has been trying to out him all year. What is it, Ariadne?” she asked as Ariadne took one look at the letter and started fuming.

“The WWN want to know if I’d like to appear on the radio this afternoon. To offer my thoughts,” she spat. “Well, if they want my thoughts, they can have them,” Ariadne snarled, pulling out her pen and magical ink to write a response on it. “ _ I… would be… happy… to… appear… on your… show… this afternoon… at… two… o’clock… Ariadne… Granger _ .”

\--

That afternoon, Ariadne trudged into the main square of Hogsmeade, trying to keep the burning fury she was fuming in off her face in order to maintain some semblance of politeness as she stepped in the door of the Hogsmeade branch of the Wizarding Wireless Network. She’d meant to confer with Professor Lupin about what she would say, but she hadn’t even been able to  _ find _ him, and as such she was relying on the statistics Hermione had collated over the past year. Eventually, Ariadne was ushered into the much smaller recording booth than the one in the Diagon station, while Hermione and Ginny sat in the lobby, where a tiny speaker was playing the final few minutes before they transferred. Opposite her sat a tall woman, with round features and straight hair that reached her shoulders before stopping evenly, who smiled and shook Ariadne’s hand as they were both given a set of headphones.

“ _ And now we’re going to hand over to Grace at the Hogsmeade branch, where she’ll be speaking with Ariadne Granger about this morning’s Hogwarts news. I’ve been Angelo, and you’re listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network. Take it away, Grace _ ,” Angelo said in the headphones, before Grace repositioned herself.

“Thank you, Angelo,” she said warmly, on the other side of the table from Ariadne. “This morning, the Daily Prophet reported on a new development at Hogwarts - thanks to an anonymous source, we now know that Professor Remus Lupin, currently teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is in fact a werewolf. Here with me today to discuss this disturbing revelation, is none other than the Girl Who Lived, and third year student under Lupin, Ariadne Granger. Good afternoon, Ariadne. We’re all curious, how do you feel, after hearing about the news this morning?” Grace asked, leaning forward and smiling. Ariadne’s face remained grim.

“Good afternoon, Grace. Would you like me to be polite, or frank?” Ariadne asked slowly, having scripted her initial responses beforehand in her head.

“Oh, be as frank as you like, young lady!” Grace replied, smiling. “Go right ahead.”

“Okay,” Ariadne said, inhaling sharply as her upper arms went slightly numb from the stress. “I am fundamentally disgusted by the actions of the d-editorial team at-of the Daily Prophet this morning and their brazen disregard for Professor Lupin’s privacy, and whoever leaked this information has utterly betrayed his trust and is no friend of mine.” The booth fell silent as Grace blinked, shocked.

“I’m… I’m sorry?” Grace asked, almost sideways. “Are you saying you stand  _ with _ Lupin?”

“Without hesitation,” Ariadne replied, nodding. “I have known that Professor Lupin is a werewolf for many months, it has not affected our working relationship as student and teacher. I’ve even studied with him outside of class to learn-to learn-to learn the Patronus Charm.”

“You  _ knew _ ?” Grace exclaimed incredulously. “And you didn’t tell anyone?!” Ariadne leaned forward.

“Do you think I should have?” Ariadne said sternly. “Do you think I should have outed him to the entire wizarding world and ruined his life?” Ariadne inhaled. “Grace, you may recall, that I came out as transgender on this very network not a year ago. Do you know why I did that?” Grace shook her head, frowning. “Because I needed to make sure I came out on my own terms. That I was not outed against my will and the world told I was a pervert rather than a girl, like many a classmate did before I came to Hogwarts. To prevent exactly what is happening to Professor Lupin right now from happening to me. Professor Lupin has been de-den-deni-denied that opport-ppor-opo-p-o-opportun-opportunity,” Ariadne said, her stammer beginning to set in from suppressed rage. “Hermione and I didn’t tell anyone because of  _ this _ .”

“How can you… how can you even feel safe at Hogwarts though, knowing there’s a monster living in the castle?!” Grace cried, waving her arms. Ariadne spluttered like a fish, apoplectic that Professor Lupin would be called a monster.

“A  _ monster?! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed. “I would feel safe camping in the Forbidden Forest beside him on a full moon!”

“What?! Ariadne, he’s a werewolf!”

“Yes, I know, I can  _ see it _ . I also know that as a Hogwarts professor, he has access to Wolfsbane Potion right now, access which is-is-which is dis-dis-disgustingly lacking in the wider community.” Ariadne pulled the sheets of parchment she’d brought with her out of her jumper pocket, and cleared her throat. “Only five percent of British werewolves report even  _ occasional  _ access to Wolfsbane Potion, two percent on a regular, reliable basis. And that’s only the people willing to take part in the survey!”

\--

Ariadne stormed back into the castle, enraged. Instead of listening to the litany of statistics she’d gathered on the plight of the lycanthropic community in Britain, Grace had cut what was scheduled to be a thirty minute interview short, instead going to an ad break and asking her to leave. At least she’d said something. Ariadne didn’t know if it would make a difference as a minor headache cropped up as a result of her stress, if anything she thought it might only increase the percentage of hate mail in her Hogsmeade box, but Ariadne knew as she tentatively strode toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, that she couldn’t live with herself if she hadn’t. At least Ron had taken it to heart - he’d profusely apologised for his reaction, and congratulated Ariadne on standing up for Lupin as they’d walked in the late spring slush that marked the path back to the castle. She hoped others would be so introspective.

Glad to notice Professor Lupin’s office door open and his ever unique magical core within as she finally reached the classroom, Ariadne quickly strode over to the staircase and hung in the doorway. 

“Hello, Ariadne,” Lupin said, turning to her dramatically as Ariadne raised her arm to knock on the doorframe. As her glasses pulsed, Ariadne sensed some drastic changes to Lupin’s office since she’d last been in there. All around were cases, many open, books in bound stacks rather than on the shelves, and the Marauder’s Map lying unfolded, glimmering red, on the central table. Near his record player, a small radio buzzed Celestina Warbeck music quietly. “I saw you coming.” Lupin pointed to the map, before pointing his wand to a case near her head and a yellow arm folded it closed.

“You’ve… you’ve been sacked, haven’t you?” Ariadne asked sadly, stepping into his office. “That’s why you’re packing.”

“No,” Lupin replied, tearing up a piece of parchment and flitting the pieces into his fireplace. “No, I resigned, actually.”

“What?!” Ariadne cried, stepping forward, her mouth hanging open. “But… You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had!” she said, a tear forming in her eye as she sniffed. Lupin smiled.

“I’m grateful you think so, Ariadne, but tomorrow the owls will start arriving and parents will not want a um… well, someone like me teaching their children,” Professor Lupin said, glumly. 

“But you’re not dangerous!” Ariadne cried. “You’ve proven that just by being here!”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t convince many, Ariadne,” Lupin replied, zipping up a large bag. “People like me are… well, let’s just say I’m used to it by now.” Ariadne sniffed, tears beginning to track down her face as she slowly stepped around the table and offered him a hug as he flicked his wand at a suitcase and shut it. “Oh, there there,” Professor Lupin muttered as he pulled the short girl into the offered embrace. “What I’m not used to, though, is people defending me,” he told her as he let her off. “I was listening,” he added, pointing to the radio.

“I didn’t get anything wrong, did I?” Ariadne asked hurriedly. She didn’t want to accidentally misrepresent the issue.

“Oh no no no, no not at all,” Professor Lupin assured her, smiling warmly at her. “I must admit, tuning in in the first place was a bit defeatist of me, until I heard you.” The man frowned. “Did you really mean all that?”

“Every word, Professor,” Ariadne replied resolutely, nodding. Lupin smiled. “I’d hex whoever told them, in a heartbeat.” Lupin chuckled breathily.

“Merlin, you really are just as kind as Lily, if not more.” Lupin led her back around the desk, fiddling with another box. “Thank you, Ariadne. If I am proud of anything, it is of how much you have learned this year. Hmm… Now, since I am no longer your teacher, I feel no guilt whatsoever about giving this back to you,” he smirked, nodding to the Marauder’s Map and winking. “Mischief Managed,” he said, tapping it and resetting it to its orange, dormant state as a yellow warble folded it up. Despite the cheerful tone, Ariadne hung her head.

“What… what day… what day are you leaving?” she asked quietly. Lupin nodded.

“Next Tuesday. Professor Dumbledore insists I remain for the full moon this week, just to make sure I have enough time to resettle before the next.” Ariadne thought for a moment, mentally doing the math.

“I’ll meet you in the courtyard Thursday evening. With a slee-with-with a sleeping bag.” Lupin drew back, shocked. “I meant what I said. I’m sure we have a tent somewhere in Gryffindor Tower.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry folks. I ain’t *that* nice.


	105. The New Marauders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is true to her word, and she and her friends join Professor Lupin to support him during the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a lil’ longer than usual, because I do in fact have a life.

That week, Ariadne found that Draco Malfoy and his little gang of mostly Slytherin toadies had added a few new slurs to their attacks on her character. Not only had he started insinuating that Professor Lupin had bitten her and that she was only defending him out of some kind of misplaced parental pack instinct, but terms like wolf-lover had begun to filter into the litany of derogatory terms they’d compiled when she’d come out as trans. 

Ariadne didn’t really care what they said about  _ her _ . Draco would be Draco, after all. It was the insinuations of Lupin having bitten her that worried her - not only would it worsen Lupin’s reputation, but it wasn’t particularly easy to disprove, and Malfoy had already used her and Hermione’s constant exhaustion as ‘proof’ that the two were now, as he called it, “the Mudblood and the mutt.”

“And so what if I  _ was  _ a werewolf?” Ariadne asked rhetorically as she looked through cupboards in the Common Room for a tent and sleeping bags on Thursday afternoon. “I’d be-I’d be-I’d-I’d be able to afford Wolfsbane for the rest of my life three times over if I had to, only reason I’m not paying for Professor Lupin’s after he leaves is because he said no. If anything, I’m the best possible student to get bitten. I guess that’s one way to get a period,” she snorted, to the mirth of her friends around her.

“Nothing in here,” Ron told her, after closing a closet while Lavender and Sally-Anne laughed.

“I dunno what I’d prefer, being a werewolf or periods,” Sally-Anne mused. “One over the other, obviously, both together would  _ SUCK _ . Imagine being on your period  _ and _ the full moon,  _ ow _ .” Ariadne grimaced.

“Nothing in here either. Hey Fred! You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a tent, would you?” Ariadne called across the Common Room, groaning as she heard her back crack as she straightened up from the cupboard she’d checked.

“You sure you’re not a werewolf?” Sally-Anne joked, raising an eyebrow as Ariadne held a hand to her back.

“If I was I wouldn’t be looking for a tent,” Ariadne replied dryly. “Fred?”

“Don’t ask where we got it,” George said, getting up from the sofa and jogging up the stairs, passing Hermione who’d come down with a bundle in her arms Ariadne couldn’t identify from the distance.

“I hope he’ll be okay,” Lavender said sadly. “He must be having a really bad time right now. I actually went and read that report, the one you talked about on the radio, it’s really sad how werewolves are treated.”

“Ready to go?” Hermione asked, holding up the sleeping bag she’d borrowed from Kellah.

“Just waiting on George to fetch a tent they have,” Ariadne replied. “And it’s not that late yet.”

“Don’t want to be  _ too _ late,” Hermione said pointedly. “Besides, it’d be nice to have time to chat a bit before it happens, he won’t be able to talk afterward.” Ariadne nodded, smiling.

“Here we are!” George announced, stepping down with a large bag. “One tent. It’s not the biggest, but it should be all right.”

“Thanks George,” Ron said, taking it from his older brother and hoisting it onto his shoulder. “Hey, isn’t this Dad’s? No wonder he could never find it.” Fred and George exchanged a worried look, before George simply pressed a finger to his lips.

“Well, we’d-we’d better get going,” Ariadne said, shaking her head at the twins’ duplicity, and hoisted her small bag and her own borrowed sleeping bag onto her shoulders. “See you, guys!”

“Have fun!” Sally-Anne called as the three approached the painting door. “I guess, have fun? Have fun.” Ariadne nodded.

“We’ll see,” she said simply. “Sleep well!” Ariadne waved to their dormmates as the portrait closed behind her, Hermione and Ron. The castle was quiet that evening, as spring was giving way to summer and lukewarm slush had given way to hot sun. Had she - ironically - had time, Ariadne would have even considered having a picnic like they had had the year before, but until exams were done, that was well out of the question. After carefully making their way down the animated staircases, they were shortly sitting on a stone bench near the rickety bridge’s courtyard area, a small fountain trickling nearby as the trees rustled in the breeze.

“So. We’re camping with a werewolf,” Ron said after a moment of silence as Hermione tapped her foot nervously. “Never thought I’d say that.” Ariadne faced up, sensing Professor Lupin on the way. Unlike usual, what was normally an angry blue fungus in his magic was now chalky and grey, probably the manifestation of the Wolfsbane Potion, she presumed. He was walking with a cane, and seemed to be wearing what was more akin to a dressing gown than his usual suit, and no shoes.

“Ah, Ariadne, Hermione, Ron,” Lupin called gently as he approached. “Having a good day?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied. “Just handed in some final work to Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration.” Lupin nodded.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Professor Lupin said, reaching into one of the pockets of his dressing gown and pulling something out. “I brought marshmallows and some skewers, thought it might be nice for you three to roast them over a campfire,” he told them, tossing Ron the paper bag. “Unfortunately I can’t have more than a small handful, especially not this week. The curse of being like me, that much sugar doesn’t always agree with you.”

“That sucks,” Ron lamented, peering into the bag.

“Hmm. I’m used to it.”

“Have you got a spot in mind, Professor?” Hermione asked. “Or shall we just look about?” Lupin sniffed, before rearing back and waving his hand in front of his face.

“Gah, Ron, you really need to get some deodorant, you’ve been sweating all day,” Lupin chuckled as Ron drew back, before sniffing his own armpits. “There’s a lovely little inlet at the outskirts of the Forest, it’s nice this time of year and it seems like a nice spot to pitch your tent. Shall we?” The man told them gently, holding out his arm to direct them toward the crooked bridge as they stood up, gathering their things.

“So you can smell really well, yeah?” Ron asked bluntly as they crossed, and Lupin snorted.

“Particularly right now,” Professor Lupin replied, leaning on his cane. “It fluctuates.”

“Sorry I didn’t shower, Professor,” Ron mumbled.

“Ha! I’ll just breathe with my mouth,” Lupin laughed. “In any case, you’re camping anyway, it’d have been a bit redundant. Hmm.. Ariadne, if you don’t mind my asking, I’ve noticed you sort of… bob, from side to side, when you go up and down stairs, I was wondering why that is?” he asked as they began down the path that would have otherwise led to Professor Hagrid’s hut.

“Hmm?” Ariadne frowned, thinking as she stepped down. “Oh! Oh, sometimes stairs blend together for me with these, I need to make sure I know where the stair is. I don’t sense perspective in quite the same way, I don’t think,” she replied, suddenly very conscious of her head’s movement as she tapped her glasses frames with a finger. Lupin nodded.

“Intriguing. I believe you’ve mentioned your sense is spherical rather than binocular, yes?” Ariadne nodded. “That must be strange.”

“I’ve never known any different,” Ariadne shrugged. “I don’t remember when I could see, I was just a toddler.”

“Have you ever come out here on other moons?” Hermione asked curiously, after a brief pause. “To change.”

“Uh… not until recently, and only on occasion. You see, the potion was only invented in the ‘90s, it didn’t exist when I was a boy,” Professor Lupin said hesitantly, groaning slightly as he led them off the path and onto the bumpy ground, where Ariadne was happy to keep his slower pace.

“So where did you go?”

“The Shrieking Shack. It’s why it was built, in fact. Professor Dumbledore saw the rumours of its haunting as an excellent cover story, so he encouraged it,” Lupin sighed. “It was… not pleasant. Let’s just say, my fuzzy little friend doesn’t like being contained.” Ron grimaced as they stepped over a thick root and into the Forbidden Forest. “I’m forever grateful that Dumbledore took such extreme measures to allow me to come to Hogwarts, we weren’t sure if I could.”

“Wait, were you bitten as a  _ kid _ ?” Ron asked in a disturbed tone from behind Ariadne. Lupin turned briefly to look at him, before turning back to the ‘path’.

“Yes. Fenrir Greyback was running a bit of an extortion racket on my parents. When they couldn’t pay up… well, Greyback thought their son was a fair price. My father fought him off, but...” Lupin explained grimly. “I’m sorry, this isn’t a very pleasant story to be telling.”

“No no, that’s all right,” Ariadne replied quietly. “Um, you said once that my father knew. Did that help?”

“Oh immensely,” Lupin replied, his mood almost immediately lightening. “They all did, you know. James, Sirius… even Peter. It was what bound us together, what made us the ‘Marauders’.” Lupin sniffed, waving his hands humorously at the name. “And it was why they became animagi. They would come with me sometimes, it helped.” Ariadne stopped, frowning.

“Wasn’t my dad a stag?” she asked.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re saying my father became a deer,” Ariadne said hesitantly. “A large herbivorous prey animal, whose primary predators in the wild are wolves, to hang out with,  _ at the time _ , an instinct driven hypercarnivore?” she asked incredulously. Lupin burst out laughing, doubling over in mirth. Ariadne smiled whimsically, seeing him happy.

“Haha- ohhh dear. Ha. Heh, your uh, your father, unlike you, was  _ not _ known for his intelligent decisions, Ariadne,” Professor Lupin chuckled as he led them down a bank. Ariadne snorted. “It wasn’t a problem, luckily. It’s interesting. I became almost… tame, around them. Enough of the real me glimmering through, I suppose. Sirius and James were large enough they could control me when they needed to.”

“Three friends,” Hermione remarked whimsically, smiling and tapping her knuckles. Lupin sniffed, smiling.

“This does remind me a lot of them,” he told her lightly. “Thank you, er… thank you for coming, all of you. It helps, it really does. To not be alone.”

“It’s no trouble, Professor,” Ariadne replied, smiling at him as he continued to sniff, as if he were on the verge of tears. “Is this the spot?” she asked, as the characteristic void of a large body of liquid peered out from the trees.

“Mhmm. It’s not much of a beach, but it should be flat enough for the tent.” Professor Lupin led them down the bank, before he idly milled about as Ron dropped the tent bag onto the ground. Within fifteen minutes, Hermione and Ariadne had taken over putting up the tent from a clueless Ron, who had instead set about setting up a spot for a fire with Lupin’s help. As one might have expected from a tent belonging to Arthur Weasley, it was in fact not a wizarding tent - it was a muggle one, and not a simple one at that. It had largely been Hermione explaining the process to Ariadne and having her put it up, since Hermione had trouble with the textures and sounds of the tent and imitating the motions shown, and Ariadne couldn’t easily read the instructions even with her spell because of the material they were printed on. Eventually, their little tag team had unpacked inside the surprisingly cozy tent, even if it was a little cramped for three people, and they joined Ron and Professor Lupin outside, where the former had already started scoffing marshmallows and a small fire was crackling warmly.

“Sun’s just gone down, Ariadne,” Lupin told her as she sat down and Ron handed her a skewer and offered the bag. Ariadne carefully plucked out a marshmallow and stabbed it through as Lupin shifted on the log he’d sat on, which had been dragged along the sand. “Oh, careful,” he said as she held it roughly over where she believed the fire was.

“Is it too close?” Ariadne asked quickly.

“A little…” Lupin murmured, before sitting up. “It’s on fire!” he barked, and Ariadne hurriedly pulled it back and started blowing on it heavily. Once Hermione had nodded that it was out, she stuffed it into her mouth and immediately started trying to blow through it to cool the hot marshmallow down as it burned her tongue. “Um, Professor,” she said through the mouthful. “Your um…” she said, pointing to him as she noticed the lycanthropic fungus in his magic ever so slightly grow and the man grimace. Professor Lupin nodded.

“It’s nearly er. Well,” Professor Lupin announced sheepishly, standing up. “Since I won’t be able to say this later… Thank you. All of you. It… it means a lot to me, and I cannot properly convey my gratitude for your standing up for me among all this.” The man smiled as he looked over them. “You really are the new Marauders.” Ariadne smirked, unable to keep a small laugh out of her breathing. “Now, er. I’ll be back. Nono, no. Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to see this part. I’ll be... back,” Lupin said, holding up a hand as Ariadne half stood. Leaving his cane, Professor Lupin strode purposefully away from the camp, and quickly disappeared into the trees and out of Ariadne’s sense.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Hermione asked, sadly.

“As much as he can be, I think. I don’t know what would be worse, becoming a mindless monster for a night and remembering it after, or being trapped in the body of one but fully yourself,” Ariadne replied thoughtfully, yawning. Much as it was obviously an immediate benefit for him to be taking the potion, it had to be disturbing.

“And he will be.. fully himself, right?” Ron asked. “He won’t be…”

“He’s taken his potion, I can sense the difference,” Ariadne assured him, skewering another marshmallow before losing it into the fire as she jumped, hearing the tortured scream of Professor Remus Lupin’s transformation beginning echo through the woods. Hermione covered her ears as the cries of pain began to change, deepening into gnarled howls as Ariadne grimaced.

“Bloody hell, that must hurt,” Ron mumbled. Tense quiet filled the woods as Lupin fell silent, and only a few minutes later, Ariadne faced up as she sensed the transformed core of Remus Lupin. Instead of the angry but small intrusions into his magic, the desaturated lycanthropy had almost replaced it, cordyceps-like tendrils extending outward and into the limbs of the transformed werewolf.

Ariadne was surprised that Professor Lupin remained somewhat humanoid as her glasses revealed his form to her - in fact, he seemed to only truly be significantly taller, although hunched, with gangly arms and legs tipped with clawed paws instead of hands and feet. His head was the most wolflike, however, even if it was poised on a fairly humanoid form, with pointed ears arranged dissonantly to the canine structure, as if pointed human ears had been attached.

One thing did, however, make Ariadne laugh. The hunched figure, wolflike and disturbing as he was, was carrying his dressing gown in his mouth, which she hadn’t exactly expected. Lupin tilted his head, huffing at her confusedly with his ears down a bit.

“Oh nonono, its-tht-ht--s-th-th-th-thththth-st-hth-the gown,” she hurriedly exclaimed, waving her arms in front of her face. Lupin’s ears shot back up as what escaped his maw was the closest thing to a snorting laugh his altered larynx could manage. Professor Lupin loped down the bank, alternating between upright and quadrupedal stances as comfort demanded, before he stood before them, leaning down and sniffing at them. As Ron leant back, clearly a little uncomfortable with it all, Lupin leant toward him in response, smelling him before rearing back and pawing at his own nose. The girls giggled as Ron hesitantly laughed, and Lupin, after letting out a panting laugh himself, draped his gown carefully over the log he’d been sitting on before his transformation, and then laid down beside Ariadne, putting his head on her lap. Awkwardly, Ariadne offered him a marshmallow.

Ariadne couldn’t help but laugh as Professor Lupin reacted like a dog that had been offered a tennis ball, lowering to the ground, his stubby tail wagging as his tongue lolled out and he panted eagerly. Giggling, Ariadne made sure his marshmallow was on a fresh skewer, knowing they had to minimize the possibility of his saliva infecting them, and held it out to him.

“Only  _ one _ though,” Ariadne said sternly. Lupin whined. “They’re bad for you, Professor! One.” Professor Lupin eagerly plucked the marshmallow off the stick with his tongue and lay back down, seeming to be savouring it as Ariadne made sure to put the skewer in the fire.

Professor Lupin, it seemed, didn’t mind the occasional pat on the head, as Ariadne occasionally offered it as a substitute for a hug as the night deepened. She was however, a little concerned to note that instead of the fuzz she’d expected, Lupin’s form was practically hairless. There were whisps of it atop his head, but as far as she could tell, the rest of his body was just leathery skin, almost like a hairless cat. Eventually, however, as she checked her watch, midnight had come, and the three retired into the tent to go to bed as the fire, Ariadne was told, burned down to embers. It seemed Hermione had noticed as well, as she turned to Ariadne from beside her in her sleeping bag.

“I don’t think he’s taking very good care of himself,” Hermione whispered. “You must have noticed he’s hairless right now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Ariadne whispered back, frowning. “I feel like he’s not supposed to be, is he?” Ron, it seemed, was not perturbed by Lupin’s lack of body hair as a wolf, nor by the discussions of the sisters as he was already fast asleep and snoring. Hermione shook her head slightly.

“No. In no depictions are werewolves hairless or  _ that  _ skinny,” Hermione replied. “I could see his ribs, he’s supposed to have a full coat of fur. It’d be thinner for summer but it shouldn’t just be gone. He’s not taking care of himself.” Ariadne grimaced.

“It’s only going to get worse when he leaves,” Ariadne mumbled sadly.

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed. “Good night, Ariadne,” she said, rolling over.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While it does end on a sad note, I do enjoy writing these sweet little chapters.


	106. Fetch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron suggests playing fetch as a joke, but Lupin thinks it might be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love me some wholesome Professor Lupin content, so have some more.

“Stop picking at it,” Ariadne chided Ron, as the boy fiddled with the edge of the plaster on the back of his right hand.

“It’s itchy,” Ron protested, even as he pulled his left hand away. It was dinnertime on Monday, the final night of the moon cycle for Lupin, and also annoyingly their Care of Magical Creatures exam under Professor Hagrid. Hagrid had had them cycling through the various creatures they’d studied in groups and performing various tasks - their group had started with Crups, wherein they were required to help bathe them. After the experience that had set Hermione nonverbal from the sensorily unpleasant work and the unpredictability of the Crups, their group had been allowed to move on to the fire salamanders, where they were tasked with keeping the salamander fire burning and feeding them pepper.

It was at this point that the group had been on track for a universally high mark. Until, that was, they reached the Hippogriff talon-clipping section and Ron failed to bow, earning himself a surprisingly shallow cut on the back of his hand. Buckbeak had been forgiving, at least, after Hagrid had given him a plaster and he’d corrected his etiquette error and bowed to the Hippogriff. Hermione had not done badly, but she’d been largely nonverbal since the exam. Ariadne had managed to achieve an Outstanding in comparison to Ron’s Acceptable and Hermione’s Exceeds Expectations. With the evening fast approaching, Ariadne admitted she was exhausted - studying for their Transfiguration exam the next week and attending Muggle Studies after had left her incredibly tired.

It didn’t promise to help that Quidditch Practice was to become daily after Wednesday’s session in preparation for the match against Slytherin. While she relished the assistance with her transition granted by the Time Turners, she planned to forgo their use next term, but she’d have to drop a subject.

“What’s the result?” Ariadne asked eagerly as Ron pulled a newspaper toward him. While it wasn’t Hermione’s forte, all three of them had been following the Quidditch World Cup closely, with the final in just over two months. “Or are they  _ still _ playing?!”

“Woah… Ireland won 4280 to 3920, Lynch caught the Snitch after the Peruvian Seeker fell asleep at two in the afternoon because they’d been playing for days,” Ron marvelled. Ariadne sat facing the boy, gaping at him. That was an  _ absurd _ score, no Hogwarts game had ever gone above triple digits and certainly never into the several thousands.

“Woah…” Hermione breathed. “Imagine if one of your games went that long, ‘Adne!”

“I don’t think it would take me  _ days _ to find a Snitch,” Ariadne scoffed as her mind was inverted by the arrival of dessert. “Eurgh. My Inner Eye’s a little better than Ron’s.”

“Shut up,” Ron exclaimed. “Just because I’m probably going to fail my Divination exam on Wednesday.” Hermione laughed, clearly glad to have dropped the subject as she got herself a large serving of ice cream. “Wish I’d dropped it like you did. When’s your Ancient Runes exam?”

“Next week,” Ariadne replied. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Oh yeah, can you help me study for that?” Kellah asked, leaning over. “I just can’t get the three headed snake one.”

“Sorry,” Hermione replied. “Camping with Professor Lupin, but it’s the last night of the cycle so maybe tomorrow?”

“Cool, yeah thanks.”

“Speaking of…” Ariadne mumbled, running a finger along her watch. “We should probably get going soon, don’t want to be late. We like to have a bit of time to chat before it happens,” she told Kellah, before hurriedly finishing off her own ice cream. As dessert wound down and Ariadne was glad to be free of the nauseating arrivals of food, the three made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower and retrieved the camping supplies.

“Tonight should be the easiest for him,” Hermione told them as they hurried downstairs, waiting for Ariadne to hesitantly reach the landing. “Last night of the cycle, but it’ll still be hard.” Ariadne nodded. Hermione was carrying an extra bedroll, to offset how hard it was for her to sleep on the uneven ground in the tent. Ironic, that it should be the one who  _ wasn’t  _ time travelling and exhausted who had the easiest time sleeping.

It was a lovely evening out, as far as Ariadne could tell. It was still relatively warm thanks to the summer heat, and birds flitted about trees, occasionally caught by her glasses with strange shadows projected across them by their wings. Even she could smell flowers, and she wondered how strong the smell would be for Professor Lupin. According to Hermione, the sunset was beautiful as they sat down at the bench and waited.

“Maybe we should do this for him again some time, if he wants. The contact’s been good for him, but I don’t know if he’ll have access to Wolfsbane very often,” Hermione mused, swinging her feet. “Besides, the fresh air’s done me some good, I must say.”

“Hmm,” Ariadne nodded, taking a deep breath. Ron smiled as Professor Lupin made his way over, a little quicker than usual and without his cane.

“Good evening, you three,” Professor Lupin said cheerfully as he stepped over.

“Someone’s feeling a lot better?” Ariadne said pointedly as she stood, smiling. Lupin snorted.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to even slightly look forward to these nights, Ariadne. Forgive me for wanting to spend time with people who understand,” he chuckled, before sighing. “Last one before it’s back to how it usually goes.”

“You could always owl us during the holidays,” Hermione told him. “So long as you have Wolfsbane, obviously,” she added, quickly.

“Yeah, I’d be game,” Ron said as Ariadne beamed at Lupin.

“Hmm. I’ll think about it, but it depends on my situation. I can’t operate on the assumption I will have access, and obviously I’d never risk infecting any of you,” Lupin said. “But I’ll think about it.”

“Are… are you enjoying this, Professor?” Ariadne asked gently. Lupin nodded.

“As much as one can, yes.” Lupin groaned slightly, clutching his leg at what was probably a small shooting pain. “It’s nice to have company, one must acknowledge a degree of a, er, pack instinct.” The man had begun actually discussing elements of his lycanthropy with them, instead of constantly avoiding directly mentioning it, but to Ariadne’s knowledge, he’d still never actually said the word “werewolf” to them.

“Should have brought a ball to throw!” Ron exclaimed, chuckling. “I’m kidding, Professor,” he added quickly. Seemingly not as offended as Ron had suddenly realized he might have been, Professor Lupin laughed.

“Ha. You joke, but you know what? Ariadne, mind if I borrow your wand?” Lupin asked, holding his arm out. Bemused by the suggestion, Ariadne handed him the golden rod of her wand. Professor Lupin flicked it, a suddenly existing green cloud forming into a sphere with a pop, before handing her back her wand and tossing the ball, which quickly became mundane. “Might be fun,” he said, handing it to Ron with a smirk.

“Is it nice, to be treated more like a pet dog?” Hermione asked curiously. Lupin smiled.

“It’s nice not to be treated like a monster,” Professor Lupin corrected her, as they strayed off the main path and down the familiar way to the beachside spot.

“Professor?” Ariadne piped up as she carefully stepped over a root, struggling to keep up with him. “I was studying for the Transfiguration exam next week, and I was wondering; can lycanthropes become Animagi?”

“No, not really,” Lupin replied. “Transfigurations don’t really set on people like me, you’d have a hard time performing even a small one let alone a full-body transfiguration.” Ariadne nodded, humming understandingly. “If I could, I might have done it with the others,” he sighed.

“I wonder if I could become an Animagus,” Ariadne mused. Lupin snorted.

“Knowing you, you’d have it done by the time exams are over,” he laughed as he began down the bank. “What form do you think you’d want?” he asked. Ariadne frowned, thinking about it. She’d never actually thought about becoming an Animagus, but now that she’d brought it up, she had to admit the idea sounded appealing.

“Maybe a fox, like my Patronus?” Ariadne mused. “They seem kinda cute.”

“Your Patronus would likely change to your Animagus form, actually,” Lupin told her. “James’ was originally a hare before he became an Animagus and it became a stag. Lily’s became a doe to match, after they got married.” Ariadne thought about it as they set up the tent. A fox was perhaps an easy choice, but she had to admit its nimbleness was appealing. A cat came to mind, just like Professor McGonagall, which was also interesting. A dog seemed a little too close to the Marauders, Sirius having chosen one, and she wanted to choose something not like them if she did decide to become one. Perhaps a bird of some description? She enjoyed flying, at least on a broom. It was while she was speculating on the capabilities of various animals including cats, pigeons and a few insects, when Professor Lupin got her attention.

“Ariadne, Hermione. Ron,” He called gently, sitting down. “I thought I should say this before, so we’re not all groggy and tired in the morning instead. I uh, I must admit, this almost makes me reconsider my resignation. But, as I’ll be leaving tomorrow, I thought I should say goodbye, for now. I shan’t be likely to see you all again for a while, and I will miss you all. You all have the makings of great witches and a great wizard, I see in you amazing potential,” he told them. “I have watched you all learn so very much, and make such amazing strides. All three of you will do very well, I am sure of it, and I am proud to have helped light that flame.” Smiling, with a tear in her eye, Ariadne stepped forward with her arms out.

“You’re a great wizard too, Professor Lupin,” Ariadne mumbled into his ear as he accepted it. “You’re the best teacher we’ve ever had.”

“Not your Professor anymore, you know,” Lupin told her as she let go. “You’re very welcome to just call me Remus. Or Mister Lupin, if that’s easier for you.”

“All right, Remus,” Ariadne said after a pause and Hermione took her place hugging him. “But you’ll always be a Professor to me.” Remus smiled.

“If you say so. All right, well, unless you want a hug as well, Ronald, I’d best get moving.” Ron, briefly, took up the offer of a hug. “All right. You know the routine,” Remus said as he began his way back up the bank, groaning at his joints and leaning on a tree before slipping into the woods.

“So. We’re not really gonna see him much again,” Ron said. “Not after the morning.” Ariadne shook her head.

“I hope we do see him again. He’s nice, and I suppose he’ll want to hang out with Sirius,” Ariadne replied. “We’ll probably stay in occasional contact, at least,” she said, pointing between herself and Hermione.

“Yes, once Sirius is out of prison. That’s not that far away, is it?” Hermione said, jumping as they heard Lupin yell in pain. “Ugh. That creeps me out every time.”

“August sixth, yeah. Only two months before Sirius is free again,” Ariadne said, trying to ignore the pain she knew they could do nothing about as it became strangled roars. “I hope he enjoys the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Are you kidding, of course he will!” Ron cried. “It’s the world cup!”

“I just worry that he’ll be agoraphobic, or at least afraid of crowds, after thirteen years in Azkaban,” Hermione said. “He hasn’t seen a crowd in nearly fifteen years, and it’s the biggest party the wizarding world ever throws.”

“Speaking of throwing,” Ron said, standing up as Remus crested the hill, a wolf once more. Lupin’s tongue lolled out as he excitedly loped down the bank, before poising himself before Ron as Ron raised the ball he’d conjured. “All right, Remus. Fetch!” he yelled, chucking the ball a ways down the beach as Lupin became a blur, chasing it. Ariadne giggled as Remus almost immediately came back, depositing the ball on the ground in front of Ron and panting excitedly.

“I think we should have brought one of those throwers,” Hermione said as Ron picked it up again and bounced it in his hand before chucking it off into the trees behind Lupin where it ping-ponged between trees and off over the bank as the werewolf ran over the leafy hill and disappeared.

“Yeah, I dunno if I can throw it far enough for him to get much out of it,” Ron replied as Lupin skidded to a halt in front of Ariadne, depositing the ball before her. Ariadne pulled out her wand, humming thoughtfully.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” Ariadne murmured, causing the ball to hover on the end of the warbling yellow arm as Remus immediately eyed it, excited. With a flick of her wrist, Ariadne sent it hurtling in the other direction from Ron, as fast as she could, before letting the spell cease and its momentum carry it pinging into the forest noisily. Again, Lupin barked and hurtled after it, leaving a cloud of dry leaves in his wake. Leaping to catch it, Lupin missed with his mouth and rolled onto the ground, pawing at it as it bounced around before catching it in his maw and running back, this time to Hermione.

“Um..” Hermione mumbled, leaning down to pick up the offered ball before immediately dropping it. “Eww! No, you had the right idea, ‘Adne, have another go,” she cried, wringing her hands before she turned to the lakeside, kneeling down to dip her hands in it and wash them. Ariadne was all too happy to once again cast the simple levitation spell and send the ball flying far above Ron’s head and almost into the lake, smiling gleefully as Lupin seemed not to tire of the activity as yet and galloped after it.

Eventually, after all three had thrown the ball what must have been two dozen times each, Lupin tired of the game, and laid down beside the tent, his tail wagging gently in contentment as Ariadne sat down by him and scratched his ears. With Wolfsbane, Lupin didn’t seem particularly monstrous to her at all.

Just a big hairless puppy with a man’s mind, as his ears perked up and he stared at a bird that was flitting between tree branches, before the three needed to go to sleep once more, sleeping under the moon with Remus Lupin outside.

\--

The next few days, Ariadne was quiet as she melancholically noted the absence of Professor Lupin at the head table. The lessons that would have been Defence Against the Dark Arts with him were instead handled by substitute teachers, Flitwick and then McGonagall - largely just revision. Care of Magical Creatures was relaxing, as the class laid about on the sunny grounds while Professor Hagrid finished compiling their marks and handed them their official rundowns. Ariadne had received very few negative comments, only really one about how eye contact helped with Hippogriffs but that that also wasn’t something she could do anyway so not to worry about it. Hermione was urged to engage more, and that she’d been doing well but that she did slightly need to actually touch the animals she was working with, while Ron’s cut was noted with some sternness as it had resulted from forgetting the basic rules of Hippogriff-handling.

Ariadne grimaced as she read the section in  _ The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts _ on werewolves. It was no wonder Professor Lupin had been concerned by Professor Snape’s brazen coverage of it. Identification, avoidance and destruction were all key focuses, and it was clearly only the quality of the rest of the book that had made Lupin choose it. At no point did the author care to mention that werewolves were people, with thoughts, feelings and pains like everyone else, ostracized for a condition they had little to no control over. Beasts, monsters, creatures, that was all they were according to the book. Its.

The grim contemplations of whether Professor Lupin would cope after his departure dwelled within her mind for the next few days, as she sat down for lunch on Wednesday, idly poking at her plate with her fork. They’d just come back from Ancient Runes, and were waiting for Ron to get back from Divination.

“You okay, Ariadne?” Hermione asked gently.

“Yeah, I just… I’m worried for Remus, you know?” Ariadne replied. “He doesn’t even know if he’ll have Wolfsbane.”

“He’ll be okay,” Neville, who’d finished his Divination exam early, told her from the other side of the table. “He’s had some bad moons before, but he’s always gotten through them. Remus is a tough man.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Ariadne mumbled, taking a bite of food.

“Ugh, that sucked!” Ron groaned as he stepped into the Hall, flanked by Seamus. “Did you even see  _ anything  _ in that crystal ball??”

“Nothing,” Seamus replied. “Just clouds.”

“Hey Ariadne, Hermione!” Ron called, slipping onto the bench with a groan. “How was Runes?”

“Not bad,” Hermione replied. “Divination?” she asked cordially.

“Don’t even ask,” Ron said, rubbing his temple. “Didn’t get much in the tea leaves section, just a sun and moon which is ‘great change,’ and then  _ nothing _ in the ball. Definitely failed.”

“Feeling okay?” Hermione asked, frowning at him.

“Yeah, just a headache. Think I caught a cold camping,” Ron replied. “It’s not that bad.”

“Hey Ron!” Dean called from down the table. “How’d your exam go?”

Ariadne froze as Ron turned around, facing away from her and revealing the back of his magical core as he stood up to call his answer back to Dean. Her heart running cold and her arms going numb, she tapped Ron on the back.  _ No... _

“Ro-roror-r-r-r-r-r-rr-rR-Ron-Ron?” she asked quietly, her face losing any and all blood.

“Hmm?”

“Come-coc-c-c-c-com-come-co-c-c-c-c-co-come with… with me please,” she said heavily. “Now. You too Hermione.” She was out of her seat already, virtually pulling Ron away as she hurried toward the exit of the Great Hall, searching for a quiet spot.

She hoped she had imagined it, but sensing back at him, there was no mistaking it. Ushering Ron behind a statue, her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed him to sit down.

“What is it, Ariadne?” Ron asked, concerned. “You look scared.”

“Ron… I don’t mean to alarm you… but there’s bits of blue in your core,” Ariadne told him quietly, checking around them as Hermione frowned.

“Yeah, so? Isn’t my magic blue and yellow to you?” Ron asked, confused. Ariadne shook her head.

“Not-nn-not that blue,” she replied. “Different blue.” She felt sick. “ _ Lupin’s _ blue.” Ron’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open.

“What are you saying, Ariadne?” Hermione asked, stepping closer. “Are you saying-”

“I’m saying we need to go to Madam Pomfrey  _ right now _ ,” Ariadne declared, expressionless, pulling Ron by the sleeve and almost running toward the grand staircase.

“What are you talking about, Ariadne?!” Ron exclaimed, his magic starting to panic as he followed quickly. “What is it?!”

“I...I-II-I-II-I-I--I-I-I-I-I-I-I hope I’m wrong,” she simply replied as they reached the stairs.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNN  
> Welcome to what I planned in the shower after publishing Chapter 105 this morning. And so the planning document grows ever longer (it’s like 30,000 words now)


	107. Accidents and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne drags Ron to Madam Pomfrey, terrified of what she just sensed taking root in his magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Traumatic medical news.  
> I was going to wait because I’ll be busy today and this WOULD have been tomorrow for you, but I’m too impatient so it’s now 2:00am and I just spent 2 and a half hours writing this.

“No no no no nonononononononononono!” Ariadne cried as she pulled a bewildered Ron and a scared Hermione after her, turning the corner to the third floor as her mind raced.

It couldn’t be.

But what else could the bright blue flecks taking root in Ron’s magical core be?! She’d only seen that once before, even if this was much smaller, and that was in Remus Lupin.

“Ariadne, slow down!” Ron almost yelled, pulling on her arm as she dragged him around the staircase landing and tripped on a stair. “You’ll hurt yourself.  _ What _ are you talking about?!”

“I-II-II-I-I-I-II-I-I-I-I-II…” Ariadne spluttered, incapable of speech, and wrung her arms ahead of her. “It’s… we… Madam Pomfrey, _ now _ .” Hermione stopped Ariadne, and leant over to Ron.

“Ron, what Ariadne is saying is that she believes you’ve been infected with lycanthropy,” Hermione said to him quietly as Ron jumped and inhaled sharply.

“What…?” Ron asked quickly. “But.. how could… what?!” he spluttered, fear building on his face.

“I-I dunno!” Ariadne exclaimed, hurrying up the stairs and prompting Ron to follow. “Come on!”

“Are you saying I’m a fucking werewolf?!” Ron exclaimed incredulously, as Ariadne froze, her heart hammering and threatening to burst out of her chest, her arms completely numb. “But he never bit me!”

“Shush!” Ariadne almost shouted. “I… hhhhhh… I hope I’m wrong. But if I’m-if I’m not… we can’t tell anyone,” she struggled to tell him, quietening as Ron started shaking.

“No…” Ron muttered. “Nonono, I can’t be. He never bit me! I can’t be a werewolf!” he half-cried desperately. “This can’t be happening.” Ariadne had to admit she shared that last sentiment. Not only had Lupin never bit him, but the sudden emotions were overwhelming her after a fairly lax morning followed by the tensest she’d been in years. This couldn’t be happening.

“Please, just come on! The sooner we know, the better!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling Ron by the arm as he slowed, his face going slack.

“Madam Pomfrey!!” Ariadne shouted desperately as they reached the Hospital Wing, as Ron shook in fear behind her and Hermione rubbed his back reassuringly. “Madam Pomfrey!!!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m here, what is it?!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, hurriedly running out from a curtained section. “Has Mister Weasley hurt himself somehow?”

“No!” Ariadne exclaimed, ushering him forward. “I--I-I-I-I-I-II-I-I… We… I… I can…” she spluttered, before Hermione took her arm and stopped her.

“Ariadne believes she has sensed that Ron has been infected with lycanthropy,” Hermione said, clearly scared but at least able to talk unlike Ariadne. Ron jumped, as he looked about in a panic. Madam Pomfrey immediately reacted, drawing back, her face becoming the definition of shock as she pulled out her wand and flicked it, slamming the doors behind them with a crash.

“ _ WHAT _ HAPPENED?!” Madam Pomfrey almost yelled as she hurriedly took Ron by the shoulders and pulled him toward a bed.

“We don’t know, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione told her. It seemed Hermione’s response to this terror was to be methodical. “All I know is as soon as Ariadne sensed him come into the Great Hall, she freaked out and said she could see the same thing in Ron’s magic as in Professor Lupin’s.”

“Were you in contact with Professor Lupin over the full moon?” Pomfrey asked intently as she quickly brought over a tray of magical devices on a trolley.

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey, we were camping with him. But he didn’t bite Ron, or any of us!” Hermione replied as Ron was pushed onto the bed with some force, whimpering.

“Am I a… a werewolf, Madam Pomfrey?!” Ron asked desperately, sitting up before Madam Pomfrey pushed him down again.

“That’s what I’m about to try to find out, Mister Weasley, please try to remain calm,” Madam Pomfrey told him, picking up a red-glowing implement. 

“Oh god…” Ron quavered as he lay on the bed, crying. Ariadne grimaced, and stood beside him, holding his hand as the boy stared at her, terrified.

“Normally, a bite mark would be a dead giveaway, but if you weren’t bitten…” Madam Pomfrey said, frowning intently and holding the implement over him, a red wave bathing the boy as she ran it down his body. Exhaling darkly, Pomfrey picked up another device, this one orange, and held it to Ron’s chest while closing her eyes, his entire body lighting up orange underneath the blue covering of Ariadne’s glasses’ magic. Madam Pomfrey sighed, taking it back and setting it back down.

“What is it?” Ron asked immediately, seeing her expression as Ariadne internally stared at Madam Pomfrey while Hermione wrung her hands at the end of the bed Ron had been pushed onto. Madam Pomfrey held her wand to her throat, creating a purple glare.

“Professor Dumbledore, I require your immediate presence in the Hospital Wing at once. This takes precedence over all other matters,” Madam Pomfrey murmured as Ron gasped, his mouth hanging open as his eyes got even wider.

“Is it- Am I?! Please no...” Ron exclaimed, his magical core giving no signs of quietening down as the boy got even more scared. Madam Pomfrey touched his shoulder and nodded grimly. “NO!” Ron yelled. Sitting up, Ron immediately collapsed into the arms of Ariadne, who leaned down to embrace the boy.

Ron was a werewolf. How, Ariadne had no clue. He hadn’t been bitten, but how else could this have happened? It  _ had _ to have been during the camping trips, that was certain given the timing. The boy bawling in her arms and soaking her robes with his tears was a werewolf. Ron screamed in anguish, filling the Hospital Wing with the echoes of what Ariadne hated to think of as a howl of rage.

“Ron…” Hermione murmured, stepping over and adding herself to the tight hug, both girls enveloping Ron. “I’m so sorry, Ron.”

Seconds later, the doors slammed open and shut again as Professor Dumbledore blazed into the room, an alarmed expression on his face.

“You sent for me, a matter of urgency?” he wasted no time in asking, seeing Ron sobbing by the bed and immediately striding over to him. “Mister Weasley is injured?”

“Not injured, Professor Dumbledore,” Madam Pomfrey replied seriously. “Ariadne here just brought him to me with a rather worrying diagnosis based on her magic sense, one I have just confirmed. It seems Mister Weasley has become a werewolf, means unknown. He was not bitten, but he and the Grangers were camping with Professor Lupin during the full moon period, one presumes to comfort him.” Ron’s sobbing intensified as Hermione detached from him, crying herself. Dumbledore’s face became somehow even more grim, as he pressed his wand to his throat.

“Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore whispered. “Please summon Arthur and Molly Weasley to the castle and Hospital Wing immediately, regarding their son Ronald. Professor Flitwick, if you could please locate and summon Remus back to Hogwarts as soon as physically possible, and bring him to the Hospital Wing.” He took his wand off his throat and the purple sheen faded. “Misses Granger, you are both excused from your classes this afternoon.” Dumbledore gently guided Ariadne away from Ron, leaving her to stand, tears falling from her eyes as Hermione took her arm and the Professor knelt before the sobbing boy. “Ronald. I am so sorry that this has happened to you, but I assure you, you will be taken care of.”

“You’re… you’re going to send me away, aren’t you, sir?” Ron cried, not even looking at him. Dumbledore took his chin and raised his head.

“Never, dear boy. Measures were taken to allow Remus Lupin’s attendance from an even younger age, the same will be extended to you,” Professor Dumbledore assured him. 

“We- we- we can’t… we can’t afford-” Ron spluttered, shaking his head as he kept crying. “I’ll… I’ll be…”

“No,” Dumbledore said strongly. “No. I am well aware of the financial difficulties your family experience, and Hogwarts will provide you with the necessary potions for as long as you attend free of charge, as well as during your holidays, Ronald.” Dumbledore stood back up. “Poppy, I suspect a calming draught would be in order? This will not be a pleasant discussion.”

“Indeed,” Madam Pomfrey replied, hurrying off to a cabinet as Professor McGonagall arrived, looking almost spooked as Molly Weasley trailed behind her, terrified.

“Arthur is at work, Professor Dumbledore, and can’t be reached,” McGonagall reported curtly. “I have taken the liberty of sending him an owl that he should come as soon as possible.” Dumbledore nodded as Ron downed the calming draught hesitantly and Molly ran past McGonagall.

“RON!” Molly screamed, almost bowling the boy over in a hug. “WHAT HAPPENED?!”

“Mrs. Weasley, I’m going to need you to sit down,” Madam Pomfrey said gently, offering her a seat as Professor Flitwick hurried in the door with Professor Lupin in tow.

“What’s this about, Professor?” Lupin asked Dumbledore as he closed the door behind him.

“Excuse us, Filius,” Dumbledore said darkly, ushering Lupin toward the bed where Ron was sitting, his sobs abating thanks to the calming draught. “Sit down, Remus.” Remus complied, looking between everyone with fear on his face. “Poppy.”

“Mrs. Weasley, I have the distinct displeasure of having to inform you that your son is a werewolf,” Pomfrey said grimly, sitting down in front of Molly.

“ **_WHAT?!_ ** ” Molly bellowed in unison with Remus, immediately shaking in fear and rage as she looked to Ron, who grimaced and nodded. “YOU!” she screamed at Remus. “YOU DID THIS!”

“I didn’t know about this until the same second you did, Molly!” Remus yelled, incredulous fear filling his face as he stared at Ron.

“YOU FUCKING BIT HIM!” Molly screamed, before Madam Pomfrey had to hold her back from attacking Lupin as she screamed in fury and Ron leant forward, almost seeming like he wanted to help.

“NO!” Lupin bellowed, throwing himself back from the enraged woman in his chair. “I never bit ANYONE, I have no idea how this happened!”

“Excuse me,” Professor Dumbledore said loudly and resolutely. “Ronald was not bitten, which we know because he bears no bite mark. However, he and the Grangers here were camping with Remus during the full moon period to act as emotional support and this afternoon, only half an hour ago, Ariadne here noticed its manifestation in Ronald’s magic. As he was and still is on Wolfsbane Potion, Mister Lupin is harmless. However. Is there anything you can think of that could possibly have led to Ronald’s infection?”

“No!” Remus exclaimed. “We mostly just sat around a campfire!”

“Yes, except for the last night when we played fetch,” Hermione told him. “But his teeth never went near us!” Ariadne’s face went white as she remembered Monday night.

“Ron, your cut...” she said suddenly as everyone turned to face her. 

“ _ WHAT?! _ You didn’t...” Remus almost shouted, before mumbling.

“ _ Ron, your cut! _ Take the plaster off. NOW!” Ariadne yelled, stepping forward as Ron suddenly looked at the back of his hand. Fumbling as Ariadne loomed over his side, Ron tore the plaster off, met with a defeated groan about them and the tiny brilliant glimmer of a set-in lycanthropic infection.

All except for Lupin, who roared in rage and stood out of his chair, holding his head in his hands.

“Ron, if I had known you had a cut on your hand I would never have let you come out there with us!” Lupin yelled. “What part of minimize salival- GAAAAAAA!” Lupin bellowed, punching a pillar and reeling his fist back in pain. “This was EXACTLY what I didn’t want to happen!”

“This is your fault!” Molly yelled. “If you had fucking checked-”

“MUM!” Ron yelled suddenly, silencing them. “Mum. It’s not his fault.”

“Yes it i-”

“NO, it isn’t. It’s my fault, for being stupid and going out there with him knowing I had a cut on my hand,” Ron told her, disturbingly calmly. “I’m a werewolf now. There’s no point… pointing fingers when it was my own stupid fault. Question is, what do we do about it?”

“It’s  _ incurable _ , Ron!” Lupin shouted. “There’s nothing you  _ can _ do about it! This is with you for life now!” he added, almost crying himself. “I’m so sorry, Ron,” Lupin sobbed, sitting down beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

“All we can do is prepare for his first full moon,” Madam Pomfrey said quietly. “It’s a good thing Ariadne here noticed this, otherwise  _ then _ is when you would have found out, and that would not have been a pleasant night for anyone involved.”

“It’s just after term ends,” Lupin told them, looking away. “July second to seventh, thank Merlin term ends a little early this year.” Professor Dumbledore nodded, and again pressed his wand to his throat.

“Professor Snape, be advised that your services regarding the continual production of Wolfsbane Potion will still be required, but for a student whose identity shall remain anonymous,” he murmured. At least Snape wouldn’t know, which was a relief to Ariadne; the man was her prime suspect for outing Lupin. “We will require two batches, one for Mister Lupin, and one for the student, ready on my desk before the second of July.” Lupin frowned as Dumbledore nodded to himself.

“Professor?”

“Remus, I would like you to be present for Ronald’s first full moon, if that is to his liking. It will be a traumatic experience for him, and it would be best for him to have a guide, I should expect.” Ron nodded vigorously, sniffling as Ariadne suspected the calming draught was wearing off. She moved slowly to sit beside him on the bed, holding his hand in her lap.

“Hogwarts will be providing his potions then?” Molly asked concernedly, the magic on her face smudging as she cried too. “We can’t afford them in any way, that’s more than we earn in several months,” she wailed.

“Of course, Mrs. Weasley,” Dumbledore assured her as Ron’s grip on Ariadne’s arm tightened and Hermione came over as well. “Every measure possible will be taken to ensure Ronald can continue his studies and hopefully any career ambitions he may have unimpeded. The Shrieking Shack is available to him as a safe space, as it was for Remus, and he has permission to transform in the Forbidden Forest, so long as he has the supervision of Hagrid.” Dumbledore thought for a second. “Miss Granger, do you still have that recording device of yours?”

“Yes, Professor. Why do you ask?” Ariadne replied, frowning.

“Would you at all mind looking into helping Ron acquire one? It occurs to me that should he need to miss lessons, having them recorded would be a great help for him.” Ariadne nodded, putting it on her mental to-do list.

“You can put some music on it too,” Ariadne whispered, squeezing his hand and smiling at him. Ron nodded, before sitting up again.

“I’m sorry, Remus,” Ron mumbled, grimacing. “I shouldn’t have come with you with this,” he said, holding up his right hand.

“What’s done is done,” Remus replied quietly. “I will do everything I can to prepare you for this, but this isn’t going to be easy.”

“This is a nightmare… first Ginny, now this...” Molly mumbled. “Thank you, Ariadne. For giving us some warning,” she said. Ariadne nodded, letting Molly come by and hug her son as she wailed. Pomfrey stepped forward to Ariadne and Hermione, ushering them away slightly.

“I would like at least one of you to please stay with him this afternoon,” Madam Pomfrey whispered. “He may be under a calming draught, but it will wear off and he will be distraught. He’ll need you. I happen to know you can both catch up with your classes, if you need to, so…”

“We’ll stay, and then go to our afternoon classes,” Hermione whispered back, as Ariadne noticed Ron frown behind them. Pomfrey nodded, and let them go back.

“It’s okay, mum,” Ron mumbled to Molly. “I’ll be okay, or… close to.” The boy chuckled. “I’ll just always know what you’re cooking, is all.” Molly resisted a laugh. “Remus can smell really well, I probably will too.” Ron frowned. “Calming draughts feel weird.”

“Speaking of your cooking, Molly if I could speak with you?” Remus said gently, his face crestfallen. “I’ll need to explain his new dietary requirements, as well as helping figure out where he can safely change.” Molly sighed and followed him from the Hospital Wing, sniffling reluctantly, and Ariadne resumed her position by Ron. “The rarer the meat, the better, and plenty of it,” Lupin said as Ariadne lost earshot.

“We really are the new Marauders, huh?” Ron said. “We’ve got a werewolf. Now all we need is for you two and Ginny to become animagi.” Ariadne sniffed a tiny laugh, smiling at him, knowing the humour wouldn’t last as she noticed more tiny specks of the lycanthropic fungus appearing slowly in his core as it gradually set in properly.

“You’re going to be okay, Ron,” Ariadne said quietly. “We’re going to help you through this.” Ron smiled and rubbed her arm.

“Do you, um, do you want us to be there?” Hermione asked. “When you… when you change?” Ron frowned.

“I… I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” Ron replied, grimacing. “Merlin, I’m… I’m a werewolf now. I’m going to transform every full moon. Oh man, that sounded like it hurts really bad.”

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied. “Yeah, it will.”

“ _ Great change _ indeed, thanks Divination,” Ron said. “Awooo,” he added wistfully, before grimacing. After Dumbledore promised to show Ron how to access the Shrieking Shack should he need to, they were left alone with their friend, and his mother who stayed for a while before Arthur arrived and was horrified by the news as Ron’s calming draught wore off and he screamed in terror and profound sadness as Ariadne and Hermione held him, crying alongside him as Ariadne contemplated the time.

One month. One month, and Ron would be forced to become a wolf. His bones would split, his skin would tear and his fingernails would become claws, as the full moon rose. And it would happen every month for the rest of the boy’s life. The process would kill him, in the end.

Ronald Weasley was a werewolf, and Ariadne Granger couldn’t help but feel it was her fault for bringing them camping in the first place.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so yet another small butterfly effect has a gigantic ripple.


	108. Snakes Underfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite all that has changed, Ariadne still has to worry about a certain Quidditch match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ye gods how enjoyable it can be to have a werewolf among the main characters. I’m gonna have fun with our new furry-friended Ron.

“Are you _sure_ you don’t want us to become Animagi?” Ariadne hissed as they slipped down the staircase into the common room, her Quidditch robes dragging on the stairs behind her. “Remus says it helped, I’m sure Professor McGonagall would even help us.”

“I don’t know, Ariadne!” Ron replied, exasperatedly. “I haven’t even _told_ Ginny yet, just… just give me a few cycles, and I’ll figure it out, okay?” he whispered, shuddering slightly. It was Saturday, a week and a half since that horrible day at the Hospital Wing, and despite the horror Ron was going through, life went on.

Ron hadn’t done well in many of the exams he’d already taken, with only Charms and Potions left. He’d felt nauseous in Herbology, which he’d later attributed to the smell - scents which neither Ariadne nor Hermione had picked up on - and he’d been distracted in most every other class. Even Divination, where he’d already passed narrowly, he’d languished in, muttering darkly about ‘great change’ as he got back. Ariadne noted with increasing worry the brilliant blue lycanthropic fungus that had, over the days, taken full root in Ron’s magic.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, he’d excelled in, receiving an Outstanding grade to his surprise despite Professor Snape’s callous marking, higher even than Ariadne and Hermione’s Exceeds Expectations. Before his departure, Professor Lupin had set up an obstacle course of sorts in the grounds, which explained what he’d been doing with the Boggart their second time trying the Patronus Charm.

His newly developing wolven senses had afforded Ron what could have been considered an unfair advantage, as he had _smelled_ the Grindylow in the pond and pounced on it before anyone watching had even been able to see it. Ariadne was certain he’d broken the Grindylow’s _fingers_ instead of just broken its grip, as Malfoy had had little trouble with it, nor had anyone else going after Ron. Hermione had however laughed and whispered to Ariadne that Ron wasn’t swimming properly, he’d adopted a doggy-paddle. Ariadne, having gone before Ron and after Hermione, hadn’t done well on those sections, due to the invisible water and lack of experience swimming, but she had eventually broken the grip of the Grindylow and cast an angry stunner at it. This was fortuitous, as later in the course, Ariadne had had to face a Boggart - instead of casting _Riddikulus_ at it, Ariadne conjured a Patronus in the expectation that it would both be useful to restrain the soul-sucking Dementor Boggart as she forced it back into its case, and that it would get her a higher grade, especially as it was, to her surprise, a corporeal one, as the cackling fox leapt around the ‘Dementor’.

Upon reading her marks, she found that this was _not_ the case; Professor Snape had marked her down for incorrect spell usage, but she had not lost any marks due to the compensation of the stunning spell, a spell slightly above the third year level.

“When _are_ you going to tell them?” Ariadne asked quietly. “They live with you, hiding it isn’t going to work.” Ron sighed, he’d at least been feeling better physically, now it was the new moon, but mentally, Ariadne knew the boy was being crushed under the weight of events.

“On the train, or something, or when we get home,” Ron replied glumly. “You’ve got a Quidditch match today, focus on that.”

“Okay, but you’re my best friend. I’m not letting this happen without helping you,” Ariadne relented, as they collected Hermione and made their way down to breakfast. Even Ron couldn’t maintain his downtrodden demeanor as the Hall was filled with cheer, for the Quidditch match that was to break up the horror of exams. Ariadne had tried to sleep as much as she could, but had found herself awake at two in the morning, reading up on the process of becoming an Animagus. She was used to it, however, and the exhaustion only really blended together with the rest of that year-long term as she sat down at the table with the rest of the team and Ron went and sat with Hermione further down the table.

“There’s the lady of the hour!” Wood exclaimed, taking her arm emphatically, their armguards hitting each other. “Sit down, sit down.”

“Morning all,” Ariadne said warmly to the team, taking particular note of the twins beside her and unable to help remembering that they had no idea yet. No, she had to concentrate on the game.

“Now remember,” Wood said to her as she started scoffing down breakfast. “Slytherin lead us by two hundred points, we have to win by two hundred and ten or more. That means you can’t catch the Snitch until we’re-”

“Ahead by sixty points, I know,” Ariadne said through a mouthful of sugarless cereal. “And I need to stop Malfoy from getting it,” she added, pre-empting what Wood had nailed into her head a dozen times over.

“Yep. And that means?” Wood said, turning to the twins, who grinned.

“Malfoy’s our target, second is Flint,” they replied in unison. “Our pleasure.” Wood laughed, before sighing.

“This is my last match with you all,” Oliver said whimsically. Ariadne smiled and held up her glass of orange juice.

“To Oliver,” Ariadne declared. “Best Gryffindor team captain in history,” she said, as the rest of the team followed.

“Hear hear!” Angelina cried, chugging juice as Oliver presumably blushed and buried his face in his hands. “We’ll miss ya, woody Wood Wood!” Wood smiled, holding up his own glass.

“To Ariadne Granger. The best damn Seeker I’ve ever known, truly the White Eyed Wonder,” Wood declared as Ariadne’s cheeks went pink. “To Fred and George. Maybe not the most savage Beaters I’ve met, but certainly eager to break some Slytherin noses. To Angelina, Katie and Alicia. I don’t think I’ve seen a better set of Chasers yet.” Wood cleared his throat. “And to this team. The best team Gryffindor has had in _decades_!”

“Yeah!” Ariadne cried in unison with the team, punching the air, and cheers filtered down the Gryffindor table in earnest. There were even yells of support from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables - while Gryffindor may have beaten out both teams, neither wanted Slytherin to win. After losing the Quidditch Cup every year for nearly a decade, Gryffindor had an underdog spirit to it. Slytherin, obviously, booed, but got drowned out.

“Now let’s go show Slytherin what we can do!” Wood yelled, standing up and leading them from the Hall. Hermione and Ginny leapt to follow the almost running team, as Ron practically inhaled a final sausage in one go and jogged after them, quickly catching up.

“Eurgh,” Ron groaned as he strode alongside Hermione and Ariadne as Ariadne grabbed her broom from the shelf they’d mounted them on in the hallway. “You’re gonna do great, Ariadne!”

“Thanks!” Ariadne almost yelled.

“You okay, Ron?” Hermione asked. “You hardly chewed _anything_.”

“I was hungry!” Ron protested as his stomach grumbled. “Still am. I just.. Ugh.. I just feel a bit…”

“Sick?” Hermione asked smartly. Ron nodded, rubbing his stomach.

“What did you eat?” Ariadne asked, slowing a tad to get a small distance from the team. “Go on, Ginny.”

“Just some sausages and cereal!” Ron protested.

“What’s wrong?” Ginny asked, frowning. “Is Ron okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine, go save a seat,” Ariadne assured her, trying to make sure she didn’t force Ron to reveal his condition to Ginny in a hallway. Ginny hesitantly left, frowning as she looked back to Ariadne, and waved. “What did you drink?”

“Chocolate milk, why?” Ron replied. Ariadne groaned, stopping and turning to the boy. “What?” he asked as Hermione nodded.

“Ron. You’re a werewolf, you can’t eat chocolate!” Ariadne hissed under her breath, knowing he could hear her.

“Aww come on, I thought that would be okay?!” Ron exclaimed. Ariadne shook her head.

“You’re bloody lucky you aren’t _lactose intolerant_ now,” she said. “Go see Madam Pomfrey. Congratulations on poisoning yourself,” Ariadne told him, pushing him by the arm toward the stairs.

“Ugh. Why didn’t you stop me, Hermione?!” Ron asked incredulously.

“Why yes, what a good idea, announce to the whole Great Hall that my best friend two seats away suddenly can’t eat chocolate because he’s a werewolf,” Hermione hissed. “Go be sick in the Hospital Wing.” Ron groaned.

“Be quick, or you might miss me winning the Quidditch Cup!” Ariadne called jovially as he walked off.

“I’ll try! HEURGH!” Ron yelled back, before doubling over and narrowly avoiding vomiting all over the floor. “On second thoughts I think I’ll go to the bathroom!” he cried through his hand, jogging off and retching.

“What an idiot,” Hermione groaned as Ariadne started speedwalking to catch back up with the team. “He’s cleverer than you think, but sometimes…”

“He’s still getting used to it. I swear, he noticed the mail arriving twenty seconds before it did the other day, but he didn’t realize nobody else could hear the owls,” Ariadne replied. “Tell Ginny he’s just got an upset stomach, ate too quickly at breakfast, yeah? Ron hasn’t told her yet.” Hermione nodded.

“Yeah. It’s really not a lie either, did you sense him eat that last sausage? He didn’t even chew it, I’m pretty sure he just swallowed it whole.” Ariadne snorted. “Stay safe out there, Ariadne,” Hermione told her. “Slytherin are going to play dirty, you know.”

“So are we,” Ariadne replied, smiling. “See you after the match, Hermione!”

“You too,” Hermione said, hugging her briefly. “Win it for Ron. He needs something good.” Ariadne grinned.

“For Ron it is,” Ariadne replied.

\--

“Play dirty” was an understatement, as Ariadne dodged yet another Bludger sent her way by the Slytherin Beaters. There had already been _several_ penalties, on both sides. After Angelina had scored first within a few minutes, Marcus Flint had crashed into her, and had earned Fred’s bat thrown at the back of his head which had bounced off Flint’s broomstick and probably broken his nose. Those twenty seconds alone had earned both sides a penalty - Alicia had scored, and Oliver had saved against Cassius Warrington.

At least Slytherin were doing terribly, and Gryffindor were pulling ahead at 40 to 10.

Only a half dozen minutes later, Graham Montague had grabbed Katie by the head, and Katie had had the honour of taking the resulting penalty - and making it an immediate point to Gryffindor. Peregrine Derrek had been targeting Ariadne with his Bludgers, and so she’d been trying to keep a distance from him, but Lucian Bole had been preoccupied with the Gryffindor Chasers, and had _not_ been playing by the rules. Only seconds ago, Bole had whacked Alicia in the stomach with his bat, and a resounding _crack_ filled the air as George elbowed him in the face - and Madam Hooch’s whistle had blown across the field shrilly.

“Dual Penalty!” Madam Hooch shouted, as Ariadne willed her broom up to comply with the formations and Malfoy put himself opposite her as they circled the pitch and Ariadne noticed down below, behind her a ways, the easily spotted lycanthropic core of Ron, who seemed to have recovered from his bout of accidental self-poisoning, standing beside Hermione and Ginny. She needed to focus on keeping Malfoy off the Snitch, but it wasn’t easy when she was waiting for Alicia to take her run at Miles Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, and Malfoy’s movements were more dictated by formation.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, and Alicia shot forward as Ariadne kept searching. If Alicia scored and Wood saved again, that would put them at 50-10, only two goals away from her sixty point over opening.

“YES!” Ariadne yelled as Alicia flicked the Quaffle into Bletchley’s right-most hoop, a gong sounding to indicate the goal. 50-10. _Two more goals_ , she thought, triumphantly as Flint lined up for a run at Wood. Malfoy looked worried. He knew _exactly_ what Ariadne was doing, and if he didn’t he was a moron. This wasn’t a fight for the game, this was a fight for the Cup, and with Ariadne holding the advantage in both locating and catching the Snitch now that she flew a Firebolt, that wasn’t looking like a fight Malfoy could win.

“Scared, Granger?” Draco called as Marcus began his run.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,” Ariadne replied, smirking as Wood poised himself, and Marcus Flint threw the ball as hard as he could toward the left hoop… and missed, as Wood knocked the Quaffle down and into Alicia’s waiting arms as almost the entire crowd cheered as the wing of Gryffindor Chasers swooped off away toward the hoops. “See you ‘round, Malfoy,” Ariadne taunted, separating from him and resuming her hawkish observation of the pitch. Even if she sensed the Snitch, she couldn’t make it obvious she knew - in fact, if she did, her job would be to place herself between Malfoy and it, to ensure he didn’t see it.

Alicia tossed the Quaffle to Angelina as Ariadne swooped by where her friends were, searching and keeping a close watch on Malfoy as she heard Ginny cheer. She hadn’t found the Snitch _yet_ , but she had good odds of beating Malfoy to it if she chased him. She frowned. Malfoy would not be so stupid to try to outrun a Firebolt on a Nimbus 2001 - he’d even been complaining when she got it that his father wouldn’t buy him his own, as he “already owns a racing broom,” he knew the Firebolt was the superior one. She wondered if his strategy would be to sneak up on the Snitch, and not let slip that he’d seen it until he nearly had it.

Keeping a mental eye on the entire pitch, Malfoy’s behaviour _and_ the vicinity of Malfoy would be rather difficult, she thought. She _could_ keep spatial track of more than one thing at once, thanks to her sense not working the same way as sight, but dividing her concentration between them only reduced her reaction time. The pitch and Malfoy was bad enough.

A feint wouldn’t work - Malfoy would know she wasn’t going for the Snitch, not without being sixty points up.

GONG!

Katie had scored, as the crowd erupted into applause and Ariadne’s grin widened. 60-10. One more goal, just one more, and she could really go to work. Sensing the Slytherin Beaters coordinating, Ariadne leapt upward on her broom to dodge both Bludgers as they were sent hurtling toward her in an X arrangement, but they didn’t even graze her boots as she was already twenty feet above them.

The purple glimmer of the Snitch met her mind, far above, flitting around the next tower, about the Professors and Lee Jordan. Frowning performatively, Ariadne began to ascend, spiralling slightly as if she were finding a new patrol altitude, before putting herself between Draco and the Snitch, as it flitted into the open space between the towers.

Graham Montague made a run for the goal, the Quaffle in his arms, _just_ managing to send it flying toward the goals before a Bludger hammered at him by Fred slammed into his side and he was thrown spinning to the side and almost colliding with the stands. In a flash, Wood had the Quaffle, and chucked it to a patiently waiting Angelina, who led the charge back toward the Slytherin goals. George sent the other Bludger toward Adrian Pucey, who was trying to intercept Angelina, forcing him to disengage as they swiftly approached the goal.

GONG!

“And _another_ ten points to Gryffindor!” Lee Jordan shouted. “Gryffindor leads, seventy to ten!” Ariadne smiled and shot backward, spiraling to face toward the Snitch as she leant forward on her broom. She cursed to herself as it flew straight away from her and began making its way eagerly toward Malfoy, even as she was gaining on it. Malfoy had seen, and was hurtling toward her.

 _Just a few more inches_ … Ariadne thought, grasping at the air, not quite sure at close range exactly how far the ball was from her…

GONG!

“AGAIN! Katie Bell scores, Gryffindor leads _eighty to ten_ as Ariadne Granger hurtles after the Snitch- and-” A feathery ball filled Ariadne’s hand as Lee Jordan yelled into the microphone before gasping. She skidded to a mid-air halt, stopping using the Unbreakable Braking Charm as Malfoy shot past her, curving around to see what had happened as she lifted the ball into the air. “AND SHE HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH!” Jordan screamed, as Madam Hooch’s whistle blared across the pitch. “GRYFFINDOR WINS, TWO HUNDRED AND THIRTY TO TEN! And I do believe that by winning two hundred and twenty points ahead of Slytherin… Gryffindor has just won the Quidditch Cup for the first time since 1996!” Lee Jordan cried as Ariadne shook the Snitch in her hand as uproarious cheers filled her ears as her whole arm went numb and she realized what had happened.

She’d won. Gryffindor had won, and thanks to her, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup for the first time in almost a decade. Oliver Wood had his departing wish, as the team were beckoned to land, and the Cup was presented to Oliver, who kissed it and held it up to an elated crowd.

“WOAH, WOAH WOAH WOAH!” Ariadne exclaimed as Fred and George hoisted her up onto their shoulders by her legs, her broom dangling in the air before Wood took it and held up the Quidditch Cup, letting the Firebolt hover.

“You won us this, Ariadne,” Wood told her, smiling. Blinking in surprise, Ariadne resolutely took the other handle, and Oliver let go. “GIVE IT UP FOR THE WHITE EYED WONDER!” Oliver bellowed, swinging his arms into the air as the stadium erupted into applause and Ariadne took the Cup with both hands and lifted it into the air, her voice spilling out into the summer day in the first moment of true joy she’d held since learning what had happened to Ron.

Speaking of her friends, Ariadne beamed as Hermione, Ginny and Ron sprinted onto the pitch as Fred and George dumped her onto the ground and Ron almost bowled her over pulling her into a hug.

“You’re feeling better I see!” Ariadne exclaimed, a wide grin filling her face.

“Wouldn’t have missed this for anything!” Ron yelled over the crowd and laughed breathily as the throng was beginning to filter onto the field, banners and fliers waving in the air and illuminated by blue as Ariadne’s glasses pulsed so much slower than her heartbeat which rammed through her chest as Ginny enveloped her in her arms. 

“That was _amazing_ , ‘Adne!” Ginny exclaimed. Ariadne swore her cheeks had gone redder than the Gryffindor house colours, before the entire team picked her up and carried her, cheering all the way to the teams’ exit. Even as she couldn’t help but admit that Ron’s cheers of joy had taken on an almost howl-like tone if one were looking for it, she was glad to know he was happy. Publicly, she’d won it for Wood, but in reality, she’d won for the two youngest Weasleys, Hermione and nobody else. Her sister, and her two best friends, both of whom she’d sworn to help in their darkest hours. Nobody else mattered.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhh I’ve written like 12,000 words in the last 24 hours, I should maybe rest.  
> My mind, however, is chugging ahead at eighty miles per hour as I plan how Ron being a werewolf will affect things.


	109. The Confession of Melion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has a coming-out of his own, upon returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact: this wasn’t in my vaunted 30,000 word planning document, I’ve been going through it and updating everything to reflect Ron being a werewolf because I decided to do it on a whim in the shower on Sunday.

It was starting. As the days drew on, and their remaining exams dwindled into none, Ron was… ill was perhaps the best word. As the new moon gave way to the waxing crescent and then that to the first quarter, Ron grew ever more achy and irritable. Even Ginny was suspecting something was wrong, as Ron owled his mother asking if she could get him Pepperup Potion - effectively a remedy to combat the common cold, as it was becoming debilitating on the final week of term. He was starting to break out in sweat even with Hermione’s enchantment on a wing of paper fans batting cool air at him in the Common Room on the last few days of term. At least that could be explained as him failing to handle the summer heat, not like the minor fever he was starting to run and his raw throat and voice.

“It’s going to be like this every month, isn’t it?” Ariadne asked quietly as they sat in the corner of the Common Room, next to an open window. Even she was sweating, at least Ron wasn’t alone in that regard as summer had well and truly arrived with a vengeance. 

“S’pose,” Ron grumbled, holding a glittering green ice pack to his forehead, again enchanted but this time by Ariadne not to melt. “Just have to get used to it, I guess. Remus said the first’s the worst, at least,” he added, his voice scratchy.

“Want me to make some more water?” Hermione asked, pointing to the empty jar beside him.

“That’d be great,” Ron replied. “Thanks ‘Mione,” Hermione pulled out her wand and picked up the jar.

“ _ Aguamenti _ ,” Hermione mumbled, gently filling the glass with a spout of water from the tip of her wand that was briefly illuminated for Ariadne before becoming a tiny trickle of void. “Let’s see if I can put ice cubes in it this time…  _ Glacius _ ,” she said, an orange wave flowing into the glass at her voice. She frowned. “I guess that’s  _ nearly _ ice cubes. More like flakes,” she said, handing the jar back to Ron.

“Mmm,” Ron hummed, eagerly gulping down what must have been half the water. “ _ Ah _ . That’s better, thanks. I gotta learn that one.”

“Are you going to be okay alone? Hermione and I need to go talk to Professor McGonagall real quick,” Ariadne asked gently. Ron nodded.

“I’m good, stop mothering me, you ninny. It’s not like I’m  _ actually _ dying,” Ron replied, laughing before his laugh became a raspy cough and he took another few sips of water. “Go, I’ll see you later.” Leaving their friend in the care of their enchanted fans and ice pack, the two took their bags and set on their way to the first floor, and Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Ah, Ariadne, Hermione. How can I help you this afternoon?” Professor McGonagall asked as they knocked on the doorframe. “Would this happen to be regarding your fourth year timetables?”

“Yes, Professor,” Ariadne replied. “We’ve decided to drop a class each, so we don’t have to use the Time Turners.” McGonagall nodded as Ariadne pulled the little case out of her bag.

“I’m glad to hear it; much as your academic achievements are incredible and I would never have dreamed of stopping you if you wished to continue next term, it’s clearly taken a toll on your health,” McGonagall said, pulling some sheets of parchment from her desk and taking the case from Ariadne, and then Hermione’s. “Which class are you dropping?”

“Muggle Studies for me, Professor,” Ariadne replied. “It’s interesting, but we already know everything even with Professor Burbage’s new curriculum.”

“Yes, she shared your essays on… what was it called, televisual communications? Well deserving of those O grades. Muggle Studies for you as well, Hermione?” McGonagall asked as she made notes and crossed something off.

“No, Professor,” Hermione replied. “Care of Magical Creatures.” McGonagall nodded again.

“Professor Hagrid will be sad to see you go, I’m certain, but if it is the right choice for you I’m sure he understands. Do enjoy your holidays, girls,” she replied warmly, placing the Time Turners into her desk. “I’ve just got to inventory these and have them sent back to the Department of Mysteries, my apologies.”

\--

The trip back to King’s Cross Station heralded the most lethargic instance of Ron yet - Seamus had had to yell at him to wake him up, and Ariadne was honestly surprised at his ability to carry his entire trunk down the stairs. Even if he felt crap, the imminent full moon on the second of July was bringing his new wolven traits to bear and the boy was oddly strong for someone so sluggish. He’d spent the entire train ride as close as he could get to the open window, letting the wind blow in his face.

“Can you er, can you come with me?” Ron asked hesitantly as they stood in line for the exit of Platform 9 ¾, waiting to be ushered out when no non-magical people were looking. Ariadne had got out her cane in preparation, and was wearing her glasses around her neck discretely. “This afternoon?”

“You’re gonna-” Ariadne asked.

“Yeah. Can you be there? I don’t want to do this alone,” Ron said slowly, as if he’d already figured out what to say ahead of time. “Your mum and dad can come too, they might as well know.”

“We’ll ask, give me a second,” Ariadne assured him, patting him on the back as she stepped forward and through the wall into King’s Cross Station proper. Feigning difficulty so as to not draw any incorrect attention to herself, she felt around with her feet as she walked vaguely toward the golden-specked figures of her mother and father.

“Ariadne! Over here,” Valerie called as Dennis rushed forward to take her trolley.

“There’s our beautiful girls, good afternoon Ariadne!” Dennis exclaimed, brushing her arm gently before giving her a hug and taking hold of the trolley. “You can sense me, right? Glasses?” he whispered. Ariadne nodded slightly. “Right, thought I’d check, your act’s convincing. Oh there’s our little Hermione, not so little anymore though!” he cried as Ariadne started rolling the little ball on the end of her cane along the slightly uneven ground of the platform gently.

“Hey Mum!” Ariadne said as Valerie stepped over and wrapped her in her arms.

“Adne!” Valerie cried. “Oh it’s good to see you my dear, how was your term?”

“Long,” Ariadne replied, winking. “Hey um, can we go with the Weasleys this afternoon? Ron needs to tell everyone something and wants us to be there.” Valerie frowned.

“Your dad’s already got the chicken out to defrost for dinner, but we can Floo over after if that’s all right?” Ariadne nodded, and made her way over to Molly, who was fussing over Ron.

“Mrs. Weasley? Would it be all right if we Floo’d over, at about six? Ron asked us to come,” Ariadne asked, as her cane tapped on Molly’s shoe.

“Hmm? Oh you’re going to- all right, yes, of course,” Molly replied hurriedly. “Percy where  _ are _ you going?” she called, as Percy stepped away.

“Mister Crouch wants to meet me before we start tomorrow,” Percy replied, holding up a letter he must have received on the train. “Apparently we’ll be very busy over the summer so he wants to make sure he knows everyone on his team,” he explained. Molly groaned.

“Arthur always said Crouch would be a bad person to work for,” Molly said. “Well, if you must. When will you be home?”

“Not sure, sorry Mum,” Percy replied. “I wouldn’t bother with my dinner though, I’ll be back at nine at the absolute earliest.”

“Oh! Oh all right then, but you make sure you eat! I won’t be having you starving yourself for your work, make sure you have something filling. Have fun Percy, and make sure to say hello to your father if you run into him!” Molly replied, hugging him and waving as he went, before with a pop, Percy looked around, stepped behind a pillar, and Apparated away. “Hungry, Ron?” Ron nodded glumly. “All right, well you can have the extra mince Percy won’t be eating, I’m sure it’ll do you some good and I already got it out anyway, might as well. I’d better get these kids home and some food in them, I’ll see you at six, yes?”

“Sure thing, Molly,” Valerie replied, before the Grangers and Weasleys parted ways in the carpark, the Ford Anglia vanishing from everyone except Ariadne’s sight as it lifted into the air, and the Grangers piled into the car.

“So, how long was your term, girls? Ariadne’s certainly looking good for it,” Valerie asked as they got in, making Ariadne blush.

“About-a-bout-a-a-about a year,” Ariadne replied embarrassedly, miming the compression of time. “I’m nearly fifteen, actually. Still need to figure out exactly when my birthday is now, but it’s probably in August.”

“That’d make you already 15, Hermione?”

“Approximately,” Hermione replied. “I didn’t take quite as detailed notes, Ariadne needed them for Madam Pomfrey and she was jumping back more for Quidditch practice. I’d give my age a month or so bracket within which my birthday lands in from her notes.”

\--

Ariadne’s world exploded around her as she arrived in the Burrow’s Floo, her belly full of mild chicken korma her dad had made, Hermione beside her. It had been a long time, for her, since she’d last sensed the house, and she was glad to be surrounded by the chaos that was revealed by her glasses. Stepping out, they were immediately followed by the roar of Dennis and Valerie arriving behind them, stumbling into the living room.

“Come in, come in,” Molly said as she released them from the Floo by tapping her wand on the fireplace. The smell of savoury mince still filled the air, and it sounded like a few of the family were still eating. Arthur had gotten home, and was sitting beside Ron, who looked up from the head of the table to see them eagerly. “Would you like me to get your brothers and sister down, Ron?” Molly asked gently, and Ron nodded, his mouth still clearly full of mince as he chewed.

“Mm! Hey, Mister and Mrs. Granger!” Ron called, waving at them weakly.

“Hey Ron,” Valerie said, sitting down at the table. “You don’t look so good, are you feeling okay?”

“That’s actually what this is about,” Arthur said calmly as Molly ascended the stairs and Ariadne sat down opposite him, on Ron’s left. “Percy seems busy, barely had time to say hello before old Crouch had him on duty. Are you okay with Percy not knowing, Ron?”

“‘S all right,” Ron replied through another mouthful. “He won’t be around as much and he’s moving out soon anyway.”

“Hmm. I suppose it’s for the best, wouldn’t want him accidentally telling Barty, his boss isn’t the kindest about these matters. There’re worse, but I wouldn’t trust Barty Crouch with it,” Arthur mused as footsteps thumped down the stairs and Ginny, followed by the twins, arrived back at the table.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked curiously.

“I um… oh Merlin. I need to tell you all something,” Ron said, putting his fork down as Ginny took a seat. “Crikey, is this what it was like for you, Ariadne?” Ariadne nodded darkly.

“You’re trans too?” Ginny exclaimed, leaning forward.

“No, no, no,” Ron replied, rubbing a finger on his temple before taking a gulp of water. “Deep breaths Ron, deep breaths,” he muttered to himself. “Ugh. Um. So.. you know how we went camping with Professor Lupin?”

“Yep…” George replied, glaring at Ron as if to stop him from mentioning the stolen tent as Ginny frowned.

“The werewolf?” Valerie asked. Hermione nodded. “I heard about what you said on the radio, Ariadne, it was very stirring. Made me rethink some things.” George hummed in agreement.

“Yeah. He’s nice, actually. It was his last full moon at Hogwarts, so we wanted to support him. On the last night, we er. We played fetch with him, he said it might be fun,” Ron continued, earning a snicker from Fred. “And it was. But… I had a cut on the back of my hand, and forgot to wash my hands after,” he told them, raising his hand, which didn’t seem to bear the plaster anymore.

“Oh my god…” Ginny mumbled.

“Ariadne noticed it on the Wednesday, it’s why she pretty much dragged me to the Hospital Wing at lunch and why I wasn’t in classes that day. Madam Pomfrey checked, and she was right,” Ron said. “I um… oh god. I… I needed to tell you because I live with you, and there’s no way I’d keep it a secret. I’m… I’m…” Ron buried his head in his hands. “I’m a werewolf too now,” Ron exclaimed as quickly as he could, his voice hoarse as Ginny gasped and Fred and George drew back, horrified, as Ron sniffed. Valerie gasped, and Dennis frowned.

“So that’s why you’ve been sick as a dog for a week?” Fred said, frowning. Ariadne scowled at him for the possibly unintentional joke, but Ron started laughing. Hermione looked shocked, unsure if Ron was laughing or crying as Ginny gaped at her brother.

“Sick as a dog,” Ron chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You’re…” Ginny spluttered. “You’re a  _ werewolf _ ?!” Ron nodded.

“Hence the extra mince,” Molly said, rubbing Ron’s shoulder. “All right, Ron?” Ron hummed, taking another sip of water.

“So, our little brother’s a werewolf…” George mumbled. “That’ll be… interesting.”

“That’s so cool!” Ginny exclaimed, a smile growing on her face as the twins laughed and Ron snorted. “What’s it like, can you smell really good now?”

“Uhh, yeah. I can actually,” Ron said, hesitantly, not having expected that reaction as Ariadne sat with a bemused smile on her face. “I can tell you haven’t taken a shower yet too,” he added snidely as Ginny drew back, smelling her armpits and silently marvelling at how he could smell what she couldn’t.

“Hold on!” Fred exclaimed, bobbing his head side to side. “Your eyes are doing that reflective dog thing!”

“Really?!” Ron spluttered, turning to the window to check his reflection. “You sure?”

“So everybody’s all good with this?” Arthur asked hesitantly, slowly shifting his head to face everyone. “Nobody’s got any problems?”

“No, never,” George replied seriously. “He’s still Ron, he’s still our brother.”

“Yeah,” Fred added. “Ron’s Ron, werewolf or not.”

“Yeah!” Ginny exclaimed. “Professor Lupin was fine, why wouldn’t Ron be?” 

“Oh good,” Arthur sighed, as Ron gaped at them almost whimsically, sniffling.

“Really?” Ron asked quietly. “You don’t- you don’t think I’m-”

“What, a monster or something? Ron, you’re our brother!” Ginny replied, standing up and stepping around Ariadne’s chair to kneel in front of her brother, who was almost crying from relief. “I don’t care if you turn into a wolf every month, you’re still my brother.”

“Yeah,” George added, also standing up. “You’ll always be our little Ronniekins,” he told him, leaning forward and ruffling Ron’s hair, before nodding to Fred. Ron was tearing up, Ariadne could hear him sniffing and breathing through his mouth, and his chin was wobbling.

“I don’t really, uh, know much about this, but if Ariadne says you’re safe to be around, then that’s good enough for me,” Dennis said. “So you like… turn into a wolf every full moon and all that?”

“Yeah,” Ron said solemnly, sniffing.

“What do you look like?” Ginny asked eagerly. “On the full moon, I mean?” Everyone turned to look at her as Ron spluttered, a bit shocked. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” Ron replied quietly, touching her shoulder. “I um.. I don’t know yet. We only found out because Ariadne saw it inside me. My first um… my first  _ time  _ is the day after tomorrow.”

“If Ariadne hadn’t been able to tell, we’d only be finding out  _ then _ and it wouldn’t have ended well,” Arthur said, rubbing Ron’s back. “Remus will be visiting to help him through it.”

“His Wolfsbane potion arrived this morning, so he doesn’t have to worry about losing control,” Molly added, tapping a case that was standing on the bench. “No tampering with it, you two,” she said to the twins sternly, both of whom immediately shook their heads.

“What does that mean?” Valerie asked. “Wolf’s Bane potion?”

“It means he’ll still be himself when he changes, Mum,” Hermione replied. “Normally, someone afflicted with lycanthropy doesn’t have any control during the full moon, the potion makes sure he will. It’s a horribly expensive potion, but the school’s providing it.”

“So the potion makes sure he’s not dangerous?” Valerie asked, and Hermione nodded. “Oh well that’s good. Remember to take it, I don’t want you hurting  _ them _ . No offense,” she added to Ron, pointing to her daughters. Ron nodded, grimacing.

“None taken, Mrs. Granger,” Ron mumbled.

“So wouldn’t that mean that instead of becoming a mindless killing machine, he just becomes a big puppy?” Dennis asked. Ron snorted, almost sticking his face in the mince as he cracked up laughing. “‘Cos I’m fine with that.”

“Wait… is this why you were sick before Quidditch?!” Ginny asked, standing behind Ariadne. “Hermione said you had an upset stomach!” Ron looked down bashfully, as he stopped laughing.

“Er… yeah. Turns out chocolate milk makes me puke my guts up,” Ron replied wryly.

“What on earth would you drink that for?!” Molly exclaimed. “ _ Chocolate _ milk,  _ chocolate _ ?! Are you  _ trying _ to poison yourself?!” Ginny started cackling, and slapped his shoulder playfully. “Silly boy!”

“Wait, you can’t eat chocolate anymore?” Fred asked. “But your chocolate frog card collection!”

“There’s a whole list of things, it sucks,” Ron groaned. “I can’t even eat anything too salty!”

“I’ll work around it, don’t worry. That’s why there was no onion or garlic in the mince this time,” Molly assured him. “Feeling okay, son?”

“Yeah, as much as I can I suppose,” Ron replied, taking another large gulp of water. “It’s mostly the Pepperup you sent me though.” Molly grimaced.

“Okay, well I’ll go put some localized freezing charms in your room so it stays cool in there for you, that fever has gone nowhere. Finish your mince before it gets cold, even I can hear your tummy rumbling so there’s no way  _ you  _ can’t,” she said, holding the back of her hand to Ron’s forehead. “I love you, my boy, you’re going to get through this,” she added, kissing the top of his head and bustling off to the staircase. Ron smiled and took another two really rather large bites of savoury mince.

“And we thought he ate lots before!” George exclaimed. “Try not to eat everything in the house, Ronny.”

“Ha!” Ron barked, to the surprise of everyone in the room. “I’ll try not to.”

“ _ That _ was a bark,” Fred said, pointing and making Ron clap his hands to his mouth. “No barking in the house, wolf-boy!” Ron’s mortification was replaced by unending laughter as he started coughing and spluttering, reaching for his, from the angle he tipped it to, nearly empty glass of water. Seeing Ron wasn’t offended, Hermione started laughing too and Ariadne couldn’t help but join in.

“Keep the wolf jokes at home, please, long as Ron’s okay with them,” Arthur chided them, the rumble of a suppressed chuckle filling his own voice as he looked to Ron, who nodded, still laughing. “I won’t have any of you telling anyone, not a soul, understood?”

“Yes Dad,” the kids replied in unison.

“And none of your noisy experiments this week, boys. Your bedroom’s right below his and not only does he have a splitting headache but he’s got some good ears on him now. No drumming, Ginny. He’s got enough on his plate as it is.”

“Not for much longer, he’s  _ wolfing _ that down,” Ginny snickered as Ron took another bite, before giggling as Ron indignantly flicked mince at her.

“That one wasn’t even good!” Ron exclaimed through his food.

“You’re all good with jokes, right? I know they’re our thing, but I don’t wanna be kicking you when you’re down, y’know?” George asked, an unusually serious tone filling his voice. Ron nodded, swallowing.

“Yeah, it’s fine. If you don’t laugh you cry and all that stuff, I guess,” he replied. “Might as well.”

“We’d better get going, unless you two want to stay over?” Valerie announced, looking to the girls, who in turn turned to Ron, who nodded slightly.

“I think we should be here for him, you know?” Ariadne replied. “Wanna get out your chess set, Ron?”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” Ron replied, moving to get up before groaning and deciding against it. “In a bit.”

“All right, well, I’ll get your pajamas then, girls,” Dennis said, standing up. “Ron, I hope you know you’re always welcome at our house.” He smiled. “As long as you don’t pee on the furniture.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join us shortly for more Werewolf Ron content! It’s so much fun, even though Ron’s gonna suffer for it. He’s going to suffer, and I’m going to be entertained, that’s how this works, right?


	110. Full Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Ron’s first full moon as a werewolf comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I wonder why you’re all so suspicious of me xD  
> TW: Bodily wounding, blood. This one doesn’t have a happy ending.

“Is that a checkmate?” Ron asked, groggily, blinking at the chessboard. “No, hang on… yeah. Yeah, checkmate!” he exclaimed, smiling and coughing as he sat up in his bed. He’d had a rough night, and hadn’t slept well - it had been close enough to full moon to give him aches and pains. In truth, Ariadne had been going easy on him.

It was the second of July, and that night was to be Ron’s first full moon. She and Hermione had, after going home for the second day of the holidays, returned to the Burrow that afternoon at Ron’s request. The pair had mostly been sitting in his room with him, Ariadne keeping an ‘eye’ on Molly’s enchantments and letting her know when they needed replacing. Hermione had been reading him  _ The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe _ , but not only had he almost fallen asleep but Hermione had remembered that he maybe wouldn’t appreciate aspects of  _ Prince Caspian _ regarding werewolves. He also hadn’t quite been familiar with the history of the second world war, to Hermione’s disappointment. Instead, they’d been finding activities that could keep him awake, like the game of chess.

Remus was late. He’d been expected to arrive at three o’clock in the afternoon, but it was nearing four o’clock as Ariadne ran a finger along her watch - of which she was only wearing one now that she didn’t need the pair. She used the enchanted one, and left the mundane one as a spare.

“Well done, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, patting him on the back gently as Ariadne reset the board.

“Another game?” Ariadne asked, smiling warmly. “Might beat you next time.”

“No you won’t, you’re going easy on me, letting me win,” Ron groaned. “You passed up the opportunities to take my queen, black square bishop  _ and _ my rook and all of them would have been good choices.” Ariadne sighed.

“Yes, I was going easy on you, but can you blame me?” Ariadne asked. “You took ten seconds to realize you had a checkmate, on a new moon it wouldn’t have taken you  _ one _ .”

“Ugh,” Ron groaned. “Okay, another game, but play properly this time. Stop babying me,” he said, adjusting a pillow he was sitting on. “Can you close the curtains, please, Hermione?” Hermione nodded, standing up from beside him. As Hermione pulled them shut, Ron’s head jerked up. “That must be Remus,” Ron said tiredly, shaking his head from another wave of tiredness.

“Huh?”

“There’s a car in the driveway, can’t you- oh,” Ron explained shortly before sighing. “Ears. Hrnnggg, let’s go,” the boy groaned, pushing the blankets off himself and letting Ariadne take his arm as he picked up what Arthur had given him to take the place of a cane for the moment - a stout tree branch, which stood as tall as Ron himself and a little more. In truth, it was more of a staff than a cane, as he leant heavily on the branch and Ariadne held him upright, leading him down the stairs.

“He’s not here yet, Ron,” Molly said gently as she stood up from the table. “Your father should get home in an hour or two, but Remus is most  _ definitely _ late.”

“He’s arriving right now,” Ron replied quietly. “In a car.” Molly frowned, and leaned into the window.

“Oh, so he is. Just how powerful  _ are _ your ears right now?” Molly marvelled. “You had time to get down the stairs!”

“It’s good Ginny’s not playing the drums right now,” Ron mumbled. Groaning, Ron tilted his head toward the table and Ariadne helped him over to where his mother had been sitting, and let him painfully collapse into the wooden chair and roughly grab a cushion to lean his head on. Outside, Ariadne heard a car crunch to a halt on the gravel, and its door open. Ron smiled slightly as he faced toward the open door.

“That’s all melted in there, I think,” Hermione said, tapping the freezer block wrapped in a tea towel the Grangers had brought with them. It was probably just dripping lukewarm water into Ron’s lap. “Want me to get the other one?” Ron grunted affirmatively, nodding.

“I take it back, don’t stop babying me,” Ron chuckled painfully as he rubbed his forehead with the back of his knuckles. “It’s warmer down here.” The engine of the car started up again as Hermione jogged to the Weasleys’ enchanted freezer.

“Remus!” Molly cried warmly, offering him a hug in the doorway as Ariadne heard his footsteps arrive just as Hermione returned with the other freezer block, which Ron gladly held to his belly. “Can I get you anything? We’ve been taking care of Ron already so it’s really no trouble.”

“Molly, good afternoon. So sorry I’m late, the taxi driver didn’t quite understand the address and I try to avoid Apparating at this time of the month,” Remus replied. “I’m fine, or at least I’m used to it by now,” he added, as he accepted the hug and stepped into the door. Ariadne waved, smiling to him.

“Hey Mister Lupin!” Hermione called, making Ron wince at the sound. “Oh, sorry Ron,” she whispered. A haggard Lupin stepped over carefully, frowning.

“Afternoon, Ron. You look positively dreadful. I know the first change is the worst but, dear god,” Remus said quietly, sitting down on another chair with a small groan. “Don’t tell me you’ve been taking that Pepperup potion all week, have you?”

“Hey Remus. Yeah, but just in the morning today,” Ron replied. “Didn’t do much, eurgh,” he lamented. Remus sighed, hunching forward.

“Not the best idea, Ron,” he said as Ron’s face somehow fell even more. “You must remember, Pepperup is designed for the severe common cold, and while the symptoms can be similar, the mechanism is really rather different. You’re not  _ ill _ , your body is being... wound up like a spring, if you will. The change is merely when that spring goes proii-oii-oiing. The less time it gets to wind up, the worse it is.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ron said glumly. “I just feel like shit.”

“Believe me, I know. Pepperup is fine most of the time, but when it’s within a week, best to only use it when you have to.” Ron nodded. “I wish I could say you’ll feel better soon, but you’re going to feel like this all week, and it’ll only really start fading after the cycle’s over. As you get accustomed to it, it’ll take less time to recover, but at your stage you’ll only just have gotten over this moon before your next one starts winding up.” Ron groaned, collapsing onto the table and immediately regretting it as his head hit it. “ _ But _ , you  _ are _ young, so it should only be a handful of cycles before you’re feeling a bit better.”

“Most of a year,” Ron added glumly, rubbing his head. Lupin grimaced, nodding.

“I bounced back quicker, but that’s because I was even younger than you. That was not a happy four months. Oh, thank you Molly,” Remus told him, as Molly gave him a glass. “Mm. How are you two doing?” he asked the girls, who were sitting down the table awkwardly as Ginny sat down with a glass of her own.

“Doing well,” Ariadne replied lightly, nodding. “Taking care of this sack of complaints,” she added quietly as Ron snorted.

“Did you change your timetable at all for next year?” the man asked. “As I recall, you were nearly being run as ragged as Ron here is!”

“Dropped a class each,” Hermione said. “‘Adne dropped Muggle Studies, I dropped Care of Magical Creatures.”

“I think you’re doing a good job taking care of a magical creature,” Ron mumbled, laughing a little. Remus snorted. “They  _ are _ though!”

“Stop it, you,” Hermione chided him humorously. “Oh don’t you dare give me those puppy-dog eyes, Ronald Weasley!” she exclaimed as Ron sat up, looking at her. Lupin burst out laughing, spluttering on a mouthful of water.

“Oh god, that takes me back to being a teenager,” Remus chuckled. “Sirius must have said that to me a dozen times, you make good use of those puppy-dog eyes, Ronald.” He frowned. “Molly?”

“Yes, Remus?” Molly replied, poking her head out of the kitchen as Ron’s stomach gurgled loudly. “Oh hush, pup, I’m fixing you some soup.  _ Don’t you give me those eyes either, young man _ .”

“Thanks, Mum,” Ron called quickly.

“Has… has Ron had the uh, the  _ talk _ ?” Remus asked delicately, as Ron suddenly stared at him and Hermione snorted, unable to contain her giggles as Ginny started laughing.

“Yes, they all have,” Molly replied with a sigh. “Doesn’t stop them from being childish, though,” she added, glaring at Ginny, who was doubled over and cackling.

“Oh good,” Remus sighed. “Come on, Ron. I just need to give him the er, the  _ updated  _ version,” he said, helping Ron up. Ginny’s laughter only escalated as she pointed at Ron.

“You’re gonna go into hee-eat! You’re gonna go into hee-eat!” Ginny taunted loudly, making Ron look terrifyingly spooked before  _ both _ Remus and Molly shot daggers at her while Ariadne felt herself go redder than Ron’s hair.

“That is a myth,  _ Ginevra _ ,” Remus told her disdainfully as Ron spluttered indignantly, and the boy tangibly relaxed. “There are simply some minor physiological and behavioural changes he needs to be aware of and that I would have benefited from knowing about when I was a teenager. C’mon Ron. Nice staff,” he added, nodding to the bolt of wood Ron was leaning on.

“Ginevra Weasley, I will tolerate a degree of tomfoolery around Ronald’s condition within the bounds of his comfort, but you just crossed the line, young lady!” Molly exclaimed, clearly restraining her volume as soon as Ron and Remus had closed the door of the scullery and she’d hurried around the counter. “Go to your room, now! You can apologize to him at dinner, that was  _ not _ okay, especially not today!” Whining, Ginny reluctantly made her way back upstairs as Ariadne and Hermione sat at the table awkwardly. “Sorry about that, girls.”

It was a little over ten minutes before Ron and Lupin stepped back out of the scullery, nodding in agreement over something as the air filled with the smell of soup and the beef sandwiches Molly had fixed up for Ariadne and Hermione, and Molly set a bowl before each of the werewolves.

“Oh, thank you again, Molly. You’re too kind,” Remus said, smelling it as Ron sat down with a pained groan about his leg.

“Honestly it’s mostly just beef stock, some partially cooked leftover mince, some veggies and some herbs you said were okay,” Molly explained modestly. “I wasn’t sure about the meat, but you did say the rawer the better.”

“Mm, it’s perfect,” Remus said, slurping up a spoonful and waving his hand. “It’ll do him some good. He should probably take his potion before he has that, by the way. If anything it’ll help wash the taste out of his mouth.” Ron sat up, worried as Molly opened the case and pulled out a long vial which she quickly handed to the boy.

“Eurgh, that  _ smells _ bad,” Ron groaned, drawing backward as he unstoppered it. Ariadne couldn’t smell  _ anything _ .

“It tastes even worse. Just get it over with, and don’t spit any of it out. It’s expensive and we haven’t got time to replace it,” Remus said, pulling his own vial out of his pocket. Shaking his head, Ron took a breath and chugged the vial back.

He came up coughing, retching, and holding a hand to his mouth, as Ariadne jumped.

“Hhhh…  _ that’s disgusting _ ,” Ron strained to say, covering his mouth.

“You get used to it. Did you drink it all?” Ron shook his head, raising the probably transparent vial. “Get the rest of it down you, you need all of it.” Grimacing, Ron reluctantly downed the rest of the vial, shuddering in revulsion. “You have to take that every day of the cycle,  _ without fail _ . I wasn’t lucky enough for it to exist when I was at Hogwarts, and trust me, being feral in the Shrieking Shack is  _ not _ a good time. Your wolf’s claustrophobic, you’ll wake up covered in gashes and bites. Bottoms up,” Lupin told him severely, before unstoppering his own vial and downing the entire thing in one go.

“Can.. can I?” Ron asked, pointing to his soup. Lupin nodded, and Ariadne descended into laughter as Ron elected to forgo the spoon entirely and start loudly slurping it straight out of the bowl, before he realized he wouldn’t get any of the chunks that way and hurriedly started spooning it into his mouth as the fungus in both their magic started going chalky and grey.

“One thing you  _ won’t _ miss while he’s at school, Molly, is the appetite of an adolescent werewolf.”

\--

“Did you ever name your wolf, Remus?” Ginny asked curiously as Ron went back upstairs to change out of the clothes Lupin had tutted at him for expecting to go out with and replace them with something more akin to the robe he himself was wearing, else he ruin them if he couldn’t strip in time. Ron was hurrying as best he could, that much even Ariadne could hear, but from how much Remus was checking the clock on the wall, he was cutting it close.

“Hm?” Lupin hummed sharply. “Oh. No, er… one could say Mooney, but that was more  _ my _ nickname. That’s better,” he said as Ron shuffled down the stairs hesitantly, wincing at his cracking joints and wrapped in presumably nothing more than a blanket he’d grabbed off his bed. “We’d better get going, it’s later than I’d like and you’re definitely all wound up ready to pop,” he said, beginning to turn to the door.

“Do you want us to come?” Ariadne asked quietly. “We did bring a tent.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that, not on his first moon,” Lupin replied decisively as Ron ummed. “It’s not going to be pleasant, and you  _ don’t _ want to see that.” Ariadne nodded sombrely, and grimaced at Ron, who was sniffling sadly.

“Good luck, Ron,” Arthur said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Be safe,” Ariadne whispered. Ron nodded hesitantly as he followed Remus out of the door, padding barefoot toward the orchard through the grass.

“Remember, you can’t resist it, that’ll only make it worse. You need to let it happen,” Lupin told Ron gently as they all stood in the doorway, watching them leave. “You’ll be okay, Ron, you’ll be okay in the morning,” he added softly as Ariadne heard Ron start to cry, and Lupin pulled him to his side for a sort of hug. Grimacing, Ariadne turned away from the door and went to sit on the sofa, where the windows obscured the pair from her magic sense. Everyone else, it seemed had had the same idea, as Arthur closed both sections of the door and shuddered.

They mostly just sat in silence for a few minutes, before Molly jumped at the unmistakable sound of her youngest son screaming in agony, as Ariadne tried not to imagine what was happening to him. Nobody in the house slept well that night, and Ariadne cried herself to sleep in Ginny’s equally distraught arms on the sofa, still dressed and far too late at night.

It was also far too early when she was roused from her sleep by a commotion at the front door, and she fell to the ground, entangled with Ginny as she slammed into the floor groggily and Hermione shot awake on her single seater.

“ _ RON! _ ” Molly cried as Remus noisily carried her son in a bundle through the door Arthur had hurriedly opened. Ariadne sat up, alarmed but glad to sense Ron was definitely still alive and wriggling as Ginny stood up and darted out of Lupin’s way before the man carefully set Ron down on the couch she’d just been sleeping on. “ _ What did you do to him?! _ ” Molly half-yelled as Ron writhed and moaned in pain, as Ariadne realized what he was doing, her magic sense still unblurring

He was checking that he was human again, as he frantically felt for his face and arms and legs, checking he had fingernails again instead of claws, feeling his teeth. Ginny buried her face in Ariadne’s shoulder so she didn’t have to see her brother like that, while Hermione simply fled.

“Nothing, those wounds are self-inflicted!” Lupin called back as he hurriedly rummaged through his bag. “Ron, he… he panicked, he wasn’t even done changing before I had to wrestle him to the ground to stop him from fucking murdering himself! Even got me a couple times, but I’m fine.”

“Ron?!” Ariadne exclaimed, shuffling to his side as quickly as she could while Lupin got out a bottle and unscrewed a dropper from it.

“Don’t touch him, he’s bleeding all over the place,” Lupin commanded as she jumped back. “This is gonna sting a hell of a lot, Ron, but I  _ know _ you’ve had worse.” Ron wailed as Lupin started squeezing drops of an orange-glowing liquid from the dropper and starting on his face. “Essence of Dittany, it’s essential when you’re dealing with a first-timer,” he explained. Lupin sighed. “He calmed down after a bit but it didn’t help that he’d torn his own snout open. You’re actually a fairly magnificent wolf, Ron, much better than me before all the cuts. I heard you talking on that first night, Ariadne, he’s got a thick red and white coat and he looks like he should, you’d love him,” he added, patting Ron’s arm as the boy struggled out something along the lines of the word ‘different.’ “He’s just a big puppy. All right, everyone out! Now! I have to remove the blanket to get to his torso and legs, so for the sake of his privacy, I want everyone OUT!” Ariadne hurried from the lounge and immediately followed Ginny up to her room where she curled up on her bed.

“God, you’re lucky you didn’t have to see that,” Ginny mumbled shakily after a few seconds, as Lupin yelled for Murtlap essence to help soothe Ron’s lesser scratches and cuts. “He… oh god ‘Adne he was covered in blood!” she sobbed, curling up into a ball as Ariadne sat down beside her.

It was all her fault. If she had never suggested camping...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is partially brought to you by Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.” And by me staying up until 3:30 in the morning.


	111. A Free Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just over a month after Ron’s harrowing first change, Sirius is freed from prison and Ariadne invites him over for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a nice chapter, as a treat.

> _ Ariadne, _
> 
> _ Sorry I haven’t come over or asked you over. And sorry I haven’t written much. Honestly, I think I just need some space with all this - I feel like crap anyway so I wouldn’t be a very fun playmate at the moment. _
> 
> _ Remus was right, I didn’t get much time to feel normal before I started “winding up” again. Everything just feels weird. I can hear everything, I can smell everything, it’s wicked. It’s scary. I got frustrated with a thing the other day and almost tore a door off its hinges. Dad’s given me some breathing exercises, being like this can give you a hell of a temper. Remus says I’ll need to keep that in mind. I don’t know how he handled being a Professor. _
> 
> _ My second full moon’s in a couple of days, so I’m not feeling very good, but it turns out not taking Pepperup every day before it helps spread it out a little, I’m not all fever-y. Not as much anyway. _
> 
> _ Ginny painted me. My wolf, I mean. She didn’t see it, it’s just what Remus described, but it’s nice to have. She calls the painting “Brother.” I cried, stupid pack instinct went nuts. I don’t know if Remus told you what I look like, but I’m a lot more like a wolf than he is, and my fur’s kinda reddy-brown and white. Wouldn’t really know the difference from a normal wolf if it weren’t for the shorter tail and longer legs. He does say I’ll probably get all gangly and patchy after a few years though. _
> 
> _ I don’t want you guys coming with me on full moons, sorry. I know it’ll make it easier if you do, but I got this by accident. I don’t want anything like that happening to you or Hermione, or Ginny. I can’t bear to risk that. _
> 
> _ These new instincts are kinda funny though. Percy moved out the other day, got a little apartment closer to the Ministry. I cried and spent an hour in his old room because I could still smell him and it felt so wrong for him to go. I didn’t even like him that much! I actually really miss you, turns out taking care of me for a month means that pack thing is pretty strong for you two too. _
> 
> _ Whoops, I forgot to send these, got sleepy and forgot to give them to Pig. Sorry! Second full moon was… fine. Not fun, but better than last time. Managed not to hurt myself this time, ran about the orchard for a bit with Mooney (Ginny keeps using Mooney for his wolf, I wonder if I should name mine too before she pulls another Pigwidgeon - any suggestions?). _
> 
> _ Sirius is getting out in a couple days, though, isn’t he? Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Focus on your godfather, I’ll see you at the World Cup. And smell you.  _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Ron. _

Ariadne warmly regarded the roughly-written scroll she’d just picked up from the tiny Pigwidgeon’s claw - she and Hermione had both gotten one. She was surprised Ron had magical ink at home, otherwise she’d have never been able to read it even if Ron  _ had _ sent earlier letters. She’d been worried for him, outside of Ginny’s assurances when she’d visited that Ron was doing okay, she’d not heard from him even during the full moon. He’d sent a card a day before her birthday, but luck had not been on Ron’s side - his second full moon had landed on the 31st of July, directly on top of Ariadne’s birthday. As a result, Ariadne had simply brushed it off and told Ginny they should celebrate it later - the Quidditch World Cup provided an opportunity, was effectively on the new moon, and by complete coincidence, Ariadne had calculated that her  _ actual _ fifteenth birthday would be on the eighteenth of August. The exact same day as the match.

It was Sunday, the eighth of August. Ron was almost certainly still bedridden, but recovering, and Sirius was due to arrive that evening for dinner. He’d wanted to come the days before after being released on the sixth, but he’d been busy settling back into his house - which he apparently still had - and buying a new wand.

“Where’d you put the vacuum, Hermione?!” Dennis exclaimed from the living room as they stood at Ariadne’s window. “It’s not in the closet!”

“It’s still in my room from yesterday!” Hermione called back as she looked up from her own roll of parchment. “Want me to get it?”

“Nah it’s fine, I’ll get it,” Dennis replied as his golden-flecked figure stepped by the doorway as Ariadne’s glasses pulsed. “Oh hey, that’s Ron’s owl right? Finally sent you something?”

“Hmm. He meant to earlier, but he got caught up with the full moon happening,” Ariadne replied as Dennis grimaced. “Did he ask you for help naming his wolf too?” she asked Hermione.

“Yes, he did. We should make him a list, I’ll see if there’re any good mythological werewolves. They’re almost universally evil characters, unfortunately.”

“Doesn’t have to be that deep, Remus is Mooney,” Ariadne chuckled as Dennis went upstairs to fetch the vacuum from Hermione’s room. “Yes Hermes, it’s Pigwidgeon here to see you. Oh come on, do you not like Pig? Errol doesn’t either,” Ariadne crooned, carrying the jumpy bird over to the unlocked cage where Hermes was perched, as Hermes eyed the featherball suspiciously. “Okay, well if you two aren’t going to play nice I’ll have to send you back, Pig. Gimme a sec.  _ Ron… Coming… up… with… something… Sirius visiting… expect… Hermes (my Hermes... not Percy’s)... later... A _ ,” Ariadne complained, writing out an interim response on a piece of scrap paper and folding it up for Ron, before sending Pigwidgeon on his way.

“Percy’s owl is called Hermes too?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Yeah, it’s caused some confusion before,” Ariadne replied.

“What time’s Sirius getting here again, Ariadne?” Valerie called.

“Five!” Ariadne replied.

“What?!” Valerie exclaimed. “Oh god, and he’ll be bang on time as well with that magic teleporty thing they do. Dennis, you’d better get cooking, he’ll be here in half an hour!” With that, the house descended into a noisy chaos that Hermione fled to her room to avoid and Ariadne made sure she was presentable, letting Valerie tap some eyeshadow onto her eyelids as she couldn’t use the spell she usually fell back on, Ron’s letter lying unceremoniously on her bed, partially unrolled. It felt like it had barely been a minute before there was the thunderous crack of a whip outside.

“Is that-” Valerie spluttered as something fell to the ground outside the door. Ariadne leapt up, stepping quickly to the door.

As she swung it open, she was met with the panting form and green and brown core of one Sirius Black, smiling giddily as he rocked on the spot. If she had thought him cleaned up before, she hadn’t ‘seen’ anything yet. His hair had been tamed around his head in even, fuzzy waves, and his facial hair was well kept. Instead of the ill-fitting suit he’d worn at Hogwarts when she’d last observed him, he was wearing a long jacket that fit him well, open at the front to reveal a buttoned waistcoat, upon which the chain of what was probably a pocket-watch dangled, in addition to what looked like a tidy shirt underneath.

“Sirius!” Ariadne exclaimed, as the man shot forward into a hug, the soft texture of his jacket surrounding her.

“Ariadne!” Sirius cried, laughing in joy. “I haven’t Apparated properly in over a decade, I’m rusty. My, you’ve gotten taller!” he added, frowning as he drew a hand across from his head and to his chin. “I swear you were a few centimetres shorter last we met.”

“Six months,” Ariadne reminded him, smiling. “Growing girl.”

“I can see that,” Sirius replied, chuckling.

“Come in!” she said eagerly, taking his arm and almost pulling him into the house. “Mum! Dad! Sirius is here!”

“Ah!” Valerie exclaimed, stepping out of the lounge and warmly offering him her hand. “I’m Valerie, Ariadne and Hermione’s mum,” she said, introducing herself as Hermione clattered down the stairs and Dennis popped out of the kitchen. “And this is my husband, Dennis, their dad.”

“How d’you do?” Dennis remarked politely, shaking Sirius’ hand.

“And you could only be Sirius Black?” Valerie asked. “Ariadne’s been talking about you all month, and I have got to say, that’s one hell of a glow-up from the old wanted posters!” Sirius chuckled, looking down at himself and grinning as he patted the jacket.

“Well, that’s what happens when you get your wardrobe back, eh? It’s good to get the old threads out,” Sirius replied, smiling to Hermione. “Hello there, Hermione, you’re looking good. It’s so good to finally meet you two, you’ve done a far better job than I ever could have of raising our wee lass here, not so wee anymore though are ya! Oh!” Sirius rummaged through his pockets. “Thought that phoenix on your bag could do with a buddy,” he said, holding out a green-enchanted keychain, which animated gently in his hand with three pairs of great wings. “Happy late fourteenth birthday, young lady,”

“Woah… is this a Thunderbird?” Ariadne asked, raising it to her side to observe more of its enchanted details. “I’ve read about them, they can create storms!”

“Right you are! Clever, aren’t they?” Sirius remarked, smiling to the Granger parents. “ _ That _ , I know she got from you, Lily was clever but from what I’ve heard, Ariadne far surpasses both of them.”

“ _ That _ she got from Hermione, actually,” Dennis said, stepping back into the kitchen to keep an eye on dinner as he leant on the counter. “When we adopted her, she’d never been to school, so she copied how Hermione worked. There wasn’t a book in their school library Hermione hadn’t read to her.”

“I hyperfixated on Greek mythology,” Hermione mumbled, shrugging. “And Roman mythology. And then Norse, arctic animals…  _ Narnia _ ...” she trailed off. She’d had a  _ lot _ of hyperfixations as a child, she’d only specialized as she’d gotten older.

“Ah, the bookish type,” Sirius smiled. “Lily was a lot less scientific, but from what Remus tells me that scientific approach has served you  _ very _ well.” Ariadne grinned, hanging her head bashfully as Hermione nodded.

“Go sit down, everyone, dinner should be ready in a few minutes,” Dennis said, waving his hand before going and checking on the oven. “Yeah, that garlic bread’s nearly done.”

“Oh yeah, you said you got a new wand!” Ariadne said as they sat down at the table, Sirius noticing Hermione was uneasy with where he’d sat and moving to the next chair to let her take her usual spot.

“Yes!” Sirius replied, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out a crimson glowing wand. “Apple and dragon heartstring, by Ollivander. It’s funny, he remembered the exact characteristics of my old wand, even I didn’t remember how long it was and I used the damn thing for a decade! Plain design though, I think I might carve some runes into it,” he said, twirling the wand in his fingers before putting it back in his pocket.

“You studied Ancient Runes?” Hermione asked eagerly, leaning forward. “So do we!”

“I can’t say I was excellent at it, but I found some ones you’ll learn when they get you onto the actual magical ones in your sixth year useful when I carved them onto my old one. Shortcuts for complex or frequently used spells, that sort of thing,” Sirius explained.

“Your  _ old _ wand? What happened to it?” Valerie asked curiously.

“Oh they snapped it when they took me to Azkaban,” Sirius replied. Valerie nodded understandingly. “Technically speaking, you can cast magic without a wand, but you’ve got to be  _ very _ good. I only know of Dumbledore to have done it.”

“Are you settling back into life okay?” Valerie asked, frowning. “From what the girls have described, Azkaban is pretty much just wizarding  _ hell  _ so it can’t be easy for you.”

“I’m doing all right,” Sirius replied. “Remus has been helping me move into my parents’ old house I still own, but he’s a bit tired after this last cycle just ended on Wednesday.”

“What’s he been up to? Last I heard he resigned from Hogwarts after he was exposed,” Dennis asked, carefully omitting the knowledge of Ron’s experience as he opened the oven.

“Odd jobs here and there, he says,” Sirius said, craning his neck to see what Dennis was hoisting out of the oven. “He’s coping a lot better than he was fifteen years ago. Apparently he’s been helping someone who was bitten themselves pretty recently, pretty proud of him for doing that.”

“Okay Sirius, what’s your favourite type of pizza?” Dennis asked, at which Ariadne was glad Sirius immediately looked away from them for, as Hermione had  _ immediately _ looked at Ariadne, knowing what Sirius was talking about. Ariadne made a face at Hermione, tilting her head pointedly at Sirius, who had his back turned. They couldn’t assume Sirius knew  _ who _ Lupin was working with, and it was up to Ron if he wanted anyone to know.

“Oh! Merlin, I haven’t had pizza in god knows how long…” Sirius exclaimed. “Last time must have been back when I was living on your dad’s couch!” he laughed to Ariadne. “What’ve we got?”

“Meat lovers, pepperoni, supreme and a hawaiian,” Dennis replied, tilting the pizzas up to show him. “Just oven bakes, left it too late to cook so I grabbed them out of the freezer with some garlic bread.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, it’s wonderful, I’ve missed this kind of food. God, it’s been far too long. All of the above, I suppose?” Sirius said questioningly.

“Not a problem, Sirius, not a problem!” Dennis said as he took a large knife from a stand and started cutting the pizzas into ten slices each. “All right, you can have two slices of each type,” he told Sirius slowly as he made his way through the pizzas and leaned over to hand the man a plate. “And there’s your garlic bread.” Shortly, the food was distributed - unevenly, as Hermione despised the supreme variety for the capsicum - and Ariadne fell upon her pizza hungrily.

“How is… how is that going?” Hermione asked Sirius delicately, as Sirius hummed questioningly through a mouthful of garlic bread. “The person Mister Lupin is working with?”

“Oh.” Sirius waved the garlic bread he was holding. “I don’t know the details, not my business, but he says they’re doing well. Apparently they’ll be safe unsupervised soon, which is good he says.” He frowned. “Oh yes, you supported Remus publicly when he was exposed, didn’t you Ariadne?” Ariadne nodded, smiling warmly for both Ron’s progress and her own actions. “Well done on that. I didn’t hear it, but I read about it. You’ve got to be careful with them, the Prophet didn’t take nicely to you saying that and anti-werewolf sentiments aren’t widely opposed.” Ariadne grimaced.

“I couldn’t just do nothing. Someone had to say it,” she mumbled.

“And I’m glad you did, it was utterly reprehensible. You just need to be careful. You’re already a bit of a black sheep what with being transgender and openly calling wizarding society stagnant - bang on, by the way, you two - and now you’re openly supporting werewolves. I don’t disapprove, but a lot of people do and some of those people are in the Ministry.”

“Hmmm,” Dennis hummed through a mouthful of pizza. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re both very proud of you for standing up for Remus, but you’ve  _ got _ to be more careful. Should have chosen the ‘polite’ route rather than the ‘frank’ one.” Ariadne nodded glumly, awkwardly taking another bite.

“Speaking of magical animal people whatchamacallit stuff, the papers said you were an animal-mages? Animagus, I think the word was, wasn’t it?” Valerie asked, as Hermione nodded to her and Sirius snorted.

“An Animagus, yes. Put simply, I can become a dog whenever I want.”

“Does that need a potion or a spell or something?” Dennis asked curiously.

“To  _ become _ an Animagus, yes. After the initial rituals, you can do it… whenever you want. I can do it right now, want to see?” Sirius asked, grinning.

“By all means, must be a hell of a party trick!” Valerie replied, as Sirius pushed his chair out and stood, holding his arms out to demonstrate as Hermione watched intently. Silently, and with only a veneer of green magic, Sirius’ magical core pushed out and, bathed by her glasses’ light, Ariadne watched her godfather and everything on his person morph into a large dog. His ears were a little tattered, and his fur a bit ruffled, as he sat, his tongue lolling as he panted happily. “Oh my god he really can become a dog! What are you, a black German Shepherd?” Ariadne collapsed into laughter as Sirius’ canine head nodded.

Of  _ course _ her godfather, best friend to Remus “Wolfy Son of Wolf” Lupin and Animagus whose form was a big black dog would be called Sirius Black. Sirius, otherwise known as Canis Major or the Dog Star. Sirius “Big Black Dog” Black.  _ How many more wizards have pun names? _ she wondered as Sirius stood and dragged a slice of pizza off his plate in his mouth. After wolfing down the pizza, Sirius morphed back into his regular shape to a round of applause from the Grangers.

“That’s amazing!” Dennis exclaimed. “Do they teach that at Hogwarts?”

“Not in the main curriculum, but seventh year NEWT students are allowed to attempt it in Transfiguration,” Sirius replied, sitting back down. “We er, we did it without telling anyone in our fourth year, to support Remus, you know.”

“Maybe you girls could try that,” Valerie said, smiling. “You’re certainly smart enough.” Hermione laughed in a knowing way. “What?”

“It was, shall we say… extremely illegal,” Sirius said quietly, tapping his nose. After Valerie had immediately retracted her statement, the family kept chatting with Sirius for a couple of hours. Eventually, Hermione excused herself to go do some research on a “personal matter,” and the topic shifted to become embarrassingly focused on Ariadne. Her parents explained, in as much detail as she was comfortable, the story of her life after them having adopted her, and the circumstances they’d found her in. She could have sworn Sirius had almost been growling at the description of the state she was in.

\--

> _ Ron, _
> 
> _ Sorry for waiting - Sirius was over today, so we didn’t have time to actually write much. We’re glad to hear your second full moon went better, and that was very sweet of Ginny. Remus did mention you were healthy looking as a wolf, but you were a bit delirious and bloody at the time. We do want to know what you look like as a wolf, but if you’re sure you don’t want us to spend the nights with you on full moons, then that’s your decision and we’ll respect it. Just remember, you can always change your mind. We’re here for you, no matter what. _
> 
> _ We did put together some name suggestions for your wolf: _
> 
> _ Canis Rufus is the name of the breed of wolf you sound like you look like, so I (Hermione) suggest Rufus. I looked through some mythology for you, but honestly, most wolves in mythology aren’t very nice, let alone the werewolves. _
> 
> _ I (Ariadne) think Red or Blue could be nice. Red for your fur and hair, as well as a sneaky Little Red Riding Hood reference. Or Blue, because lycanthropy looks blue to me. _
> 
> _ Looking forward to seeing you at the World Cup. Let us know what we smell like, if you feel like it. We will be bringing Sirius though, so be careful what you say. He does know Remus is helping a new wolf, but he doesn’t know anything more than that Remus is proud of you for doing so well. _
> 
> _ With Love (since we’re your pack now, you big sentimental puppy), _
> 
> _ Ariadne and Hermione. _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all can have a consequence free fluff chapter, just for fun.


	112. All the Better to Hear You With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers, Weasleys and Sirius set on their way to the Quidditch World Cup of 2004.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Misgendering & accidental coming-out

> _ There were colours. Incomprehensible colours, colours Ariadne couldn’t make sense of. But yet even as the unidentifiable bright blob was covered, she so too knew exactly what it was. It was a fire, on a stovetop. Was that a stovetop? A kettle on a stovetop. She was making tea, but it wasn’t her moving. She was watching. _
> 
> _ There was another light, as the colours blurred together. A window in the old house. How did she know that? What house? _
> 
> _ “Bloody kids,” she said angrily, but it was not her voice, as the colours started moving, too much for her to keep track of. Could she see? Was this what it was like to be able to see, she wondered as a shiny speck was taken off the wall. A ring of keys and a torch. Suddenly, she flicked the torch on and bright light cascaded into the chaos, shifting and rolling as she walked from her house to the old manor on the hill. She was its caretaker? _
> 
> _ The house was dusty and old. Cobwebs - was that what cobwebs looked like? - spread from the old grandfather clock as the white blooming of the torch burned into the darkness of the old manor. No-one had been here in years, but a light was on upstairs. The neighbourhood kids must have gotten in. Had they started a fire? _
> 
> _ “How fastidious you are, alchemist. As I recall, you once called the nearest dark alleyway home. Could it be that the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you?” someone said as she reached the top of the stairs. There was a light in a door, spilling out into the hallway, and she turned off the torch. _
> 
> _ “Of course not, my Lord Voldemort. I merely ponder, for our ease, whether it is possible without the boy-” another voice said, a figure standing in front of a chair. _
> 
> _ “No!” the first voice rebuked. “The boy is everything! It cannot be done without him! And it will be done. Exactly as I said,” it exclaimed, rasping for breath as another person knelt before it. Was that another person? Yes, it was. He was wearing a leather coat. How did she know that? _
> 
> _ “I will not disappoint you, my Lord,” the second said. Strange game, these kids were playing. _
> 
> _ “Good. First, gather our old comrades. Send them a, a sign.” Suddenly, the colours blurred again, and something long and shiny was there. A snake? Whatever it was, it slithered into the room and coiled on the chair the two had been so reverent of. _
> 
> _ “Nagini tells me the old Muggle caretaker is standing just outside the door!” the raspy voice exclaimed. The first figure blurred into the doorway, grinning evilly as she reared back. “Step aside, friend, so I can give our guest a proper greeting!” She backed up, scared. “ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ” _

“Ariadne! Ariadne!” Hermione exclaimed as Ariadne’s eyes jumped open and she half sat up, her scar burning and her face covered in sweat. “Are you all right?”

“Ugh…” Ariadne groaned, as her magic sense bloomed back into focus and she sensed the core of her sister standing over her in the ever so slight red and purple of her room. “Bad dream,” she explained, confusion racking her brain as there was a snapping noise outside. “That’ll be Sirius, come on, get dressed. We need to get going,” Hermione urged, quickly leaving the room as Ariadne hurriedly pulled her glasses out of their case, bathing the room in blue. That had been a  _ weird _ dream, she thought as she pulled on her new favourite dress and jacket for the occasion. She could never see in her dreams and nightmares, at least only rarely, and on those occasions she’d dream of the Dursley house, as a toddler. She’d never seen a kettle like that, or a stovetop from above, nor the old house she’d dreamt of. And Voldemort was there?

It  _ had  _ been a dream, right?

“Morning, Ariadne!” Sirius called as she stepped out of her room, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she finished stuffing her pajamas into her bag, the phoenix and thunderbird dangling beside each other. “Your mum says we’ll be taking breakfast with the Weasleys, just got to Floo over. Looking forward to it?” he added. He was wearing a similar outfit to what he’d worn to dinner on the eighth, but the backpack he was wearing was distinctly Muggle and making it a rather discordant appearance.

“Good morning, Sirius,” Ariadne replied, as her stomach rumbled. “Yeah.”

“All right, you’ve got everything? Got your ticket?” Valerie asked, taking her shoulder as she arrived beside her from the bathroom. Ariadne nodded, fishing the card ticket out of her pocket. “Good, okay, let’s go. Girls, you first, and then Sirius. It’s The Burrow, Sirius.” Hermione took Ariadne’s hand and the two stepped into the fireplace like they had dozens of times.

“The Burrow,” Hermione said, tossing down the glowing powder and throwing Ariadne’s body through a furnace of insanity before she was met with the fungal core of Ronald Weasley immediately hugging her.

“Ariadne! Hermione!” Ron cried into her shoulder.

“Woah!” Ariadne exclaimed as her glasses pulsed to reveal the boy. Arthur, sitting at the table, laughed. “Hey Ron!”

“He’s been bouncing off the walls all week,” Arthur chuckled as Ron released her and immediately enveloped Hermione, who spluttered in surprise.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered bashfully as he stepped back. “Haven’t seen you in ages, I missed you. Oh yeah, happy birthday ‘Adne! Nice dress.”

“Thanks, Mum says it suits my figure. We missed you too, what’ve you been up to?” Ariadne said, smiling warmly. “Other than, well,” she added, before Sirius burned into being behind them and Arthur stood up. “Oh! Ron, this is Sirius, Sirius, this is Ron.”

“It’s good to meet you, Ron. The girls speak very highly of you,” Sirius said warmly, taking the boy’s hand and shaking it.

“Nice to meet you too, Sirius!” Ron replied eagerly, smiling widely, before yawning. Ariadne smiled bemusedly at him - he’d never been that enthusiastic about new people before.

“I’m Arthur, his dad. Those are the twins, Fred and George, only Ariadne can really tell them apart, that’s Ginny, and this is their mother, Molly,” Arthur said, offering his own hand as Valerie and Dennis popped through and the twins shuffled down the stairs.

“Good to meet you all, boy there are a lot of you,” Sirius marvelled as he peered into the kitchen and frowned slightly to see Molly manning several pans of what smelled like bacon and eggs.

“This isn’t even all of them! Percy’s off in London, Bill’s probably in Egypt or something and Charlie’s in Romania!” Molly called. “It’s nice to meet you, I believe my brothers knew you through the Order?”

“ _ That _ ’s why I recognize you! You’re Fabian and Gideon’s sister, aren’t you, may they rest in peace?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Yes, I think we met briefly. Go sit down everyone, this is all ready,” Molly said, flapping her hands at them. Ariadne sat down beside Ginny, smiling at her as Ginny looked approvingly at her dress. 

“You’re incredible, Molly,” Arthur said, kissing Molly on the cheek as she came past with plates.

“Well, they’re going to have to endure  _ your _ cooking later, so I thought they should have something good before you go,” Molly teased, patting his arm.

“Do you have a dog, Arthur?” Sirius asked, gently frowning and sniffing as he ate. Ron’s eyes went slightly wide as Sirius looked at Arthur and the twins looked at each other.

“Hmm?” Arthur feigned surprise. “Oh, no, there’s just Red. He comes and he goes, must be someone in the neighbourhood’s. Haven’t seen him in a few weeks though. How’d you know?” Ariadne smiled slightly at the veiled answer as Ron relaxed a bit.

“Animagus, good nose,” Sirius replied. “Nowhere near as good as Remus’, but handy.” Arthur nodded.

“Need to do a better job cleaning up if you can still smell him!” the Weasley joked. “What have I said about skimping on your chores, boys?” The twins cackled as Ariadne tucked into her bacon and eggs.

“Maybe he’s just been visiting while you’re out, smells a bit more recent,” Sirius said, clearly thinking about something.  _ He knows _ , Ariadne thought, worried. Ron was also worried, going off how quickly he’d gone from eager to almost hiding as he ate and his magic fluctuated. She knew he’d be fine with it, and presumably Ron did too, but that didn’t change that it was Ron’s choice and he didn’t want people finding out.

“Dear lord would you look at the time!” Arthur exclaimed through a mouthful. “I thought it was earlier! Don’t want to be late, come on everyone!” Ariadne hurriedly took a final bite of egg and got up from her chair, as Ron took a whole handful of bacon and shoved it into his mouth, and Ginny snorted. As the family said goodbye to Molly, who wasn’t particularly interested in Quidditch, the Grangers stepped out into the warm summer morning, birdsong filling the air as Arthur led them toward the orchard.

“Where are we actually going?” Ariadne asked as the adults took the lead and the girls joined Ron and Ginny trailing behind.

“Dunno,” Ron shrugged. “Hey Dad! Where are we going?” he called as they reached the treeline and Fred raised a tall flask of tea to his mouth ahead of them.

“Haven’t the foggiest! Keep up, you lot!” Arthur replied, as Ron shook his head.

“Oh all right,” Ron mumbled as he sprung forward a little to close the growing gap. He’d really never been a morning person, but he definitely had more energy than usual. Then again, the last time Ariadne had been around him, he’d been bedridden, so maybe she was imagining it.

“Oh yeah. Red?” Ariadne asked quietly. Ron nodded.

“Liked it,” Ron replied. “Ginny wanted to call him Spot,” he added, shaking his head at his sister.

“Just what is wrong with Spot?” Ginny protested, turning to face Ron and walking backward. “It’s a perfectly normal name for a dog!”

“He’s not spotty is what!” Ron exclaimed, immediately falling silent as Sirius looked back to them. “Can he bloody smell me?” he hissed to Ariadne as Sirius looked away. She nodded.

“Yeah, his Animagus form is a dog, remember?” Ariadne replied.

“I didn’t know Animagus traits carried over as well, was that in the book you got out?” Hermione asked curiously, adjusting her bag.

“Yes, but not as much as pu-ff-for-for puppy-dog here. Oh yeah, what do-what do-what do we smell like?” Ariadne replied quietly, smiling at Ron and ruffling his hair, and he snorted at her description of him.

“Okay, yeah,” Ron said, chuckling and leaning over to Hermione, sniffing at her. “Hm.. Mint and books…” He leaned closer to Ariadne and smelled her, before drawing back, frowning. “You smell like magic. Must be your glasses and everything.”

“Magic has a smell?” Ariadne asked quizzically as a cicada made Hermione grimace.

“It’s like… it’s kinda like when Dad blows stuff up with wires in the shed. Burny, like lightning,” Ron replied, half jumping over a large root.

“That’s appropriate,” Hermione said, pointing at Ariadne’s forehead before looking at a nearby tree. “Is that your doing?” she asked, nodding to it. Ron looked away.

“Red’s,” Ron said simply. “What? It’s better than scratching  _ myself _ up, I don’t want any more of these. Mum had to replace the bloody couch!” he hissed, pointing at his nose before looking up suddenly. “Someone’s climbing a tree.” He must have had a scar across his nose, from when he’d ‘ _ torn his own snout open _ .’

“Are we meeting with someone?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“Who knows?” Ron asked, before a voice she didn’t recognize spoke up as they rounded toward a large, wide tree.

“Arthur!” The Weasley patriarch raised a hand in greeting. “It’s about time, son!” A figure with blue and gold magic stepped forward from under a branch with a walking stick.

“Sorry, Amos! Some us had a bit of a sleepy start!” he replied pointedly as Ron yawned. “This is Amos Diggory, everyone. Works with me at the Ministry.” Ron’s gaze followed what fell out of a tree right beside Amos, a similarly blue and gold magical core corresponding to a slightly taller man, who Ariadne recognized. “And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?”

“Yes, sir,” Cedric replied, shaking his hand. “This way,” he added, turning.

“Merlin’s Beard!” Amos exclaimed as Hermione made an impressed face, which Ginny shared. “You’re Sirius Black!” Black laughed.

“Nice to meet you too, Amos. The reports of my murderous nature have been wildly exaggerated, I assure you. You think I’m a surprise, that’s my goddaughter. Ariadne Granger,” Sirius chuckled, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. Amos gaped at her.

“My word! Oh! Oh you must be the Grangers! Great, great pleasure! Muggles, aren’t you?” Amos cried, hurriedly shaking her parents’ hands.

“Yes, yes we are. Dennis, Valerie,” Valerie told him. “We’ve never seen a Quidditch game, but Ariadne plays on her House team,” she added proudly.

“And she’s very good at it!” Hermione called as they walked, following Cedric as Ariadne hung her head, blushing.

“Yeah, she won the Cup this year,” Cedric too added.

“I promise you, you’re going to  _ love  _ Quidditch,” Amos assured her parents, before launching into an explanation of the rules. Ariadne smiled as her parents were amazed and bewildered by it, as Sirius joined in on the explanations. Eventually, they stepped out of the orchard, the birds chirruping ever more, and began ascending a hill. Ariadne was glad of her glasses, even if she did trip a few times as the long grasses brushed her largely bare legs.

“Yes, it’s uh, it’s just over there!” Amos called as Ginny ran up to a glimmer of turquoise on the top of the hill.

“Shall we?” Arthur called loudly. “We don’t want to be late!”

“Come on, nearly there now. Get yourself into a good position,” Amos said as Ginny circled it and the Weasleys all gathered around what Ariadne realized was a magical boot standing there as she frowned.

“Why are we all standing around this dirty old boot?” Valerie asked quizzically as they approached it. Ariadne gasped.

“Is that a Portkey?!” she exclaimed.

“Right you are, Ariadne!” the twins replied in unison as everyone started crouching around it, squeezing into a big huddle. Ariadne knelt on the ground as her father frowned.

“Time to go!” Arthur called.

“What’s a Portkey?” Dennis asked, kneeling beside her and following the group to touch the boot as Ariadne grabbed the loop at the top of its leg.

“Ready! After three. One. Two…” Amos declared loudly, counting down.

“Val!” Sirius exclaimed, noticing Valerie wasn’t touching it. Valerie’s hand clamped down over Ariadne’s as quickly as she could get it there.

“Three!” Amos yelled, and with a rushing sound, Ariadne found the group immediately surrounded by a bubble not unlike that of the Time Turners, but in the same turquoise shade that inhabited the boot, which only got brighter and brighter with an almost electric sound. Hermione gasped as Arthur and Amos started laughing joyfully. The sensation was not unlike a gentler, but dizzying version of the Apparation Professor McGonagall had pulled them through on Hermione’s eleventh birthday so long ago, but she only had so much time to contemplate it before there was a thudding SLAM and she was thrown from the Portkey, to be met with - once her glasses had pulsed - another rolling hill as she was blown onto the ground. Arthur, Amos and Cedric had all somehow gotten to their feet already, as Cedric offered her an arm and Valerie stood up. Taking the arm offered, Cedric helped her to her feet, and she quickly thanked him.

“I’ll bet that cleared your sinuses eh?” Arthur said gleefully, as he helped Dennis up.

“All the better to smell you with,” Ron groaned, getting to his feet as Arthur began walking up a bank, followed by the rest of the troupe. Off in the distance, off what appeared to be the edge of a cliff, Ariadne sensed broomstick-riders fly overhead as they crested the hill and she was greeted by perhaps the most magical place she’d ever sensed outside of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley.

“Go on, look at that!” Amos marvelled as Sirius beamed. What must have been thousands of magical tents were lined in rows and rows and rows, broomsticks hurtled overhead as figures on giant stilts stepped through the roads created. Before them lay a wide thoroughfare bristling with people as a wide grin filled her face. Valerie and Dennis were both stunned, gaping at the scene that lay before them.

“Well kids, Grangers. Welcome to the Quidditch World Cup!” Arthur declared before setting his way onward toward the joyous music and magical chaos that was the campground. Jugglers with dozens of enchanted balls, stalls and entertainers lined the ‘streets’ just as much as campers and tents, as Ariadne noticed chimneys on a number of tents, flags draping from many of them and one even had a wind compass at its peak. Broomsticks wooshed overhead as Ron looked around in glee and Ginny excitedly pointed out a glowing tent being erected using magic. The crowd gasped and cheered as a group of three flew dangerously close overhead, the third clearly underskilled.

“Keep up, girls!” Arthur called, as Valerie and Dennis had trouble speeding up with how much they were gazing around in wonder.

“How  _ do  _ they even keep all this a secret?! There must be thousands of witches and wizards here!” Dennis exclaimed.

“A lot of magic!” Ariadne replied excitedly. “I can see a lot of rings a few kilometres away, must be a lot of illusions and wards on it.”

“Blimey!” Amos exclaimed as another broomstick nearly clipped their heads. “Parting of the ways, I think, old chap!”

“See you at the match!” Arthur replied, patting Amos on the back as he and Cedric departed down a thinner ‘alleyway’. The Weasleys, Grangers and Sirius instead followed Arthur down another as the man counted alleys and signs, before he turned onto one and led them toward an undecorated, but very much bristling with magic, tent.

“Home sweet home!” Arthur declared, pulling the flap open.

“What?” Dennis murmured, frowning as Sirius and the twins leaned down and stepped in. Ariadne grinned.

“There’s more to the tents than meets the eye, Dad,” she told him. “They’re magiced up to the nines,” she smiled as she stepped into what she was completely unsurprised to know was a much larger interior than the exterior of the tent. Valerie and Dennis almost yelled in surprise to see the cavernous inside, which draped around them from tall poles.

“Girls! Choose a bunk and unpack, you three are over there. Boys, other side of the tent please,” Arthur called. Ariadne followed Hermione and Ginny over as Hermione pointed out the bunks and chucked a pillow at Ginny to claim the top bunk on the right. Ariadne hurriedly went to throw her bag up onto the other top bunk, but was beaten to it by Ginny, so she reluctantly deposited her bag onto the lower bunk under Hermione. “Ron, get out of the kitchen, we’re all hungry!”

“Yeah, get out of the kitchen Ron!” the twins yelled in unison.

“Feet off the table!” Arthur instructed them, as they swung their legs off it before putting them straight back up again as soon as their father turned away.

“Feet off the table!” they repeated jovially.

“Dennis, Valerie, Sirius, we’re over here,” Arthur told the adults. “The game is starting this evening, and god only knows how long it’ll go for, so we’ve got a little while, best get comfy!”

\--

“Snap!” Hermione exclaimed hurriedly, tapping the cards on the floor with her wand before they exploded as Ariadne eyed them from the table. She was unable to play, as the reusable Exploding Snap cards were simply red magic to her, but she enjoyed watching her peers and Sirius rush to prevent them from blowing sparks and smoke into the air. The twins had long since lost catastrophically to Ron, while Hermione was trailing behind both Ron and Ginny, so the twins were sitting on their bed watching, while the parents sat and eagerly discussed the differences between the magical and non-magical worlds. Ron pulled a card, and leaned back - no match, no explosion. Ginny pulled a card, and Ron leapt forward to tap it with his wand.

“Snap!” Ron exclaimed. “Ha!”

“Dammit!” Ginny exclaimed as Sirius groaned.

“That’s the thirtieth point he’s had! Good god Ron!” Sirius cried, before taking a card as well and relaxing slightly. Hermione took one, once again, no match it seemed before it came to Ron’s turn. Reaching for the cards, Ron drew back and threw a hand to his ear as Sirius grimaced. Ariadne frowned as Ron shook his head and reached for another card, putting it on the ground. He’d just reacted and gone to tap it with his wand before he drew back again, groaning as he held a hand to his ears and missed his opportunity as Hermione took advantage of whatever was distracting him and declared another snap.

“Wish they’d cut that out out there” Ron whined Ariadne’s frown ever deepened.

“Yeah, it’s bloody annoying,” Sirius added, nodding at them.

“It’s hurting my ears,” Ron complained.

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked, just as confused as Ariadne. Both Sirius and Ron turned to her, frowning.

“Can’t you hear that?” Sirius asked.

“Hear what?” Hermione asked him, putting her wand down as her frown turned to a face of concern. “Oh no…” she mumbled.

“That bloody whistle they’ve got next tent!” Ron replied darkly.

“Hang on… why can’t they hear it?” Sirius said suddenly.

“Is that- Is that a-?!” Ron spluttered, looking at Sirius, who was himself looking about the tent, as Ron’s magic jumped into panic and Ariadne realized what they could hear.

“That’s… that’s a dog whistle, isn’t it?” Sirius asked seriously. “Why can  _ you  _ hear a dog whistle?” he asked Ron, who buried his face in his hands, groaning as Sirius sniffed the air deeply. “You have something in common with Remus, I’m guessing?” Ron nodded glumly. “I thought one of you might. Smelled you at breakfast, and that five vial case on the counter was Wolfsbane, Remus has an identical one at his place. Are you the one he’s helping?” he asked warmly.

“Yeah,” Ron replied quietly.

“Well, he’s very proud of your progress. At least it was me and not someone else, you’ve got to be careful with whistles,” Sirius told him. “If Red ever needs anyone to run around the orchard with over the holidays, I’ll be glad to see Pigwidgeon on my windowsill,” he added, patting Ron on the back. “ _ Comes and goes _ indeed. No wonder you’re destroying us, there’s a reason we never let Remus play, your reflexes are nuts,” he said, as Ron smiled smugly.

“Thought you’d figure it out sooner or later,” Arthur said, stepping over. “The match is starting in an hour, let’s get going eh?”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one ran *loooooooooong*, but that’s because I wasn’t including the dream in the word count. And so we well and truly get into Goblet of Fire!


	113. Let the Match Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers attend their first ever professional Quidditch game, but Ariadne is a little distracted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops I forgot to have Hermione be stimming in the last few chapters bc they were very Ron focused. We return to your regularly scheduled autistic!Hermione, to complement our werewolf!Ron.  
> TW: Outing? It doesn't go badly, but it's there.

Stepping out of the enchanted tent, they were quickly inundated in the throng of what had to be tens of thousands of witches, wizards and their non-magical families all making their way toward what Ariadne realized was not in fact just another rolling hill caught by her glasses, but the stadium itself dug into the hills around it with at least five great tunnels bored into the slope to act as its entrance. The Grangers were definitely not the  _ only _ non-magical people there, however the characteristic magic-flecked grey figures were fairly rare among the crowd. 

Ariadne was a little bemused by Valerie’s immediate decision to hold her hand the entire time after Arthur had urged the Grangers to stick together and not get lost in the crowd - she was, after all, fifteen years old as of that day, a fact she’d almost forgotten with the preparations for the match. She wasn’t exactly little anymore. Still, at least it helped make sure she didn’t stick it in the mud of the trampled fields and ruin the button-up dress she’d been given for her legal birthday; she was told it was light pink, with a black bow around the waist and semitransparent shoulders with no sleeves, and the slightly poofy skirt reached just past her knees. She was also wearing an old jacket she was definitely starting to outgrow, which, if she remembered right, was allegedly purple but probably fading by now. She wasn’t sure she’d need the jacket, with the summer warmth making her sweat a bit, but she’d kept it on just in case she got cold in the Top Box.

She was also significantly more overdressed than her sister, her parents, or any of the Weasleys in their casual clothes and hoodies, but at least Sirius was just as overdressed in his fancy-ish suit, and the pair had forgone the face paint and giant stereotypical leprechaun hats that Ron, Ginny and the twins were wearing. Hermione had initially wanted to get some green and white face paint to support Ireland, but had found it immediately triggering of her sensory issues, and washed what little she’d had off, while Ron had joked that it was appropriate for him to support the “Red” team, Bulgaria, and gotten the according stripes on his own cheeks and nose. Hermione did however carry a small flag as well as the pair of binoculars Dennis had dug out of the garage for her. Ron and Ginny both carried pairs of enchanted Omnioculars Ariadne had bought for them on the way, something the twins had been jealous of as Ariadne said she was running out of pocket money too quickly to get them any.

“Are you all right, Sirius?” Ariadne asked as they approached the tunnels and Sirius started to look a little uneasy, as Hermione stimmed anxiously with her free hand, waving the flag about.

“Yes, I’m… I’m all right, I just haven’t been in a crowd in a long time,” Sirius replied from behind her as they entered the tunnel. “Last time I was, Peter murdered twelve Muggles and framed me for it.” Ariadne grimaced, noticing there were a few people around muttering to each other that Sirius Black was attending. At least they didn’t seem hostile, as they shook their heads at his unworthy imprisonment.

“Are the echoes hurting your ears too?” Ron asked Hermione, who had covered her ears as soon as they’d entered the tunnel. Hermione nodded. “Same,” Ron grumbled, holding up a hand to offer a high five which was very quickly accepted before Hermione’s hand once again found the side of her head.

“I’ve never seen the wizarding world this diverse,” Valerie said, smiling. “Nice to know that it’s just magic Britain that’s culturally stagnant.” Sirius snorted.

“You’ve no idea. My family, all of them blood purists. I was the black sheep of the Blacks. My mother  _ hated _ that I had Muggle pin-ups on my walls, and not even because they were pin-ups and not all girls, because they were Muggles!” Sirius replied as Dennis frowned incredulously at him. “They’re all too obsessed with keeping a pointless standard here. They’re worse in America, but most elsewhere they’re a lot more… chill.”

“Not all girls?” Ariadne asked pointedly, smiling at her godfather, who barked in laughter. “I didn’t know you were bisexual?”

“I dunno. Didn’t exactly have time to figure out my sexuality, there was a war on and then I got sent to Azkaban almost straight out of Hogwarts you know,” Sirius replied. “But I’ll admit I snogged Remus a few times, he was a cute bugger at sixteen. Just you wait ‘till Ronny here gets a little older,” he said suggestively, raising an eyebrow and smirking as Hermione looked away and Ron spluttered. “There’s just something about an unassuming lad in a cardigan who can lift you with one hand, you know?” he sighed as they neared the wizard taking tickets, who took Arthur’s.

“Party of… ten with Arthur Weasley for the Top Box, up the stairs and all the way up,” the wizard said, pointing Arthur up before a small golden-glowing pillar beeped at the approach of Valerie and Dennis. “Ah, two Muggle party members, I’ll just exempt you from the Muggle-Repelling charms,” he noted, waving his wand over Ariadne’s parents with a blue shimmer.

“Oh, thank you,” Dennis said awkwardly before the party started up the stairs. The tunnel hadn’t led to the bottom of the stadium, like Ariadne had expected, but the middle, as she stood in awe of what little of it she could sense from their position in the structure - it was  _ gigantic _ . Far larger than the Quidditch stadium at Hogwarts, to the point she was seriously wondering if one could fit Hogwarts  _ Castle  _ within it.

“Is this like what you’ve got at school?!” Dennis exclaimed as they climbed. “It’s huge, you can hardly see the bottom!”

“This is way bigger!” Ariadne almost had to yell over the crowd. “You can walk around Hogwarts’ one in five minutes!”

“Blimey Dad!” Ron cried as he leant eagerly on a railing. “How far up are we?!” he exclaimed as Ariadne’s face went white, a magical core she recognized all too well striding along the platform below them, wearing flowing robes, carrying a cane Ariadne knew from experience contained his wand, with his son who was wearing a suit behind him.

“Well put it this way,” Lucius Malfoy called disdainfully. “If it rains, you’ll be the first to know,” he said, as Draco smirked beside him. Ariadne could veritably feel the collective eye-rolling of her party, as all but Sirius and her parents dismissed the taunting aristocratic narcissist and Ron sniffed in annoyance.

“Is that who I think it is?” Sirius whispered to Arthur, who nodded.

“Father and I are in the Minister’s box!” Draco called as he and his father resumed their walk along the railed gangway. “By personal invitation of Cornelius Fudge himself!” he added, before his father span around and jammed the butt of his staff into the boy’s sternum.

“Don’t boast, Draco,” Lucius chided him irritably. “There’s no need with these people,” he spat, looking up at them. Ariadne was content to just leave it alone, but Ron, it seemed, had other ideas.

“What the  _ HELL  _ did you just say?!” Ron yelled angrily, his upper lip curling in rage as the entire group spun to look at him in surprise, even Ariadne spinning out of societal reflex despite sensing him no differently. Arthur immediately grabbed Ron by the shoulder and pulled him ahead, as the tiniest smirk twisted its way onto Lucius’ face and his cane caught Arthur’s foot.

“Do keep your dog on its leash, Arthur. Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt, now would we?” Lucius sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm and malice as Ron froze at the horrifying emphasis the Malfoy patriarch put on the word  _ dog _ . “Enjoy yourselves. While you can,” he added menacingly, before releasing Arthur’s foot and sweeping away as Arthur almost pushed Ron up the stairs.

“Why does  _ Lucius fucking Malfoy _ know about me?!” Ron hissed incredulously, his magic jumping about in terror.

“He’s on the school board, I wouldn’t be so surprised,” Arthur told him quietly. “You have  _ got _ to reign that temper in, Ronald, stop swearing so much.”

“He insulted you!” Ron protested angrily.

“Are you saying Lucius Malfoy is friends with the Minister for Magic  _ AND  _ on the Hogwarts Board of Directors?!” Sirius exclaimed. “And he’s got a mini-Malfoy now? What kind of nightmare world did I get released into?”

“Malfoy?” Valerie asked. “Is that… is that the bully that tried to use a leg locky thing on you last year, the one you hit back at him?”

“The same,” Ariadne replied darkly as they started to near the top, frowning as she heard something. It was like a gravelly rumble, and she frowned as she cast her mind about to figure out where it was coming from.

It was coming from  _ Ron _ ?

“Ron!” she hissed. “Ron, stop it!” Ron turned to her quizzically as the noise stopped.

“Huh?”

“You’re growling!” she told him. Ron drew back, frowning.

“Was I?” the boy hesitantly spluttered, his face falling from the anger he’d clearly been bubbling in. “I… I didn’t even notice,” he mumbled, swallowing and looking away.

“It’s okay, just… keep an eye on it in public. You’ve got every right to be angry at Malfoy,” Ariadne said to him, reaching up to pat him on the back. “Besides, who cares what he thinks? It’s the World Cup, we can worry about him later,” she added, smiling at him.

“Yeah. Yeah, who cares? He doesn’t even get a good view down there,” Ron replied as Ariadne sensed Amos Diggory not far away. Now they were higher up, there were far fewer supports blocking her glasses, and Ariadne marvelled at the hordes of magical cores that lined the gigantic stadium.

“Come on up, take your seats! I told you these seats would be worth waiting for!” Amos exclaimed as Ariadne dipped under what she presumed to be one of dozens of huge lamps illuminating the stadium for its sighted inhabitants. The Top Box was less of a box and more simply the highest ring of seats in the stadium, and she was all too aware of the void that was on either side of her as Fred and George yelled eagerly off the edge. She was also very aware of a wing of seven brooms, all mounted by what she presumed to be one of the teams, hurtling toward the stadium from behind them all. All seven brooms appeared very familiar to her as the wind blew her hair about; Firebolts. Eyes widening, Ariadne ducked as they blasted so closely overhead that she swore if she’d jumped she could have grabbed one of them, Hermione screaming before standing back up properly and jumping for joy, waving both her arms in the air elatedly as Ron followed them.

“It’s the Irish! There’s Troy!” Fred yelled as Ariadne’s smile widened as she watched the team swoop up into the air above the stadium.

“And Mullet!” George added, pointing eagerly.

“And Moran!” The team pirouetted one last time before cracks of explosions filled the air and even Ariadne could watch as magical fireworks exploded into beads of light that hurriedly formed into a humanoid image with its hands on its hips, dancing with its feet.

“Hold on, are those  _ actual _ Leprechauns?!” Ariadne cried as she realized just how many thousands of distinct disparately coloured beads there were, all with blue magic holding them up. Ron held his Omnioculars to his eyes, gaping.

“Yeah, I think they are!” Ron yelled back.

“Here come the Bulgarians!” George yelled, as Ariadne noticed flecks of other magic behind the cloud of coordinated Leprechauns, the Irish team coming to a respectful halt after their lap around the stadium and the stands bursting with cheers for Ireland.

“Haha, yes!” Fred added as the Leprechauns scattered with an explosive noise and another seven riders, also all on Firebolts, cannoned through the fleeing swarm accompanied by a heavy drum and brass anthem. The Bulgarian team blew through the Irish team’s formation and swooped around the stadium as their leader in the centre of the cone they’d formed hurtled ahead and seemed to perform a handstand on his still perfectly poised broom before curving back into formation.

“Who’s  _ that _ ?!” Ginny exclaimed from beside Ariadne, pointing at the extravagant player before raising her Omnioculars.

“That, sis, is the best Seeker in the world!” Fred replied happily as the Bulgarian team continued their antics.

“Victor Krum!” Ariadne gasped, as a huge number of supporters started chanting the young Seeker’s name and what appeared to be enchanted banners dropped all over the stadium. “He started younger than I did!”

“KRUM!!!!” the twins yelled in unison as Krum flew into the centre of the stadium to oppose who must have been Irish Seeker Aidan Lynch and the thumping drums and brass drew to a crescendo.

“Good evening!” called the booming voice of one Cornelius Fudge. “As Minister for Magic, it gives me  _ great  _ pleasure, to welcome each and every one of you… to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!” he declared loudly. “Let the match… begin!” he cried, a brilliant yellow spark shooting out from the Minister’s box, the shutters on the protruding box closing, and the players leaping into action as Ariadne struggled to make out the details as Ireland were declared to have acquired possession of the Quaffle - with all the magical cores behind them it was hard to tell.

“What the hell-” Ariadne muttered as the crowd cheered and the entire stadium was suddenly bathed in a purple fog - peering through it, Ariadne could sense that a pair of doors on the Bulgarian side had opened, to let out their mascots as the Leprechaun cloud coordinated into a few dozen smaller versions of the previous image on the other end of the pitch. Were the Bulgarian mascots human? They looked human, going off their magical cores, but as haloed as they were in purple light, there had to be something strange about them as Fred and George whistled enthusiastically. “Woah, woah, what the, why is it-” Ariadne spluttered, facing down at herself as she sensed it permeating her own form and magic, her face going warm as she found herself urged to be impressive. She hadn’t brought her broom, unfortunately - she could match any of those players with ease, she thought.  _ What the- why am I- what?? I’m not a professional Quidditch player, I’d lose in a heartbeat… what is this- _ she spluttered internally as she watched the same happen to almost everyone in her party, save for Valerie and Hermione, as Ron’s attention was suddenly pulled from the chaotic game directly to the figures on the pitch. “Why is- what is this?!” Ariadne exclaimed.

“What’s what, Ariadne?” Sirius asked, also having his attention divided.

“This… cloud! It’s going into me, into everyone except Mum and Herm-” Ariadne was cut off as Sirius began laughing earnestly.

“Oh! That’s one way to come out as a lesbian, Ariadne!” Sirius exclaimed, cackling and patting her shoulders. Ariadne frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked wildly.

“They’re Veela!” Sirius replied. “Guess it’s not just men they affect, long as you like girls!” Ariadne’s face and ears went hot as she realized what was happening. Veela were magical beings capable of charming men, or at least anyone attracted to women, it seemed. That charm effect was what she could sense. She’d have argued it might be affecting her because she was trans and as such physically male, a fact she was extraordinarily conscious of in the moment as she was glad she’d worn a poofy skirt, if it weren’t for a contradictory fact that only made her blush even more as her mother asked what a Veela was.

Ginny, standing right beside her, wasn’t trans, and yet the purple cloud, darker than her suppression bracelet, was tendrilling Ginny’s magical core as the Weasley girl stared at her, mouth agape, before realizing Ariadne had turned slightly toward her and she looked away bashfully, a hand holding the matching Basilisk tooth necklace around her neck as she couldn’t seem to help but smile slightly.

_ Ginny likes girls?! _ Ariadne exclaimed internally as Hermione spluttered.

“That  _ has _ to be illegal!” Hermione cried. “Every single player except for Mullet, Moran, and Ivanova, is a man, statistically they’re probably all heterosexual, that’s a distraction foul! That’s five out of seven of the Irish team!” She was right - every player except for three, whom Ariadne could only identify by the lack thereof as they catapulted through the air, had purple cloud scintillating within them.

Ariadne was a little distracted, however, as she struggled to push through the cloud just to sense the players in the fog, let alone identify them or any of the balls. Had she misinterpreted the look Ginny had shared with Hermione when Cedric had dropped out of the tree that morning?

What if Ginny liked her? Ariadne couldn’t help but immediately wonder as her face remained pink and she smiled slightly as she watched Ginny try to watch the match, her mouth hanging open slightly and her hair blowing in the wind beautifully. Oh how she wanted to just kiss her, to hold her in her arms and never let go. She could. Ginny was right there beside her, and if she did like girls...

_ She probably doesn’t like you like that! _ she exclaimed to herself in her head as she gripped the railing tightly, catching herself leaning ever so slightly toward the reddish yellow and blue girl.  _ Get a grip on yourself! _

The cloud vanished as one of what must have been the Irish Chasers scored a goal - Troy, according to the commentary - the crowd erupted into applause and the Leprechaun clouds seemed to change configuration to taunt the Veela, whose magic had shifted into a more self-directed glimmer of purple and she sensed what looked like red fireballs being slung at the swarms, which only parted to avoid the wrath of the Bulgarian mascots. The urge to be impressive was quelled, but her crush on the slightly taller girl beside her showed no signs of abating.

“I don’t think I even need these!” Ron exclaimed, holding up the Omnioculars Ariadne had bought him. “My eyes are good enough. Hey Fred, George, you wanted a pair,” he marvelled, reaching over and handing the nearest twin the device across Ariadne and Ginny.

“Thanks Ron!” Fred called, taking them and immediately turning his attention the match. Ariadne was having trouble keeping track of the match - not only did she not recognize the players on their identical brooms, but the backdrop of roaring audience only made her lose them in the blur of colours. At Hogwarts, the players were almost always above the stands, so it wasn’t a problem for her, but here, it was almost impossible to track anything happening, not even the Bludgers. She even tried turning off her glasses with a tap of her wand, to see if lacking the stadium’s framework would help, but even then she couldn’t  _ quite _ tell where anything was save for when the great bells chimed and the crowd erupted as Ireland scored point after point after point, with only one being scored by Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova before Ireland only kept scoring.

Ron gasped as the crowd roared.

“That was a Wronski Feint!” Ginny exclaimed, leaning forward over the railing. “Did you sense that, ‘Adne?!” Ariadne leaned forward, gaping confusedly.

“No, I-I-I can’t-I can’t keep track of it with all the magic,” Ariadne lamented. “Which Seeker?”

“Krum! Mediwizards are going for Lynch, hopefully he’s okay!” Ginny replied. “Do you want me to tell you what’s going on, if you can’t tell?” she offered, touching Ariadne’s arm and frantically looking between Ariadne and the game.

“Y-e--y-y-yy-ea--yeah-yea-yes please!” Ariadne replied, flustered a little.

“Okayokayokayokay!” Ginny exclaimed. “Moran’s got the Quaffle, she’s weaving by Dimitrov who’s trying to get her and - OH! Dimitrov just got Bludgered! Moran’s flying up, Moran… MORAN SCORED!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I’d bring ‘em Veela in for some Gay Moments™ lmao.


	114. That's Not the Irish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers get to see the darker side of the wizarding world, not that they enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transphobia and deadnaming.

“Wait, explain it to me again, what happened at the end there?” Dennis asked frowning as he sat down beside Ariadne with one of the kebabs Arthur had made. The entire campground had been just as vibrant as the stadium had been, if only far more filled with chants of  _ Ireland! Ireland! Ireland! _

“Viktor Krum caught the Snitch,” Ariadne explained, holding up a hand. “Tiny ball, about this big. It’s the same thing I do. When one of the Sneekers - Sneakers? Seekers catches the Snitch, the game ends.” The twins were dancing around the centre of the room, spirits high as they danced a jig and sang to the entertainment of the others. Hermione had gone largely nonverbal from the celebrations on the way back, so she was sitting to the side and happily tapping her hands and legs to the twirling song Fred and George were singing, as outside, fireworks and shouts filled the air.

“Wait, but Ireland won? Wouldn’t that mean Bulgaria won?” Dennis asked as Arthur went about the cavernous tent with a candle and lit various lanterns.

“No,” Ariadne told him. “The Snitch is worth one hundred and fifty points, but Ireland were up-were-were up by-by by one hundred and sixty points - that’s why it was one seventy to one sixty. Krum caught the Snitch but Ireland won by ten points.” Dennis sighed in understanding.

“I see… right, so catching the Snitch isn’t a win, but it can get you the win if you’re less than one fifty behind?” Ariadne nodded.

“Pretty short match actually,” Ron added. “Guess Krum thought they were losing too badly so he cut it short.”

“Ireland versus Peru lasted for  _ days _ ,” Ginny marvelled.

“There’s  _ no-one _ like Krum though,” Ron declared, standing as his father went to the tent flap, a particularly loud firework rocking the ground. “He’s-”

“Krum?” Fred moaned in a caveman voice. “Dumb Krum!”

“He caught the Snitch when they were one sixty down, that’s moronic!” Sirius protested. “Bulgaria might still have had a chance!”

“He’s like a bird, the way he rides.. the…” Ron protested, before trailing off as the twins started circling him.

“Dumb Krum!  _ Dumb Krum! _ ” the twins called, as George threw what Ariadne could only presume to be an Irish flag over Ron, who immediately pulled it off as he twitchingly listened.

“We all know you like birds, Ron,” Ginny taunted.

“Shut up,” Ron said, holding his arm out.

“Nah that’s Ariadne!” George added, making Ariadne blanch as Sirius cackled. “Got your Inner Eye on any fluttering wings, my Lady?”

“Hey!” Ariadne exclaimed, her ears heating as she chucked a pillow at George.

“Shut up!” Ron called again, catching the pillow and hitting Fred with it. “Seriously, shut up!” he added as Ariadne started laughing and trying to throw another past him. She frowned, stopping. Ron must have heard something as the boy looked up suddenly at another loud firework.

“What is it, Ron?” Valerie asked, worried.

“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on!” Fred called as his father stepped hurriedly back into the tent.

“Stop!” Arthur barked at Fred and George who hadn’t fulfilled Ron’s order and were still trying to throw things at Ariadne. Ron shook his head. “Stop it!”

“That’s not the Irish,” Ron mumbled, his eyes wide as his father said the exact same thing in unison.

“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Arthur said, taking Ginny’s arm and ushering the Granger parents urgently toward the exit. “Now!” Scattering, Ariadne and Hermione rushed to follow the bewildered troop, her bag still hanging on her shoulder from when they’d arrived.

“What the hell?!” Dennis cried as they shot out of the tent, nearly running into a screaming woman, whose magical core was spiking in terror. This wasn’t a celebration, as screams of fear filled the air and Ariadne’s heartrate shot into the stratosphere.

“Get out, it’s the Death Eaters!” someone yelled as they stood, stunned, at the mouth of the tent before Arthur leapt out with Ginny, immediately giving her to Fred. Death Eaters?! She couldn’t sense any, but she could hear more explosions from her right as Valerie’s hand immediately grabbed hers.

“Get back to the Portkey everybody, and  _ stick together! _ ” Arthur yelled. “Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility. Sirius, get the Grangers back to safety!”

“But I can help!” Sirius yelled, pulling out his wand and looking around for a target.

“No!” Arthur barked, grabbing his arm and pulling his attention back. “The Grangers can’t defend themselves,  _ KEEP THEM SAFE! _ ”

“Got it!” Sirius yelled. “Ariadne, Hermione, Val, Dennis, stay in front of me!” he ordered, shuffling everyone past him by the shoulder as Arthur drew his wand and Valerie and Dennis hurriedly pulled their daughters to follow

“Ron! Put that protectiveness to good use, make sure everyone stays together!” Arthur ordered, as Ron nodded vigorously and more screaming celebrants sprinted past in the dirt, as Ariadne smelled smoke before a troupe of figures came into view in the distance.

All wearing conical hats and robes, masks indented with skulls, wands and what had to be torches in the air, were the Death Eaters, as a roaring field of blue energy formed out of their collective wands. Servants of Voldemort, chanting evilly as Ron grabbed hold of Ariadne’s free arm as well as George’s, forming a chain with Fred at the lead, followed by Ginny and George, linked to that of Ariadne, Valerie, Hermione and Dennis by Ron, whose grip was so tight on her arm Ariadne swore his fingernails might puncture her jacket. Arthur ran off toward the crowd, as a number of who Ariadne recognized as other Ministry officials and Cup security joined him and began trying to push the riot back as the chain fled. Sirius veritably danced behind them, keeping his wand out and poised as Fred and George started frantically leading them away from the Death Eaters and toward where their Portkey had been. He was definitely not dancing, however, as he projected a field of green energy to deflect an angry red fireball back at the mob, who were dangling spectators in the air.

“What the HELL is a Death Eater?!” Valerie screamed as they ran, jostled by other screaming witches and wizards. “Are they a gang of some kind?!”

“Voldemort’s gang, you could say!” Sirius yelled back as he followed them hurriedly. “Seems the rumours of the organization’s demise were greatly exaggerated!” he added. “ _ Protego Maxima! _ ” he cried, a giant shield locking over the path they’d just run down, luckily with nobody behind them but Death Eaters.

SLAM

Ariadne was flat on the trampled, muddy ground as the chain split, as she tripped and almost pulled Ron down with her he was holding her so tightly. It was less than a second before the unnaturally strong - especially for his size - boy had yelled and pulled her back up and Valerie’s hand wrapped once more around hers.

“You okay, dear?!” Valerie cried. Ariadne nodded vigorously as she felt her glasses had been slightly twisted by the impact, but not so damaged as to be rendered nonfunctional.  _ That _ would have been a disaster, it was all that was letting her keep any kind of pace with the others and her cane would  _ not _ have helped even if she’d brought it. She was glad she could pay attention to her feet and the crowd at the same time.

“I thought Ariadne killed Voldemort!” Dennis yelled confusedly from behind Hermione in the chain. “I thought he was dead!”

“Keep moving!” Sirius shouted over the commotion, seemingly unwilling to speculate as he frantically checked around them for any more columns of Death Eaters. They were getting ever nearer to where they’d first entered the campground, as explosions shattered tents only a row or two away, their magic flailing destructively as the dimensional magic failed, bags and belongings being thrown into the air as they were jettisoned with filaments of the enchanted tents falling around them. Hermione and Ginny screamed as the group ran into a crossroads, another group of Death Eaters striding down it confidently as they chucked a stunning jinx straight at Ron, who’d hurriedly shoved Ariadne back. The bolt slammed into the boy, before he was surprisingly shoved only a foot backward, his feet digging into the dirt as he shrugged off the jinx and Sirius leapt ahead and shielded them. “GO, GO, GO!” Sirius yelled, patting them all as a count as they ran past him, holding another green sheet between them and the Death Eaters with his wand. “Good thing it takes more than one to take you down, Ronald!”

“Yeah!” Ron yelled back as Ariadne half-tripped, stumbling after them as they ran. “You good, ‘Adne?!”

“I’m fine, keep running!” Ariadne yelled as Valerie helped her stay upright. She could have sworn she’d sensed the core of Lucius Malfoy among the group they’d just escaped for the split second before Sirius had blocked them from her magic sense with the shield charm.

“Nearly there!” George yelled back to them as they reached the wider ‘street’ they’d first walked in through and made a final run for the hillock the Portkey lay just behind. Detaching from the chain, they ran up the hill, where Fred was searching through the dark.

“Where is it?!” Fred exclaimed as Ariadne’s blood ran cold. “Ariadne, can you sense it?!”

“Nn-nn-nonnono-no!” Ariadne replied. “It’s not here!” Nowhere along the blue-illuminated space before the cliff edge could she sense the turquoise glowing boot, as she stood at the top of the rise. Hundreds of once magical tents had disappeared from her sense, and while she couldn’t ‘see’ the destruction, she could hear it and smell it. Fires crackled all over the campground, and smoke permeated the air as screams echoed out over the hills and another tent exploded into magical smithereens a ways away as multicoloured bursts marked the Death Eaters’ assault

“Someone else must have taken it!” George yelled back. “We can’t get back!” he added, as Ginny flailed on the spot and soon found Ariadne’s arm and clung to her.

“What do we do?!” Dennis cried, spinning about. “We can’t go back in there, but we’re on a cliff!”

“Okay, okay!” Sirius exclaimed, leaning up and looking about. “Okay, it looks like most of the Death Eaters are over on the left that way, not many on the right anymore! If we run along the cliff to the right past the campground, we should be clear!”

“Got it! Okay, come on, Ginny!” Fred yelled, taking Ginny’s other arm and dragging her and Ariadne as Sirius started leading the group. The gap between the edge of the campground and the edge was almost fifty metres wide and largely clear, and Ariadne found herself on the campground’s side of the group, avoiding the cliff for fear of falling off it, as Sirius remained closest to it, staying alert.

“Isn’t there any security?!” Dennis yelled as they ran. “How did this happen?!”

“Loads!” Ron replied.

“It’s the most secure event in the wizarding world, this shouldn’t happen!” Sirius snarled back, before yelling as a pair of Death Eaters torched a tent nearby and he chucked stunners at them, Ariadne’s magic sense bursting with colours as he took them down without even incanting a single spell, simply waving his wand and causing the spells to burst forth wordlessly. “Come on, we’re nearly there!”

“Who’s that?” Ginny exclaimed, pointing toward a familiar magical core who was leaning on the skeletal remains of a burnt out tent and laughing. Draco Malfoy.

“Look who it is!” Draco called jovially as they neared him and slowed down. “Isn’t this fun? They’re looking for Muggles and freaks,  _ Harry Potter _ .” Ariadne glared at him furiously. “D’you wanna be showing off your cock in midair? Because if you do, hang around, they might come back, it’d be a hoot!” Ron immediately started loudly growling at him, his lips curling as he involuntarily bared his teeth, and Draco spluttered and stepped back in fear of him. If Lucius somehow hadn’t told him, he knew now.

“HOW  _ DARE _ YOU SPEAK THAT WAY TO MY DAUGHTER?!” Valerie yelled, only making him step back more. “YOU DISGUSTING BIGOTED LITTLE HORROR! If I wasn’t a Muggle!”

“Where’s your father, huh, mini-Malfoy?” Sirius snarled. “Out there in a skull mask, I’d suppose?”

“Pretty-pretty sure I saw him,” Ariadne added snidely. “Can’t hide from me with a mask.”

“How dare you!” Draco spat. “My father is  _ not _ a Death Eater, he was forced! It’s a matter of public-”

“Like  _ shit  _ he wasn’t!” Sirius shouted. “I watched him kill for Voldemort, a smile on his face, with my own eyes, don’t you try tell  _ me  _ he was coerced!” he added as Draco ran off into the campground at the sudden ferocity of the man.

“C’mon!” Fred called, pulling Ariadne away as Sirius continued moving. “We’re nearly there!” At that point, Ariadne could sense no more magical tents, and as far as she could tell, no more Death Eaters. There weren’t any more people she could sense in the campground itself, but a small number were milling around where they were going.

Correction.

One person, with a blue and gold magical core, stepping through the wreckage of the campsite and wearing a long coat. They were too far from her to make out any details, but he didn’t seem to be any of the Ministry officials.

“Who’s that?” Ron asked, pointing at the person as they slowed down a little.

“ _ MORSMORDRE! _ ” the person bellowed, thrusting their wand into the air as a colossal structure of blue and white glitter exploded into her magic sense above the campground with a roaring scream. Ariadne’s forehead blistered with agony all of a sudden as she screamed, falling to the ground as the others yelled in surprise. Screams filled the campground, as the soundscape was suddenly dominated by the characteristic whip-cracks of disapparations. 

“Ariadne!” Dennis cried, kneeling by her side as she held her hands to her head, sitting up. “Are you all right?!”

“What  _ is  _ that?!” Ariadne exclaimed, pointing up at the structure which, from its size, must have been in the clouds.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Ariadne,  _ his _ mark!” Hermione replied as Ariadne stood slowly.

“What?” Ariadne spluttered. Hermione was right - she couldn’t sense any detail, but she could tell where the image of a snake was filtering out of the skull’s mouth, going off how Hermione had described it when she’d read about the Mark. It was a heinous crime to cast it, considered a terrorist attack on its own even without the riots.

“There’s Dad!” Ron exclaimed, as more cracks filled the air and Ariadne sensed a number of magical cores Apparate nearby where they must have seen the Mark be conjured from. “Over here, Dad!” he cried, jumping and waving his arms. It wasn’t long before Arthur, as well as a few others, were scurrying over.

“Ron! Ginny, Fred, George, Grangers, Sirius!” Arthur called, counting them. “Oh thank god you’re all safe. I thought I told you all to go back to the Portkey?!”

“Wasn’t there,” Ron told him as he stepped closer, Arthur’s eyes going a little wider as he approached and his brow almost imperceptibly furrowed. “Someone else got it.” Arthur groaned as he turned to face his party. Sirius stepped back, almost shocked, as he looked at one of them, a man in a long cloak with a hat on.

“My family, and the Grangers,” Arthur said, turning in front of Ron to face the man. “Couldn’t Portkey out, apparently.”

“Did any of you see anything?!” the man in the hat almost yelled, his wand shaking at his side. “Anything at all?!”

“Yeah, there was uh, there was a man! Over there-ish, he cast it!” Ron replied, pointing into the campground as Ariadne nodded.

“I-I-I -I could sense him too,” Ariadne piped up. “Didn’t recognize him though. Ugh...” she groaned, holding a hand to her scar, which was still stinging.

“Where’d the… the Eaters, the Death Eaters go?” Valerie spluttered.

“Disapparated out as soon as the Mark appeared, got spooked,” Arthur replied. Ariadne’s eyes widened. The Dark Mark, during the war, was usually only sent up to signify one specific thing.

“Wait…” she murmured. “Did they kill someone?!” she exclaimed, her parents gasping in horror as they turned to her suddenly.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out right now, Ariadne. I’ve got to get these ones home, I’ll see you tomorrow, Barty,” Arthur said, gesturing to the party. Ariadne frowned as she noticed he was making an effort to stay between ‘Barty’ and Ron.

“Understood,” Barty said, turning to his troupe. “The rest of you, follow me!” he called, spinning before he caught a glimpse of Sirius. The man stared at him, as Sirius met his gaze with tangible contempt, before turning away and jogging into the campground once more.

“Bartemius Crouch,” Sirius spat. “That’s the man who sent me to Azkaban without a trial.”

“What?!” Dennis hissed. “ _ Without a trial?! _ ”

“Merlin, I hope Crouch wasn’t on the right angle to see that,” Arthur groaned as soon as he was sure Crouch was out of earshot, turning to Ron.

“See what?” Ron asked.

“Your eyes are still reflective,” his father replied quietly, pointing to him.

“Wha-?” Ron spluttered. “But it’s nowhere near-”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying what I can see right now,” Arthur said. “Come on, we need to go and get another Portkey to go home arranged.”

“Mister Lupin’s eyes aren’t reflective, why are Ron’s?” Hermione asked curiously, confirming it as Ron dipped his head self-consciously.

“They used to be,” Sirius said, frowning as they followed Arthur along the cliff. “Are they not anymore?” Hermione shook her head. “Must not be taking as much care of himself as I thought, I’ll have to talk to him about that when I see him next. Everyone all right, no injuries?” he asked the Grangers.

“Yeah…” Dennis said, shakily. “I think it was just Ron who got hit and he’s… I guess he can take that now?”

“His condition has its few perks, yes,” Sirius replied. “Ugh, you guys’ first proper wizarding event and this happens. I promise, we’re not this violent usually,” he lamented. “Oh, that dress is gonna be ruined if we don’t do something.  _ Scourgify… Reparo _ ,” he noted, turning to Ariadne and bathing her in a red cone and evaporating the mud she could feel drying on her cheek from when she’d tripped over and a tear in the skirt got mended. “You know, it’s a shame we could never retrieve Lily’s wardrobe, she had some lovely dresses she’d have loved for you to have when you’re older.” Sirius kept trying to cheer them up as they went about the impromptu organizational area the Ministry had set up outside the campground, Ron hiding his eyes all the way, before eventually they were given a Portkey which would take them near Ottery St. Catchpole and the Weasley house. Finally, the Grangers Floo’d home, Sirius apparated away with a snapping noise, and the girls were sent to bed. Sleep did not come easily to Ariadne, as she tried to calm down and couldn’t help but remember the bewildering dream she’d all but forgotten about from that morning.  _ Send them a sign _ , Voldemort had said, and Ariadne couldn’t help but wonder if it were a dream at all.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some further little changes, eh? Even these establishing scenes from the movies aren’t the same anymore, not quite, which is nice. Means I get to throw a bit more of a creative lens on things.  
> (also if anyone’s wondering - it doesn’t seem that Crouch Jr. uses canon!Harry’s wand in the movie. Harry still has his wand in the scene, you can see him switch hands with it as he holds onto a tent, and Crouch Jr. leaves with the wand.)


	115. Fourth Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers return to Hogwarts for their fourth year of study, and are greeted by the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we get into the meat! I must confess, it’s been nice going almost completely off script for the last ten chapters, it’s almost a shame to go back to using the canon as such a direct base!

Ariadne was glad to be returning to Hogwarts, as September rolled around, accompanied by Ron’s third full moon. It was not because she disliked being at home, far from it; it was because she was restless. For what had effectively been the last two years of her life, she’d been constantly at work studying or practicing for Quidditch, with her off time being spent learning to play the guitar, and she was having trouble  _ not _ doing that. She’d even reached for her Time Turner instinctively on more than one morning. Ron, meanwhile, according to his letters was  _ very _ glad that term began on the sixth of September that year instead of the first - if it had begun on the first, it would have landed directly in the middle of his cycle, which wouldn’t exactly have been convenient to say the least. He’d be sluggish and achy, but he’d at least be recovering as they started classes. After a bountiful trip to Diagon Alley, the Grangers had happily met back up with their Weasley friends and had found themselves a comfortably empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

“What  _ is _ this about, Hermione?” Ron asked as they sat, a book she’d given him in his arms as he frowned, wind blowing across them slightly from the window Ron had opened.

“It’s about the Golden Age of Piracy, with particular emphasis on the pirates themselves. I’m up to the section about Calico Jack, Anne Bonny and Mary Read,” Hermione replied, her own nose buried in a newspaper with its glittering magical blocks indicating images. “Don’t take my bookmark out.”

“Huh…” Ron mused, as Ginny leaned over curiously, with Crookshanks in her lap. The cat didn’t seem to trust Ron anymore. “So like, ships and stuff, buried treasure?”

“I wonder if there were any wizarding pirates?” Ginny said. “Wouldn’t that have been cool?”

“It’s believed James Timbrous was a wizarding pirate, but he was killed quite early in his career,” Ariadne replied. “There’s a book about it in the Diagon Alley library.”

“There’s a library in Diagon Alley?” Ginny asked, blinking at Ariadne in surprise.

“Yep. We er… we may have pretty much read everything in it,” she replied, fiddling with her hair awkwardly as Ron looked up from the book. The boy grunted slightly as he stood up to meet the old woman who pushed the sweets trolley, whose name Ariadne had never caught, while Ginny smiled.

“Anything from the trolley dears?” the lady asked, as Ron dug into his pockets for some of his meager pocket money.

“Can I get a packet of Droobles… and a Licorice Wand?” Ron asked, handing her the money.

“There you go. Anything sweet for you dears?” she asked, giving him the pair of packets before he sat down again heavily.

“Oh, um, I could-I could-I could go for some Caramel Cobwebs,” Ariadne spluttered, stepping up and leaning into the corridor. “And a few Sherbert Lemons,” she added, fishing her wallet out of her hoodie as she sensed Zhou Chang step up the corridor behind the lady.

“Um, two Pumpkin Pasties, please?” Zhou asked, trying to get the witch’s attention and smiling awkwardly.

“Oh hey Zhou!” Ariadne said. “How were your holidays? Looking forward to Quidditch?”

“Hey Ariadne,” Zhou replied as the trolley witch fished out some pasties for her. “Haven’t you heard? Quidditch isn’t on this year.”

“What?” Ariadne exclaimed. “Why?”

“Dunno. Cedric owled me the other day, said the Cup was cancelled and he hadn’t been told why. Thank you,” Zhou replied, gratefully taking her Pumpkin Pasties. “See you later, Ariadne!”

“All right, there’s your cobwebs and your lemons, dear. Enjoy,” the lady said, handing her the small boxes and pushing the trolley onward as Ariadne sat back down, frowning.

“Why would they cancel Quidditch?” Ron asked as he looked over the packets of sweets he’d bought. “Nothing’s happened, has it? Oh hang on.” His face fell as he looked over the packet of the Licorice Wand.

“What?” Hermione asked, leaning over.

“Sweetened with Xylitol. Hey Ginny, d’you want this? I can’t have it.” Ginny nodded, and took it from him.

“What’s Xylitol?” Ginny asked.

“It’s a non-magical sweetener, it’s really bad for… um… for him,” Hermione replied, putting down her newspaper and tilting her head at the still open door. “Better for  _ our _ teeth than sugar though, Dad says. Didn’t your father say something was happening this year?”

“Wouldn’t tell me, I even pulled the puppy-dog eyes at him,” Ron replied. “Just that Percy was gonna be busy,” he added, as Ariadne scratched at her scar. It had been itching a little of late, but usually not enough to be noticeable.

“Odd,” Hermione said. “What would the Department of International Magical Cooperation be doing at Hogwarts?” she wondered, before frowning at Ariadne. “Is your scar hurting, Ariadne?” she asked, intently.

“Hmm? Nah, just a bit sore,” Ariadne replied. “It’s nothing,” she assured her, offering Ginny one of the Caramel Cobwebs. “What?”

“It’s just… if your scar  _ is _ hurting…” Hermione shook her head. “The Dark Mark at the Cup, and then your scar hurts? I don’t like that coincidence, you know what that meant in first year,” she said, twisting her right hand anxiously and holding up the paper in her other. Ariadne had to admit, it was a curiosity at least, as the train chuffed ever closer to Hogwarts and her fourth school year at the school. She could only hope that Hermione was wrong, and that the relative peace of her third year would continue.

\--

“Well now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement!” Professor Dumbledore declared, standing at his podium as the final first year, Orla Quirke, took her seat at the Ravenclaw table and Professor McGonagall sat back down at his right side. Ron was still chewing on the Droobles gum he’d bought as the door to the Hall opened and Filch began jogging down the aisle with some difficulty and Dumbledore continued. “This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see, Hogwarts has been chosen-” Filch reached Dumbledore, and the man leant down slightly to listen to the haggardly panting man for a moment, before saying something to him and Filch began running back down the Hall, his hand clutching his chest. “So, Hogwarts has been chosen to host a  _ legendary _ event: The Triwizard Tournament.”

“We’ve read about that!” Ariadne whispered excitedly to Hermione as other murmurs began wavering through the Hall. She was surprised and concerned, however; the Tournament had been retired for good reason. “This must be what your dad meant, Ron!”  _ That _ was almost certainly why the Quidditch Cup had been cancelled.

“Didn’t it get cancelled in 1792 after a cockatrice killed half a dozen people and injured more?!” Hermione whispered back, horrified. “That can’t be safe,” she added, as Fred and George described it in unison as ‘brilliant.’

“Now for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests,” Dumbledore continued. “From each school, a single student is selected to compete. Let me be clear!” he barked. “If chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say… these contests are not for the faint-hearted.” Ariadne shook her head, raising her eyebrows darkly. At least entering was not and had never been compulsory - well, except for Beauxbatons students of 1689, when the headmaster of Beauxbatons had entered his entire student body, causing havoc when the Goblet of Fire had selected an eleven year old girl who hadn’t even come with them to Durmstrang. It hadn’t gone down well, especially not after she’d been horribly killed by a Lethifold, and that headmaster’s career had ended shortly thereafter. “But more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the charming students of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxime!” he declared, pointing his arm to the door of the Great Hall.

As the doors opened, out spilled what had to be fifty students of the French academy, but it was not the students that drew Ariadne’s attention, at least not at first. It was the ultimately weak, but still very much present, purple cloud of a Veela, that flowed into the room as she watched the delegation enter the Hall. The student in question was near the back of the column, and from the strength of the cloud, almost certainly not a full Veela. Probably half or quarter-Veela, she surmised as the magic very gently skimmed across many of the Hogwarts students. Each Beauxbatons student wore an angled hat and a capelet that reached their upper arms about their shoulders, while the girls wore a knee-length flowing dress and the boys wore a rather smart looking coat that reached about the same length, tidy trousers beneath as well as possibly gloves, Ariadne wasn’t sure from the folding behaviour.

Behind them, however, was a woman who fully embodied the derivation of her name, as the students danced elegantly down the aisle. The Beauxbatons Headmistress, Madame Maxime, was by far among the tallest people Ariadne had ever encountered, her yellow and green magical core set above the heads of her students as she stood perhaps taller even than Professor Hagrid.

“Blimey. That’s one big woman,” Seamus marvelled to Dean, who nodded as Ariadne noticed Ginny staring at Maxime, mouth agape in awe as the Beauxbatons boys threw the girls into the air as they span, in a dance that reminded Ariadne of what she’d read of ballet. She’d never actually ‘seen’ a dance performed, she realized, not properly.

“You’d be pretty good at that,” Ariadne whispered to Ron and nudging him as he nodded wryly, the Beauxbatons boys threw the girls into the air a final time, glitters of blue magic clearly assisting to get a little extra height before the French students took a final bow before the Hall and Dumbledore kissed the hand of the immensely tall Maxime, not even having to tilt his head as gentle applause filled the room.

“And now, our friends from the north!” Dumbledore called, striding quickly back to his elevated podium to stand beside it and holding his arms up to silence the last of the applause as the Beauxbatons students took their seats. “Please greet the proud children of Durmstrang, and their high master Igor Karkaroff!” Immediately, bearing enchanted staves and furred uniforms, Durmstrang’s students strode in confidently, led by a tall girl with a long ponytail. There was little difference between the uniforms of the girls and boys of Durmstrang, save that it seemed the girls, those that wore them, not all did, wore slightly shorter coats than the boys whose coats reached near the floor. Under the coats, the students wore a long sleeved tunic with buttons to one side, a belt and some with a sort of half-cloak on their side. As they slammed their staves onto the ground with bursts of orange magic in time with a student at the back with a drum, Ariadne realized that the music their last students were playing was nearly identical to the brass and drums that had accompanied-

“Blimey, it’s him!” Ron exclaimed as the frontmost Durmstrang girl twirled her staff dramatically, making it vanish with a burst of green light to Ariadne’s surprise, before sprinting to the front with the next three students, both boys, and somersaulting before Dumbledore, and three more people entered the hall. One, who was wearing a very different coat and a pointed beard, presumably High Master Karkaroff, a tidy looking student who also bore a shorter beard, and one student ahead of them, who wore the same simple, coated uniform as the rest. His magical core was familiar, and Ariadne knew why as whispers filled the Hall. “Viktor Krum!” Ron marvelled as the Bulgarian Seeker strode past confidently.

Kneeling before Dumbledore, the three students who’d run forward held their wands in front of them, some of which had core colours Ariadne didn’t recognize, before a mote of magical flame burst forth between them, looping around before it formed into the shape of a phoenix-like bird in the air, its wings spread menacingly, and vanished.

“Albus!” Karkaroff called, adjusting his staff in his hand before embracing Professor Dumbledore.

“Igor,” Professor Dumbledore said friendlily, returning the embrace as rain began to fall outside, pattering on the windows gently. “Good to see you. Now! Hogwarts! Let’s entertain our guests in the best way we can! All stand!” Ariadne groaned as she could only imagine the words Dumbledore had just conjured in the air, a yellow beam hovering a ball over the banner from his white-glowing wand. “Maestro, please!” Dumbledore span, holding up his arms as Ron facepalmed briefly.

“ _ Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please! _ ”

Ariadne was glad she couldn’t read the lyrics and was reasonably excused from having to take part. It was a bad sign when one shared an opinion with Draco Malfoy, who Ariadne noticed was grimacing and refusing to sing over on the Slytherin table as the discordant song which honestly reminded her of primary school rang out through the Hall.

\--

“So you think one’s a Veela?” Ron asked as he decimated a plate of Estonian  _ verivorst _ blood sausage, one of many far more multicultural dishes that had greeted them when the tables had sent Ariadne’s magic sense through a blender to complement the northern and French cuisines. It had only been after the student’s magical cloud had faded that she’d noticed the sky of the Hall was a bit redder than usual, and slowly getting more so.

“Yes, the one who asked about the  _ bouillabaisse  _ earlier,” Ariadne replied, swallowing a mouthful of profiterole. “Not a full Veela, obviously, but part. I recognize the magic,” she added, as Ron looked over. “I’m sure you know not to go gossiping about it.”

“Um…” Ron swallowed, stunned as Ariadne realized he wasn’t looking at the polite French girl who’d come over earlier, but instead a Durmstrang student who was walking toward them, who was very familiar.

“May I?” Viktor Krum asked politely, leaning beside Ariadne. Ron immediately shoved himself to the side, slamming into Hermione to Krum’s amusement. “So, you are Ariadne Granger, yes?” he said, Ron gaping at him as he sat down between them and offered his hand. He hadn’t quite pronounced her name correctly, but that wasn’t uncommon.

“A-A-Ariadne, yes,” Ariadne spluttered, facing him.  _ Viktor Krum knows me?! _ she exclaimed in her head. “And-and-and you’re-you’re Viktor Krum? I-I recognize you-your magic, from-from the World Cup,” she added, smiling at him and shaking his hand. “Ron’s a big fan, and that’s Hermione, my sister,” she smirked, pointing to the boy who spluttered.

“Indeed. Good to meet you, Mister..?” Krum said warmly, turning to the frozen boy and Hermione stopped eating and sat with her eyes wide at Krum.

“Weasley…” Ron said, his mouth still hanging open as Krum shook his hand as well and he stared at the hand as Krum turned back.

“It is a pleasure, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.” Krum looked intently at Ariadne, as Hermione shuddered in ecstatic tension, her hands wobbling as she tried to mask her stims in front of the famous Seeker. “You, you are the one they call the White Eyed Wonder, yes?” Ariadne gasped, almost laughing in anxiety as her face went red and she nodded. “My whole team, oh, they talk my ears off before I come here. Is it true you are blind but can see magic?”

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied giddily, nodding. “You’re um, you’re red and blue, to me.”

“Incredible,” Krum marvelled, as three staff members and Filch brought in a tall segmented structure on rods, depositing it where Dumbledore’s podium had been. “Bah,  _ podqvolite _ . I must go, but we will speak again, yes?” Ariadne nodded vigorously as Krum hurried back over to the Durmstrang table which had been set up on the end of Slytherin’s. Hermione immediately stopped masking, almost punching Ron accidentally as she waved her arms.

“That was Viktor Krum!” Hermione squealed as Ariadne froze in her seat. “Viktor Krum likes you!”

“Your attention please!” Dumbledore called, standing beside the segmented cone and rudely pulling Ariadne from her reverie. “I’d like to say a few words,” he told them, placing a hand on the structure, as Ariadne noticed Bartemius Crouch standing behind him a ways. “Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three  _ extremely _ dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked,” Fred and George said in unison.

“For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule,” Dumbledore continued, as the ceiling went crimson. “To explain this, we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mister Bartemius Crouch-” Dumbledore was cut off by a crack of thunder directly overhead, as everyone around her looked around frantically, before crying out as a torrential downpour began pelting down at them. From a side door, a bolt of purple light shot out toward the clearly malfunctioning ceiling, sent by something glimmering and green with a blob of orange near its tip.

“Wh-what is that?” Ariadne asked, tilting her head toward whatever had just been moved into the Hall, as the rain promptly stopped and the ceiling went back to its normal kaleidoscope.

“What do you mean  _ what _ ?” Ron spluttered. “That’s bloody Mad-Eye Moody!” Ariadne frowned. That was a person? Sure enough, it was shaped like one, albeit lacking a leg, but it was solid green, as it stepped forward, and she could not sense their core.

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione asked quizzically.

“Auror?” Dean asked, confused.

“Dark wizard catcher. Half the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him,” Ron replied. “Supposed to be mad as a hatter though, these days,” he added, as the figure stepped forward hesitantly.

“You mean that’s a person?” Ariadne whispered.

“Yeah, what else would he be?” Ron chuckled.

“Doesn’t look like a person normally does to me…” Ariadne mumbled. Something was very wrong about Alastor Moody, as he greeted Professor Dumbledore as an old friend. He stepped back, looking like he was pulling something out of his coat, before seeming to drink. Ron screwed up his nose.

“What’s that he’s drinking, do you suppose?” Seamus asked Ariadne. “Can you sense it?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t expect it’s pumpkin juice,” Ariadne murmured as Ron leant forward.

“Whatever it is, it reeks,” Ron added as quietly as he could in her ear as the green shell on the man seemed to get brighter.

“After due consideration,” Crouch called loudly, grabbing most of her attention back from the anomalous Auror. “The Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament. This decision is final!” Crouch called over the cries of outrage from Hogwarts students all over the Hall, as Fred and George half stood, loudly declaring it ‘rubbish.’ Ariadne didn’t know what all the fuss was about. It seemed a perfectly reasonable expectation, given the history of the Tournament.

“ **_SILENCE!_ ** ” Dumbledore roared, halting any and all dissent.

“They’re not too happy about that then,” Hermione whispered to Ariadne, who shrugged. Dumbledore flicked his wand up at the segmented cone, as it melted away in Ariadne’s glasses, before revealing perhaps one of the most intensely magical objects she’d ever sensed. Tall, it had almost its own human core, in all colours of the rainbow, shifting and curling slowly, and as Dumbledore stood, four points turned into beams that converged in a spot above it, forming a roar that Ariadne knew from reading about it to be the flame of the Goblet of Fire.

“The Goblet of Fire,” Dumbledore declared. “Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the Tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment, and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night,” he told them. “Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there’s no turning back. As from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the first of the deleted scenes from Goblet of Fire worms its way in there, mwahahaha.  
> Krum gets almost no dialogue in the movie, lmao. It seemed logical to me he’d be curious about the blind and yet very skilled Seeker that is Ariadne.  
> Important note for anyone who might be skipping ahead off the key I put on the first chapter: the Polyjuice plot never happened in KG!Chamber of Secrets, thus Ariadne does not recognize it.


	116. Mixed Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne isn’t sure what to make of the new, strange-appearing Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alastor Moody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh do I enjoy the speculations in the comments, they’re ever so delicious.

“Those Nifflers did  _ not _ like you, did they?” Ariadne said as she and Ron bobbed up the steps back into the castle after Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Hagrid. “I don’t think you got a single coin out of it.”

“It’s like they don’t trust me or something. I hope that’s not gonna be a running bloody theme, or I’ll have no hope of passing the exam,” Ron lamented, shaking his head and waving an arm emphatically. For their first lesson, Professor Hagrid had introduced them to Nifflers, strange little creatures with a glowing magical pouch on their bellies that were almost magnetically attracted to precious metals and gems. Their aim, after being paired with a Niffler - Ron with the one which least distrusted him, which wasn’t saying much - was to gather as much of the buried Leprechaun gold in Hagrid’s paddock as possible through their use. Ariadne had even caught Goyle pocketing the gold he’d gathered, which Hagrid had explained was pointless due to the fact it would vanish in a few hours. Ariadne had far from won, that honour had gone to Sally-Anne with thirty four pieces, but she’d done fairly well for herself after coaxing the Niffler into releasing the twelve pieces of gold it had gathered, as well as a large, rusty pocket watch Professor Hagrid said he’d lost decades ago. Ron had soundly lost, gaining nothing from the experience. Even if his Niffler had found anything, it had completely refused to release the contents of its pouch to the boy.

“Well at least the Streelers can’t smell you,” Ariadne mused, mentally going through the rough overview of the curriculum Hagrid had given them and remembering the giant acidic slugs. She was glad he hadn’t assigned a living book that year, instead he’d assigned them the gigantic tome that was the Fourth Extended Edition of the Masters Edition of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ , by Newt Scamander. Heavy though it was, she could at least read it. Which she had done already. Twice.

“Unicorn’s probably gonna stab me,” Ron joked. “They prefer girls, and it won’t like  _ me _ . Hey, wonder what it’ll think of you?”

“Dunno. The stairs know I’m a girl, so maybe a unicorn would too,” Ariadne replied, a little uncomfortable at the subject. “Hey Hermione! How was Muggle Studies?” she called, waving as her sister met them on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“Hey ‘Adne!” Hermione said, tapping her knuckles. “Really interesting! We’re going to be learning about non-magical history for the most part this term, with particular focus on the second world war and then wider non-magical culture! There aren’t as many students though,” she chuckled. “I guess Professor Burbage scared them off.”

“What do you think Defence is gonna be like?” Ron asked eagerly. “Apparently Mad-Eye’s our new Professor,” he added as they started up the staircase, Ariadne adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she weaved her head back and forth to check the stairs.

“Maybe we’ll find out why he looks so weird to me,” Ariadne said, raising an eyebrow and making a face. “What that potion is.”

“Only one way to find out,” Hermione replied cheerfully, stepping through the door to the classroom. Ariadne was greeted by a rather cluttered version of the Defence classroom, veritably bustling with magical odds and ends, what looked like lenses adorning a wall and parts of the ceiling, accompanied by so many cages and jars at the end of the room behind the desk that she was surprised Moody could even access his office.

“Spooky, huh?” Ron marvelled, following the Grangers as they went and sat down beside each other near the front at the left. Ron sat just ahead of them, hoisting his book out of his bag and setting it down as the bell tolled and the door of the office swung open with a thunk to reveal the green-glowing form of Professor Moody, the orange globule that was the eponymous Mad Eye seeming to glare out at her as he stepped down and out in front of the chalkboard. The entire class was silent as he regarded them, standing his staff beside him where it wobbled slightly.

“Alastor Moody,” he announced, stepping back and picking up some chalk. “Ex-Auror. Ministry malcontent. And your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” he growled, scrawling on the blackboard and tossing the chalk back. “I’m here because Dumbledore asked me, end of story, goodbye, the end!” he added. “Any questions?” Ariadne twitched, wondering if she should ask.  _ Would it be rude of me? _ she wondered as she frowned a little, the rest of the class as silent as the grave at the man’s gaze. She couldn’t make out many details, as the green shell around him interfered with the magic of her glasses, but he seemed a little grizzled, particularly around the replacement eye. “When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach,” he told them, leaning forward slightly. “But first, which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?”

“Three, sir,” both Hermione and Ariadne tensely replied in unison, before Hermione snorted and the entire class giggled. “You go,” Ariadne murmured.

“Heh. And they are so named?” Moody added, retrieving the chalk and furiously swiping it across the board.

“Because they are unforgivable,” Hermione replied. “The use of any one of them will-”

“Earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban! Correct!” Moody growled, before turning back to the class. “Now the Ministry says you’re too young to see what these curses do. I say different!” he barked, tapping the chalk on the table emphatically. “You need to know  _ what _ you’re up against! You need to be prepared!” he yelled, stepping back to the chalkboard as Ariadne watched Seamus fiddle with something behind her. “You need to find another place to put your chewing gum besides the underside of your desk, Mister Finnegan!” he added loudly, as everyone save Ariadne - who simply smirked, not needing to turn - turned to face Seamus.

“Ugh. No way. The old codger can see out the back of his head,” Seamus complained, before Moody span.  _ So can I _ , Ariadne thought, grinning, as Moody hurled the chalk at Seamus’ head with terrifying speed.

“And hear across classrooms!” Professor Moody yelled. “So, which curse shall we see first?” he added more quietly, stepping forward. “Weasley!” he yelled, spooking Ron, who jumped.

“Yes?” Ron quavered.

“Stand.” Ron stood up, his legs shaking a little at the imposing Professor in front of him. “Give us a curse,” Moody hissed.

“Well… my-my dad did tell me about one,” Ron mumbled, as Moody twitched at him. “The Imperius Curse?”

“Oh, yeah, your father would know all about that,” the man said. “Gave the Ministry quite a bit of grief a few years ago. Perhaps this will show you  _ why _ .” Ron sat down as Ariadne remembered the history books she’d read. The Imperius Curse was used to control another, and it had commonly been used by Voldemort during the war.

Ron drew back. It seemed Professor Moody had crooningly retrieved a large arachnid from a jar and enlarged it with the  _ engorgio _ spell, as it now glowed red.

“ _ Imperio _ ,” Moody growled, flexing his wand at it, before a flickering black and white beam jutted out at the spider, wrapping around it aggressively as it shuddered. Turning, Moody flicked the spider - was it a spider? It had claws, so probably a whip spider - onto Dean’s desk, as the boy shot back from it.

Crabbe threw his hands to his head, screwing his eyes shut as Moody flicked the spider onto his head, where it danced about on his short hair and teased at his fingers with its claws.

“Don’t worry, it’s completely harmless!” Moody called jovially, smiling as he flicked it at Parvati, who had been giggling, before she started panting in fear as it crawled up her arm creepily. “If she bites… she’s lethal!” Moody cackled, dangling it above Ron’s head, as Ron whimpered in fear and bared his teeth at it before with a tiny flick of his wand, the man let it drop onto his forehead, making Ron freeze. 

“What’re you laughing at?!” Moody barked at Malfoy, who had been giggling incessantly at Ron’s fear, before his mirth became terror as the Professor threw the spider at the Slytherin’s face and the entire class laughed at his and Goyle’s attempts to slap it off. “Talented isn’t she?!” Moody laughed. “Haha! What shall I have her do next? Jump out the window?” He flicked his wand again, sending the spider flying into one of the many lenses that adorned the room. “Drown herself?” he slowly dangled the spider over a small bucket by the window, as Ariadne noticed the curse’s bubble begin to shudder as if the spider were resisting it, before Moody hovered it back to his hand.

“Scores of witches and wizards have claimed that they only did You Know Who’s bidding… under the influence of the Imperius Curse! But here’s the rub,” Moody said, as he released the spell and the staticky beam failed, bubbles of it still flickering around the spider. “How do we sort out the  _ liars _ ?” he growled.

“You ask me,” Ariadne said quietly, as Moody jumped to look at her, as well as the entire class which span to look at her incredulously.

“Can sense it can you?” Moody barked, before seeming to smile. “Does it leave a trace?” he asked darkly. Ariadne nodded.

“A l-a l-a l-a little. It’s fading though,” she replied, tilting her head at the spider, which was slowly losing the staticky aura around it, as Moody hummed in curiosity before his smile became a toothy grin, even the inside of his mouth glowing green.

“You’d have been very helpful thirteen years ago, Miss Granger. Even more helpful than you were,” Moody mused, before looking back up. “Another, another,” he urged. Both of the Grangers put their hands up, as did a number of the rest of the class, including Neville who was sitting near Ron. “Up, up, come on. Longbottom, is it? Up.” Neville stood shakily. “Professor Sprout tells me you have an aptitude for Herbology,” he told him, almost menacingly as Neville nodded.

“Th-there’s the um… Th-the Cruciatus… curse,” Neville said lightly. Ariadne frowned. Neville wasn’t exactly the most socially courageous kid in Gryffindor, but he didn’t normally stammer much.

“Correct, correct!” Moody exclaimed. “Come, come,” he said, urging Neville forward and closer to the desk. “Particularly nasty. The torture curse,” he hissed as Neville stepped beside the desk, his magic spasming a little. “ _ Crucio! _ ” Professor Moody growled loudly, a sharp beam of staticky Dark magic lashing out at the spider. This magic wasn’t so gentle as the Imperius had been, as it spiked and stabbed at the spider, which Ariadne could almost  _ hear _ screaming as Neville’s magic suddenly jumped into a stress overdrive and he grimaced, closing his eyes and looking away.

Neville had some sort of trauma related to that curse, Ariadne realized as the spider writhed and she spluttered a bit.

“Sto-st-sto-stop it!” Ariadne yelled, as Hermione grimaced. “Can’t you see it’s bothering him?! Stop it!” Moody looked up suddenly, his focus on the spider breaking as he looked between Ariadne, the spider and the boy, before relaxing his arm, the beam ceasing and the residual spikes of the Cruciatus curse fading slowly, and Neville’s magic started to relax a little.

“Um…” Moody groaned, clearing his throat as he stepped over to Ariadne’s desk and fluttered the spider onto her textbook, where it stood, clearly still recovering as Neville sat back down. “Perhaps you could give us the last Unforgivable Curse, Miss Granger,” Professor Moody said quietly. Ariadne shook her head. She knew what it was, and she would rather the spider live a healthy and happy life to make up for what it had just experienced. “No?” Moody straightened a little poising his wand. “ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ” he barked, a shaft of the same Dark magic stabbing out at the whip spider, which immediately curled up as all of its organs failed all at once and its open circulatory system stopped flowing as Ariadne’s scar suddenly stabbed in pain.

“The Killing Curse,” Moody explained tersely. “Only one person is known to have survived it. And she’s sitting right in front of me,” he added, looking down at her intently as she smiled wryly. As he stood before her, he licked the corner of his lip before reaching into his coat and pulling out his flask. Ron briefly screwed up his nose before he opened his mouth ever so slightly, breathing through his teeth as Moody downed whatever was inside. Unfortunately, Ariadne got no glimpse of what colour the potion was to her. “So! How might one prepare against these spells?” Moody yelled, stowing the flask and turning about.

“Have your mother sacrifice her life for you,” Ariadne mumbled sarcastically, at which Moody snorted.

“Not a preferable option, Granger. For the Killing Curse, your only real hope is to dodge the thing,” Professor Moody said, turning to his desk. “You’d be surprised how many witches and wizards can’t dodge a curse to save their lives. Shields can be twisted through if you’re precise, and punched through if you’re strong, but it’s no use if they can’t get you in the first place, and that’s not just for the Unforgivables. Now, how might one resist the Imperius?” he barked.

“Meditation?” a Hufflepuff student asked, raising her hand.

“Correct!” Moody exclaimed, pointing to her behind him and scrawling on the board. “Occlumency and adjacent disciplines can be employed to throw off an Imperius Curse. Who was that, Miss Bones? Five points to Hufflepuff.”

“ _ Aurum  _ chalk,” Ariadne whispered, before tapping her glasses off to reveal what Moody was writing. It wasn’t perfect, tending to only give her an outline, but it was enough to read.  _ Moody. (3) Unforgivables. Meditation? _

“A shield charm?” Seamus called, also earning a finger-pointing from Moody.

“Not for the Killing Curse, but a Cruciatus and an Imperius can be blocked, correct Mister Finnegan!” Professor Moody called as Ariadne began taking detailed notes.  _ Shields _ . “If you’ve got good aim, it’ll even affect the person who threw it at you instead!” he added, grinning at the class. “Now. Any of these three curses will earn you a life sentence in Azkaban,  _ however _ !” Moody called, standing back at his desk and putting the chalk down. “I  _ am _ permitted to employ it educationally, in the instance of a consenting volunteer! So. Who wants to try resist an Imperius? We’ll see what you know, and then I’ll teach you what you don’t.” Dozens of hands shot up, none of which belonging to Ariadne or Hermione. “Finnegan, up you come!”

\--

“Brilliant, isn’t he?” Ron exclaimed as Ariadne slowly and carefully descended the spiral staircase toward the first floor and the Great Hall. “Completely demented, of course, and terrifying to be in the same room with… but he’s really been there, you know? He’s looked evil in the eye,” he marvelled. Ariadne grimaced. “Wish he hadn’t done  _ that _ though,” he mumbled. Ron had been one of the first volunteers to attempt to resist the Imperius curse, and he’d failed completely - the instruction, to bark and walk around like a dog. Ariadne hoped nobody had noticed how real it had sounded. The man probably didn’t know about Ron’s condition, only select staff - Dumbledore, Pomfrey, Hagrid and McGonagall knew, while Snape only knew there was a werewolf among the students - did, but she still didn’t like it. 

She wasn’t sure how she felt about Professor Moody. On one hand, his antics with his magic eye and manic behaviour were entertaining, but on the other, Neville clearly had some trauma around the Cruciatus curse to consider, and he’d been specific in getting the boy up. He was a bit scary, and she wasn’t sure if she liked or disliked him.

“There’s a reason those curses are unforgivable!” Hermione exclaimed angrily as she stepped down. “To perform the Cruciatus in a classroom! I mean, did you see Neville’s face?!” Ariadne tapped her arm, pointing out the aforementioned Neville, who was standing at an alcove, staring at what Ariadne had been told was a stained glass window, rain pattering against the glass.

“Neville?” Ariadne murmured gently, as the glowing Professor Moody shunted down the stairs noisily and leaned in beside them, taking Neville’s shoulder.

“Son?” Moody said, far more gently than he’d been in the classroom. “All right?” he asked, as Neville turned to face him, nodding. “Come on, we’ll have a cup of tea. I want to show you something,” he told the boy, beginning back up the stairs with some difficulty due to his prosthetic. “Oh, Weasley. Professor Dumbledore wanted me to tell you, he’d like to see you. Said you’d know why.” Ron nodded glumly. “Off you pop, come on Longbottom.”

“Professor Dumbledore wants to see you?” Hermione asked, frowning. “About..?” Ron nodded.

“I guess. First I’ve heard,” Ron replied, shrugging as they stepped down to the first floor landing. “I should probably go, see you at dinner?”

“Meet you at the Great Hall,” Ariadne called as he stepped away. “We’re going to get some reading in, might as well see who’s putting their names in for the Tournament while we’re at it.”

“Gotcha,” Ron replied, bobbing as he started walking. “See you guys!” he added, turning as he waved and jogging off toward the door to Dumbledore’s office. Hermione shook her head and sighed.

“What do you think that’s about? Other than the obvious,” Ariadne asked Hermione quietly as they walked. Hermione shook her head even more.

“I hope I’m wrong. Did you ever hear what that Ministry woman, Umbridge, did after Mister Lupin was outed? It’s disgusting.” Ariadne groaned, shaking her head. She hadn’t paid much attention to the legal fallout of Remus’ outing, instead focusing on the social consequences for the man himself, but what little she’d heard from Hermione didn’t exactly fill her with hope as Ron’s lycanthropic core vanished around the corner and they neared the Great Hall. “I’ll tell you later, when we’re not in public,” Hermione said, pointing around as she shook her free left hand anxiously. Ariadne didn’t even want to speculate, but found her mind wouldn’t shut up about it as she sat down on a bench in the Hall, a ways from the brightly magical Goblet of Fire, and got out the Transfiguration textbook she wanted to study.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It just kinda hits different to know that not only does “Professor Moody” know that Neville saw his parents tortured into insanity, but that he was literally the one doing it, he knows what Neville’s reaction will be.


	117. Names on a List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has some disturbing news, and the twins have a stupid idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a hot sec because I’ve been planning further chapters and I do in fact have a life.  
> TW: Aphobia (mentioned)

“What’s that you’ve got there, Neville?” Ariadne asked, without raising her head or apparent gaze from the Transfiguration textbook in her arms. The warmth of the Great Hall was a welcome dam against the rain that hammered down outside, and a number of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students had been groaning about the inevitability of having to return to the great ship that lay docked down the cliff from the castle and the huge enchanted carriage standing near Professor Hagrid’s house respectively in the rain. Neville had arrived with what appeared to be a book, and was standing around the Age Line reading it while Ariadne and Hermione sat on a bench watching a Durmstrang boy pop a piece of paper in the invisible flame.

“Hmm?” Neville jumped, freezing up a bit. “Oh, Professor Moody gave it to me. _Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs_. It’s fascinating, I wonder if Professor Sprout would mind if I tried growing some of these.”

“Water plants? Like what?” Hermione asked curiously, sliding a bookmark into her own book and closing it.

“There’s this one, the Assynt Carnivorous Surface Feeder,” Neville replied eagerly, coming over with the book and showing Hermione the page. “They’re notoriously hard to spot if you don’t know what you’re looking for, they form colonies on the surface and reach down into the water for fish with their tendrils. They were discovered in Loch Assynt, but they can be found all over the place.”

“Is it an algae?” Hermione asked. “It looks rather like one, but it’s hard to tell.”

“Of a sort,” Neville replied. “It’s related to a few types of algae, but it’s a magical graft with other plants. It probably wasn’t a natural species originally. It’s very nutritious, apparently some people make chips out of it like with seaweed!”

“Huh. I wonder how that tastes,” Ariadne mused, as Ron finally appeared in the doorway, what little of his expression she could sense hardly filling her with hope. “Give us a sec, Neville. Hey Ron!” she called, waving as the boy stepped over, hoisting a leg over the bench as Neville gave them some space, burying himself back in the book. Under the brilliant blue cordyceps, Ron’s magical core was shuddering, like he was worried.

“You won’t believe this,” Ron told them darkly. Hermione raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. “There’s a bloody register!” he hissed. Ariadne span to face him, her face going white as Hermione gaped at him.

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed. “Don’t tell me…”

“It’s been around for a while but that hag Dolores Umbridge made so you _have_ to come forward and put your name on it, and some other stuff,” Ron explained. “She did it after Remus got outed.”

“That’s disgusting!” Ariadne exclaimed. “You’re not going to, are you?” she asked, worriedly. If he did, the consequences would be disastrous. Ron shook his head.

“No. Dumbledore says he’ll try to keep the Governors off my tail, explain that it’s to prevent my ‘social suicide.’” Ron sighed, more a sigh of fear than relief. “But if he can’t…”

“The register is public, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. Ron nodded, chewing a nail. “Everyone would find out.”

“Yeah,” Ron groaned. “But if the Ministry finds out, Dad’s gonna get fined a _lot_..” Ariadne laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Whatever happens, you know we’re here for you,” she murmured. Ron smiled wryly, nodding.

“How’s all this going then?” he asked, raising his voice from his previous whisper and feigning cheerfulness as he pointed to the brilliant colours of the Goblet of Fire.

“Malfoy was saying he’d enter if he were older,” Ariadne sighed. “Imagine that, Hogwarts Champion _Draco Malfoy_ ,” she spat. Ron pretended to gag. “That Age Line has a sense of humour; Neville stepped in by accident ‘cos he was reading, it waited until he noticed to push him out.”

“It was only polite,” Hermione noted, twisting the tail of her bookmark around her finger. “Didn’t exactly shove him, more of a gentle nudge.

“Yeah, I was fine. Lost my page though, had to figure out where I was,” Neville added, sitting down as there was a commotion by the door. Three students were running into the Hall, presumably soaking wet by the damp slaps of their shoes - or rather, two students were running into the Hall, veritably carrying one Cedric Diggory between them, before they hurled him toward the Age Line. He must have been 17 already.

“Come on, Cedric! Put it in!” one of the boys called as Cedric stumbled over the line and it lashed out at him to check his age, a piece of paper in his hand. Cedric turned to the Goblet, swaying toward it before raising his arm and tossing the paper in, the Goblet flashing as it accepted his entry. The boy grinned, stepping back out of the Age Line as the gathered students clapped, Ariadne tapping her book loudly before putting a bookmark down and closing it.

“Eternal glory, be brilliant wouldn’t it?” Ron mused, clapping. “You’d be a good one, should enter next time, three years from now when we’re old enough to be chosen. Killed a Basilisk on your own, you did,” he said to Ariadne, clapping her on the back. Ariadne grimaced, but had to admit she took it as a compliment as her face went a little red.

“Rather you than me, I’ve had enough monsters for one lifetime, thank you very much. The Basilisk is not an experience I ever want to relive,” Ariadne told him. “Besides, have you-”

“HAHA, YEAHHH!” came the shout that cut Ariadne off, as Fred and George ran into the Hall, yelling in unison as Seamus and the others started clapping with the rest of the rubberneckers. “Thank you, thank you,” Fred said, clapping peoples’ hands as they walked past. They were each carrying a vial, and Ariadne smirked, snorting. “Well lads! We’ve done it!”

“Cooked it up just this morning!” George added, holding up the vial triumphantly as Hermione smiled as well, shaking her head.

“It’s not going to _woo-oork_!” Ariadne and Hermione taunted in unison.

“Oh yeah?” Fred asked as he and George made faces and leaned over to surround the girls. “And why is that, Grangers?”

“You see this?” Hermione said mockingly, pointing at the floor. “This is an Age Line. Dumbledore drew it himself.”

“So?” George asked. Hermione smiled at him, tapping her book on her leg.

“So! A genius like Dumbledore couldn’t _possibly_ be fooled by a dodge as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion,” she told them.

“But you see that’s why it’s so brilliant!” Fred said, earning an eyebrow raise from both Grangers.

“Because it’s so _pathetically dimwitted_ ,” George added, before standing. Ariadne caught his arm. Was reverse psychology really their plan?

“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll give you a countdown before it throws you out,” she said smugly, patting his arm and smiling sweetly at him. George shook his head at Fred, as if he knew something she didn’t, before the pair stood up on the bench beside them, shaking the vials violently.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George.”

“Bottoms up!” They said in unison, uncorking the vials and linking arms, downing the vials through the others’ elbow. The pair jumped, leaping into the Age Line from the bench.

The circle went red, lashing out at them. Ariadne smiled.

“ _It knows_ ,” she whispered to Hermione, who grinned as the twins, believing they had succeeded, yelled.

“Yeeeessss!!!” they cried, dancing about triumphantly as everyone but the Grangers and Ron clapped, the latter of whom were sitting and knowingly smiling. “Yeahheheheh! Yes!”

“Ready?” George said eagerly, as the pair stood by the Goblet, its magic collaborating with the Age Line as they leaned up and tossed their respective rolled up pieces of parchment in. The four points flashed, as they processed, and Ariadne grinned. “YES!” Fred and George yelled as Ariadne turned to Hermione, the Age Line’s magic beginning to spin like a jet engine.

“Three, two, one…” Ariadne pointed to them just as a veritable octopus of angry red tendrils exploded from the Goblet, slamming into the boys and hurling them into the air, as the crowd gasped, as the twins were thrown over their heads and crashed onto the floor. Cackling laughs began to fill the room, as Ariadne peered curiously through them at the boys, who sat up slowly - did they have beards now?

It seemed the Age Line really did have a sense of humour.

“You said! You said!” they yelled, before throwing themselves at each other angrily. “Oh right you want a piece of me?!” George rolled over the now geriatric Fred, yelling.

“I’ll tear your ears off!” Fred shouted as everyone ran around the Age Line to watch, and Ron stood up on the bench, all yelling _Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!_ Ariadne smugly tilted her head and reopened the Transfiguration textbook as Fred and George rolled around on the floor. “We’re ‘old school,’ right?” he snarled.

“Yeah but you look older!” George retorted as Hermione reopened her own book to her bookmark. Behind the crowd, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open once more, and Ariadne again sensed the red and blue magical core of one Viktor Krum, who strode into the Hall confidently, with Igor Karkaroff and the boy who Ariadne’d heard was a Durmstrang Head Boy or an equivalent thereof behind him.

Viktor stepped purposefully toward the Goblet of Fire as the Hall fell silent, out of embarrassment for their antics or respect for him and Karkaroff, Ariadne did not know. Even Fred and George had stopped their scuffling, but given how Fred seemed to be clutching his back, it was probably just that the Aging potion had probably done a number on him to say the least. The inquisitive tendrils of the Age Line feathered out toward Krum as he stepped over it, its magic wafting in the air as he leaned forward with no hesitation and deposited his name into the Goblet of Fire. The Goblet’s magic warbled as it processed him and Krum stepped back.

To Ariadne’s surprise, as gentle stunned applause filled the Hall, Krum did not step back to Karkaroff. No, instead, he stepped toward the Grangers before Karkaroff reacted.

“Krum!” Karkaroff barked.

“A moment, High Master, please?” Krum said politely, turning to him. “I have been meaning to speak with them for some days.” Ariadne withered under the glare Karkaroff shot at her and Hermione.

“A moment. But remember, Mister Krum, you are here to represent the Durmstrang Institute, not _fraternize_ with Hogwarts girls,” Karkaroff spat. “If I see either of them aboard the _Vulchanova_ …”

“Of course, High Master. Thank you,” Krum replied, as Hermione’s eyes went wide and he stepped over. “Hermione Granger, Ariadne Granger? May I sit?” Ariadne nodded as Karkaroff swooped out of the Hall, shooting her yet another disapproving glare.

“Please,” Hermione said, closing her book again.

“My thanks. I must… apologize, for my High Master, he does not trust me!” Viktor laughed, sitting beside Ron. “Are you well, Ron Weasley? You look a bit… grey.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Long day,” Ron spluttered. Krum nodded understandingly.

“I can relate,” Viktor said, nodding as he leant back with a creaking groan. “You know, Ariadne Granger, many in the Quidditch world are asking about you.”

“Wh-r-w-wh-wh-really?!” Ariadne exclaimed, putting her textbook down. “How come?”

“Because you are… unique, I think he said. You are blind, but an extra-ordinary seeker.” Ariadne blushed. “It is true - I have asked many here. Your opponent.. Draco Malfoy? He says he is better, but I know a boast when I see one. You are his superior.” Ariadne bowed her head in embarrassment. _Viktor Krum_ was calling her an extraordinary seeker?!

“Not-not-not as-not as-not as good as you,” Ariadne replied, hanging her head. “And Malfoy bought his way onto the team.”

“Ha! This I have heard as well,” Viktor laughed. “I would be curious to see you play, if only your Quidditch tournament was happening this year. Perhaps another time.”

“It was cancelled for this. You’re entering?” Hermione said, pointing to the Goblet.

“Yes. I do not know if I will be chosen, but I hope I am. Many at Durmstrang believe I am… nothing more than a… what is the English word, I heard it the other day… a jock. Jock, that is the word?” Hermione nodded. “I will show them, hmm?” he added, smiling.

“Have you read much about the history of the Tournament? It’s really rather fascinating,” Hermione asked eagerly.

“A little. Blood and glory, ah? It is the mark of a skilled wizard to have completed it,” Krum replied. “I promise you, I am no ‘jock,’” he added, tapping his forehead. Hermione smiled.

“So you want to win the Tournament to break the stereotype?” Ariadne asked, smiling. “To show you’re not just good on a broom?”

“Yes!” Viktor exclaimed. “Yes. Many make assumptions - High Master Karkaroff, for example. Great wizard, but he believes too many stereotypes. He thinks I am here to flirt, that you are… groupies!”

“And you’re not?” Ron prompted, frowning. No doubt he’d made the same assumption.

“Of course not! They are both very pretty, but I do not… I do not see girls this way. Or boys. I simply do not,” Krum told Ron, shrugging. Ariadne drew back, remembering something Hermione had read once, all the while blushing that Viktor Krum had called her pretty.

“You’re asexual?” Ariadne asked. Viktor looked at her suddenly, his mouth open slightly as he blinked.

“Huh… I was not aware there was a word…” Viktor mused. “My parents, they say I am broken. _Oh, you will find a nice girl, Viktor, oh you are just a prude_ , bah, I do not care. I will use this word, thank you, Ariadne,” he added gladly.

“You-you’re welcome,” Ariadne spluttered, smiling warmly, as the bell tolled.

“Oh, I should go. It has been… informative. Ariadne, Hermione, Ron. I hope we can speak again soon,” Viktor said quickly, before bowing to them and hurrying out of the Great Hall, muttering the word _asexual_ to himself under his breath.

“See you!” Ariadne called, receiving a smiling nod from the older Seeker as he walked.

“What was that?” Ron asked, frowning. “Asexual?”

“Oh! If he’s asexual, that means he doesn’t experience sexual attraction,” Hermione replied, as Ron blinked. “Like how you or ‘Adne might see… oh, Lavender maybe, as attractive. He just doesn’t get that.”

“Huh…” Ron mused as Hermione stood up.

“I can’t concentrate in here, do you want to go to the library before dinner? It’s quieter,” Hermione announced, holding her book to her chest. 

\--

“Does this look right to you, ‘Adne?” Hermione asked curiously, sliding her parchment over. “I’m pretty sure it’s right, but I’d appreciate a second opinion.” She started double checking the textbook as Ariadne leaned over.

“I’ll take a look. _Aurum_ ink. Something on your mind, Ron?” Ariadne asked, concerned as she spherically eyed her friend sitting beside her and staring into his hands, while she began reading over Hermione’s arithmancy work. Ron had long stopped reading, and had simply been thinking.

“Nah,” Ron grimaced. “Yeah,” he relented, shaking his head and sitting up, tilting his head around the bookshelves. “It’s just… maybe I _should_ put my name on it.” Ariadne’s blood went cold.

“On what? On the _register_?!” Hermione asked, suddenly throwing her textbook down onto the table. “Ron, you can’t!” she exclaimed, gaping at him past Ariadne as Ariadne jumped, facing him with a horrified expression.

“What for?!” Ariadne spluttered. “Ron, you _do_ know what would happen, right?!”

“Yeah, I just…” Ron trailed off, slouching. “If they find out I’m… Dad might not just get fined, he might get _fired_. This isn’t just me, it’s… it’s my whole family,” he groaned.

“Then we make sure they don’t find out!” Hermione exclaimed. “Ron, your name on that list would ruin your life!”

“You try hiding this!” Ron retorted. “You try living with reflective eyes, sick every month and having to wear nose plugs in Herbology! Half the pets in the castle can tell!”

“Ron,” Ariadne said gently. “You didn’t know I was the Girl Who Lived for a year, and I have a scar on my forehead. _Nobody_ knew for a year and a half. Nobody knew I was trans until third year! You only knew because I told you, and Ginny only knew because she walked in on me getting changed. Besides, Remus hid it for nearly thirty years!” she exclaimed, pointing to her forehead and holding up her fringe.

“S’pose,” Ron grumbled. “But… but you being you isn’t… it isn’t dangerous. I am.” Ariadne frowned.

“You’re not- you’re not dangerous, Ron,” Hermione said gently, her mouth hanging open as Ariadne heard her shaking her legs anxiously. 

“If I forgot my potion, I would be,” Ron replied quietly. “If Ariadne hadn’t known about it? I would have changed in my bedroom. I could have killed Mum and Dad. Or Ginny, or Fred or George, or bitten them. All because of a stupid _fucking_ mistake playing with a ball.” Ron took a deep breath, his magic oscillating emotionally. “Sure, it’s funny, to say I’m just a puppy. But that’s only because of the potion. If I didn’t have it, I’d kill either of you in a heartbeat, or bite you.”

“Then if it makes you feel better, make a habit of going past me before you go. I can sense the difference,” Ariadne told him, putting her hand on his back. “Red won’t be hurting anyone on our watch.”

“Thanks,” Ron mumbled. “I’ll think about it.”

“Whatever you decide, we’ll be here every step of the way,” Hermione assured him. “We won’t abandon you, Ron.” Ron nodded gratefully, and Ariadne thought for a moment, the voice of Grace from the WWN ringing in her mind.

> _“How can you even feel safe at Hogwarts though, knowing there’s a monster living in the castle?!”_

_Because he’s my best friend_ , Ariadne thought as they packed up and got ready for dinner. _Because he’s my best friend and I know he would never hurt me_.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it’s easy to forget that Krum is still like, a teenager?? He’s played almost like he’s an adult and gets very little actual dialogue. Lad still lives with his parents and has things to figure out, y’all.  
> I did want to have a character be asexual, since I am myself, but the New Marauders (what I am calling Ariadne, Hermione, Ron and Ginny as Ginny is a lot closer in this and Ron’s a werewolf, so New Marauders) have way too many self-insert traits already lmao.


	118. The Goblet of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is horrified by what comes out of the Goblet of Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I’m pretty sure I’ve written a panic attack here?

“Thanks Hermione, that really helped,” Ron said as Hermione undid the rather strong Sense-Limiting Jinx she’d placed on Ron’s nose for Herbology - it was a simple jinx and rarely used outside of tiny pranks, but it had conveniently knocked out his sense of smell entirely. She’d suggested it that morning, knowing Ron would worry about his use of noseplugs, and Ron had gladly let her envelop his nose in an orange glimmer. “C’mon, we’d better go or we won’t get good seats!” he added, bursting forward into a jog.

The day had come. Thursday the 9th. The Triwizard Champions were to be chosen, and Ariadne had to admit she was just as excited as her peers, even knowing the dangers the Champions would be put through, as they jogged their way toward the Great Hall. Ron was clearly having to hold himself back as he kept ending up hanging in the hallways, waiting for the Grangers to catch up with him.

He hadn’t come to a decision about the register yet, at least not one that he’d told the girls. He’d even asked the twins about their opinion when they’d gotten back from the Hospital Wing after having their Aging Potions reversed, and the pair had told him - in a moment of rare genuine candor from them - that they’d support him not putting his name on no matter what happened, and that they’d support the family on their joke shop income if they had to. Once the shop existed, that was, they were still working on funding product development, let alone actual entrance to the market. He’d also sent an owl to his parents, but he was still waiting on a reply. Ariadne hated the whole situation. How it had all snowballed in only a few months. First Remus, then Ron, then the register. She hated how suddenly Ron had been forced to grow up, to take on so much more responsibility than he’d ever needed to before on the day she’d desperately pulled him to the Hospital Wing, hoping against all hope it wasn’t true. It was even worse when she considered he was a year younger than she was thanks to the Time Turners, and two years younger than Hermione. He was fourteen, and bearing the weight of his whole family on his back, a weight which she knew would snap him like a twig if he couldn’t keep the secret.

Today was not the day to worry, Ariadne told herself as they slowed down to join the throng of students gathered at the doorway. Today was the first day of the Triwizard Tournament, and while she worried for whoever the Champions would be, she would cheer them on all the same. They’d be skilled witches and wizards, of age and having undergone near a decade of magical training, and she wondered what the Tasks would be and how the Champions would face them.

“Hey guys!” Ginny called, waving them over to where she was sitting as they finally found their way inside the Great Hall. Each House table had been split in the middle of their length, placed with a large gap between them where the Goblet of Fire stood, its magic glimmering resplendently, with one minor difference to it Ariadne frowned at. There was a pair of slowly spinning orange concentric rings around the ‘nerve centre’ of the Goblet, buzzing ever so slightly. “How was Herbology?” Ginny asked as they sat down on the benches which lay in a staircase arrangement on the side of the Hall and the clock tower bell chimed.

“Bubotuber Pus,” Hermione replied, shuddering. “Wish I’d used that jinx on myself instead of Ron.”

“Jinx?” Ginny asked, as Hermione tapped her nose. “Ohh, that jinx. Yeah, isn’t that stuff supposed to smell horrible?”

“Smelled like a petrol station in there,” Ariadne groaned. “Seamus rolled up his sleeves and got it all over his arm, had to go to Madam Pomfrey for the boils,” she added, chuckling.

“My arm is just fine now, thank you very much Granger,” Seamus called, standing a few seats down the table. He did not, however, have his sleeves rolled up like he often did. “And I don’t remember you being the picture of precision with yours either.”

“That’s because I couldn’t see it!” Ariadne protested. “Wouldn’t take my spell.” She had indeed spilled quite a lot, but not much on herself. Whether the plants they studied were actually visible to her varied - some were only breeds that had been created by magic, while others were inherently magical themselves. Bubotubers were not the latter, and nor was their pus - as a liquid, the pus didn’t take the  _ Aurum _ spell either. “Hey, is something different about the Goblet? It looks different to me.”

“Different? How?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“Maybe it’s been sealed. Like a ballot box, waiting to be counted,” Hermione replied as Dumbledore got everyone’s attention. Ariadne frowned. She knew the Goblet had still been available that day, Dumbledore had said ‘ _ this hour Thursday night _ ,’ implying that it would have been sealed at the toll of the bell, not before.

“Sit down, please,” Professor Dumbledore called as Barty Crouch and the other Headmasters gathered at the head table. “Now the moment, you’ve all been waiting for!” he cried as everyone clattered to their seats hurriedly. “The Champion selection!” Dumbledore spun dramatically, throwing his arm out toward the braziers that hung from the ceiling and lashing a green tendril of magic at them. He turned, the tendril moving from brazier to brazier, before it sputtered away and Dumbledore turned to the Goblet of Fire.

The entire Hall watched with bated breath as he touched a shaking palm to the Goblet’s rim, and the Goblet’s magic shifted suddenly, becoming mostly gold with purple pips within.  _ That _ looked more like a proverbial sealed ballot box. Ariadne tilted her head curiously as a series of green filaments spread from the Professor’s outstretched fingers as he pulled away from it, before the magic of the four points which signified its flame shifted from blue to green and the webbing between it and Professor Dumbledore snapped.

With a fiery heaving noise, the points flared and Ariadne’s glasses caught a tiny speck of paper be propelled out of the Goblet and into the air, just as the white elements of the Goblet’s magic spat at the table where most of the Durmstrang students sat, and rings of sinewy golden magic spun themselves around the magical core of Viktor Krum.

The Durmstrang Champion had been chosen, as Ariadne smiled. He’d get his chance to break stereotypes.

“The Durmstrang Champion is: Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore declared, plucking the parchment out of the air to a roar of applause from the Durmstrang seats which spread across the Hall in clapping that Ariadne joined in, a little more enthusiastically than some of her peers. The Goblet blazed again as Krum strode proudly past Dumbledore and into the antechamber he was pointed to by Karkaroff, and another speck of paper flew into the air, accompanied by a spike of white toward the Beauxbatons table - the golden strings forming around the magical core of the part-Veela student Ariadne had noticed. 

“The Beauxbatons Champion is: Fleur Delacour!” Dumbledore cried, as applause once again split the Hall and Fleur Delacour stood, shaking Dumbledore’s hand before being pointed on to the same antechamber. For a third and final time, the Goblet of Fire’s four points brightened, and the Hogwarts Champion was chosen as magical cords formed around the core of Cedric Diggory and Dumbledore caught his name.

“The Hogwarts Champion! Cedric Diggory!” Ariadne smiled and clapped for the boy who stepped up to the school’s applause and support. Shaking the boy’s hand, Professor Dumbledore clapped his shoulder as he urged him over to the antechamber gladly. “EXCELLENT! We now have our three Champions!” Dumbledore cried, raising his arms as Barty Crouch carried something over to a podium. “But in the end, only  _ one _ will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions! This vessel of victory!  _ The Triwizard Cup! _ ” he boomed, turning and throwing his arm toward what Barty had just deposited, casting the covering cloth off of it with a spike of yellow magic, revealing the Triwizard Cup. The Cup itself was magical, glittering in gold, but that was not what drew Ariadne’s attention.

The Goblet of Fire was still active. Its magic shuddered, once, twice, a third time, as the orange rings around it flared. It seemed she was not the only one who’d noticed, as the flame hissed angrily and Dumbledore turned back to it, stepping along to investigate with a frown on his face.

The Goblet of Fire was supposed to go  _ out _ when the Champions had been selected, was it not? Ariadne had read that, she was certain of it. The Goblet went out until reactivated for the next Tournament.

Yet out, it had not gone. Ariadne frowned as the crowd drew back, as the points went white hot. Was there to be a second Champion for each school? That wasn’t in the rules, and among Crouch, Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Maxime, none had reacted as if they knew. Karkaroff looked downright furious.

With a boom, another name was spat from the Goblet as Ariadne’s heart stopped.

A white blast had shot out toward her, and as she froze, golden white cords had wrapped around her magical core.

“No…” she whispered, horrified as she internally stared at her magic. “Nonononononono…”

“What is it, ‘Adne?” Ginny hissed, as Dumbledore plucked a fourth piece of paper from the air.

“Ariadne Granger…” Dumbledore murmured. Ron jumped, gaping at Ariadne as he frantically looked to her, back to Dumbledore, and back to her again. Whispers had already begun closer to Dumbledore, as people on the far tables began leaning to each other. Ariadne shrunk down as best she could, almost slipping off the bench.

This wasn’t happening.

This  _ could not _ be happening. She had to be dreaming, she thought as she pinched the back of her hand. No. Not dreaming, she realized, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

“Ariadne Granger!” Dumbledore called. Everyone was looking at her as she went completely numb. The world was spinning as Ginny gaped at her. “ARIADNE GRANGER!” Professor Dumbledore bellowed, but she barely heard it as all the sound she could make was the tiniest squeak of terror, her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

She could not be a Triwizard Champion. She couldn’t.

“Go, Ariadne,” Hermione whispered, her own core spasming in fear but nowhere near as much as Ariadne’s was, as she patted her shoulder urgently. “Ariadne,  _ go _ ,” she urged, pulling Ariadne up onto her feet. She nearly fainted then and there, as her head throbbed and she stood, shuddering and horrified before the entire Hall. Hermione pushed her forward gently, forcing her to start walking amongst the ever growing whispers.

Ariadne could barely tell the world around her as her mind plummeted into a spiral of fear. She had read enough about the Triwizard Tournament to know she was doomed if she had to compete. As far as she was concerned, a gruesome death lay behind the antechamber door, as she approached Professor Dumbledore, unable to contain her terror as tears began to escape her eyes as she gulped in a huge mouthful of air, as she hadn’t been breathing, and held it.

Professor Dumbledore handed her the paper. She hadn’t even realized she was so close to him.

“I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I di-I di-I-I-I-I-I-I- I-didn-” Ariadne struggled to say as every muscle in her body pushed against her, urging her to run, to flee. Frowning, she took the piece of burnt parchment, and flipped it over. No magically glowing letters greeted her. “I- I can’t- I can’t-” she spluttered, before Dumbledore took her shoulder and gently pushed her onward down the aisle toward the antechamber door.

“She’s a cheat!” someone yelled as she struggled just to step forward. “She’s not even 17 yet!”

Ariadne tripped on the steps, as she went past Professor Snape. Her chin smacked into the wooden floor with a crack, as Snape stared at her and Professor McGonagall stepped forward silently to pick her up by the shoulders, discarding the goblet she held on the floor as she patted Ariadne’s arm and sent her toward the door. 

Karkaroff was glaring at her as she shuddered past, her breath coming in short bursts and her chest squeezing as she began to hyperventilate. Professor Moody was passive and expressionless as she desperately leaned on the doorway to steady herself. Her fingers hopelessly slid along the stone brick wall of the stairwell as she stumbled down it, tears falling from her chin as she fell, crashing to the stairs and rolling down a handful. As she stood, bruised and well and truly crying, an enchanted gate lashed out at her magic, before creaking open as she numbly stepped into the vibrantly magical trophy room, her hiccoughing sniffles echoing through the chamber as she found flat ground again. Viktor, Cedric and Fleur all stood by a fireplace, where they span to see her.

“What the-” Cedric muttered, before shooting forward as she sobbed. “Granger? What’s wrong?” he asked, as Viktor frowned and stepped over as well. “Oh my god…” Cedric murmured, as he looked down toward the piece of parchment Ariadne held in her left hand. “It’s okay, breathe, in… out… in… out…”

“It’s wrong! It’s wrong, I tell you!” Madam Maxime bellowed as the door opened above and Ariadne jumped, squeezing her eyes shut pointlessly as she was followed by the headmasters, Crouch and Professors McGonagall, Snape and Moody.

“You French tart! Everything is a conspiracy theory with you!” Professor Moody snarled as Ariadne lost the breathing exercise again and resumed her hyperventilation involuntarily.

“Quiet, I can’t think!” Dumbledore yelled as he hurried down the stairs and Ariadne backed away.

“Everything is a conspiracy theory!” Moody repeated angrily, as Madam Maxime yelled that she protested.

“Ariadne!” Dumbledore barked, running down the last steps as Ariadne spluttered to get out of his way. “Ariadne!” No sooner than he’d gotten down the stairs, Dumbledore’s hands were on her shoulders as she fled backward into a stack of trophies with a cacophonous clang. “Ariadne, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?!” he growled intently as Ariadne screamed. She couldn’t reply, she could only shake her head violently as Dumbledore in turn shook her. “Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?!” She hadn’t even stopped shaking her head. “You’re  _ absolutely sure?! _ ” Ariadne’s shuddering head-shaking became a vigorous nod as she struggled to breathe.

“But of course she is lying!” Madam Maxime spat as she pushed a lantern that hung from the ceiling out of her way to stride toward them, as Ariadne’s vocal chords betrayed her and she could not stop herself from wailing in despair.

“The hell she is!” Moody bellowed. “The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm could have hoodwinked it! Magic  _ way _ beyond the talents of a fourth year, even this one’s!” Ariadne idly contemplated what she’d sensed as she slid down to the floor, Cedric taking her arm as he tried to keep urging her to breathe.

“In, out… in, out… in, out… breathe,” Cedric murmured as Karkaroff stepped between her and Dumbledore to put himself before Moody.

“You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought,  _ Mad-Eye _ ,” Karkaroff spat as Ariadne tried not to think about how absolutely certain her death was if she were required to complete the Triwizard Tournament. She’d read the stories. She’d read the histories. She knew.

“It was once my job to think as Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, perhaps you remember,” Moody snarled as the pair stood off, before Dumbledore pushed between them.

“This doesn’t help, Alastor!” Dumbledore growled as he shoved past the pair, separating them as he strode over to where a silent and thoughtful Barty Crouch was standing, staring at other trophies. “Leave this to you, Barty,” Dumbledore said as the Professors gathered.

“The rules are absolute,” Barty said, fear in even his voice. “The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract,” he said, identifying the golden ropes around her magic as he span to face Dumbledore. “Miss Granger has no choice. She is, as of tonight… a Triwizard Champion.”

As the group turned to stare at her, Ariadne could only manage one word as she bawled into her skirt, shaking as she cried, Cedric and Viktor both with hands on her back as Fleur frowned at her thoughtfully.

“ _ No! _ ”

\--

“Ariadne!” Ginny gasped as Professor McGonagall led her, holding her by both shoulders as she held her arms across herself, from the antechamber back into the Great Hall where it was effectively only them waiting. “Are you all right?” she asked as she ran to her side. Ariadne tapped her arm twice, shaking her head.  _ No _ . Hermione deflated and pulled her into a hug. She wasn’t crying anymore, but she was completely numb and mute to the world.

“Will you be all right, Ariadne?” Professor McGonagall asked quietly. “I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore, will you be all right if I leave you with your sister and the Weasleys?” One tap.  _ Yes _ .

“She says ‘yes,’ Professor,” Hermione told Professor McGonagall, who nodded and grimaced.

“Get some sleep, Ariadne. And make sure she gets something to drink, it was only recently she’s stopped crying her eyes out,” McGonagall whispered.

“You mean- oh my god. She’s in the Tournament, isn’t she?” Hermione asked, gaping. McGonagall gave only a pained sigh, and nodded in unison with Ariadne. “Oh my god, Ariadne!” she exclaimed in horror, pulling her sister to her again.

“I am sorry, I really must go. Do try to get some sleep, Ariadne,” McGonagall said kindly, rubbing her shoulder with a face of pity before she strode off purposefully. Hermione rolled around Ariadne, an arm around her as she guided her little sister out of the Great Hall.

“How did…  _ did _ you put your name in?” Ron asked, frowning. Ariadne shook her head, facing the ground with her hair tumbling around her face. “Didn’t think so.”

“You believe me?” Ariadne mumbled, still talking down to the floor. At least Ron’s ears were strong.

“‘Course I do. I know you well enough to know you’re not lying,” Ron replied, rubbing the arm Hermione wasn’t holding to her. “And like Hermione said to me; we’re not going to abandon you. We’re going to get you through this.”

“Stand alone,” Ariadne muttered. “He said ‘you stand alone.’” She knew they weren’t supposed to help her.

“Like hell!” Ron growled, stopping them and standing in front of Ariadne. “We are  _ not _ letting you stand alone. Never!” Ginny nodded emphatically, as Hermione did the same.

“We’re helping you, Ariadne. That’s non-negotiable,” Hermione said into her ear. “You’re my sister, do you really think I’d let you go into the  _ Triwizard Tournament _ without help?” she asked, maneuvering to stand beside Ron. “You’ve helped all of us. Me when we were little. Ron with his lycanthropy. All three of us after second year.  _ Our turn _ ,” Hermione declared, as Ariadne took in the line of her three closest friends standing before her. Maybe she might survive this after all.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. Planning this year has been oh so fun, I can’t wait.  
> We also have the interesting change of no conflict with Ron! Ariadne is a lot more openly emotional than canon!Harry, so Ron can pretty much tell that no, she did not put her name in, she is obviously terrified. Plus, she’s part of his pack. With Red running around in his brain, there’s no way he’d do that to her.


	119. She's a Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne struggles with the fallout of her unwillingly joining the Triwizard Tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She’s had her break. All bets are off now, folks >:)

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ Hermione and Professor McGonagall told us what happened. We’re so sorry we can’t be there, but Professor McGonagall says we’ll be invited to the third task in June. We can’t express how scared we are on your behalf, so we won’t try. Instead, we’ll say this: _
> 
> _ We love you.  _ Please  _ reach out, to your friends, to your teachers. Please don’t shut down, we know you tend to. You can’t shut yourself away, not now. We agree with Ron - to hell with standing alone. Your friends want to help you.  _ **_Let them_ ** _. _
> 
> _ You’ve been so brave, for the last few years, with everything that’s happened. I know we were angry, but it must be pointed out that you killed a  _ Basilisk _ when you were  _ **_twelve_ ** _. We read the entry for it in that book Newt Scamander wrote. You killed a Basilisk, that is not nothing, that thing has one of the highest danger ratings in there. You are so much braver than you know, so much stronger than you know, and you can do this. You can get through this, and with Hermione, Ron and Ginny’s help, you will. Bring that extraordinary bravery to the Tournament, and you’ll come out unscathed. _
> 
> _ With Love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad. _

Sleep did not come to Ariadne that night, nor did it come easily subsequent nights as she found herself once again unwittingly the centre of Hogwarts’ attention - but not the same adoring, questioning attention she’d had in her second year. No, this was more akin to the hate mail she’d received after coming out as transgender, the mail she burned.

There were those who believed her. Mostly her classmates, but not all of them, and certainly very few among the Slytherins. But the prevailing belief among the student body was that she was, as someone had called out in the Great Hall, a cheat. That she’d somehow futzed with the Goblet, and gotten herself put in and was pretending to be scared. Others, meanwhile, had taken a strange kind of pity on her, that she  _ had _ done it but with no intent to be chosen and that she’d made a poor decision in a moment of fooling about. Opinions ranged everywhere inbetween, and whispers and rumours followed her wherever she went. She didn’t need to be able to sense where peoples’ eyes were pointing to know she was being stared at.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny had gone with her wherever she went as best they could, as Ron served perhaps the deadliest glares she’d ever seen in the tenseness of his eyelids to those who called in the corridors. She’d even heard the gentle thrum of a held-back growl in his throat when Draco Malfoy had called her an “attention-seeking freakish weirdo with a death wish,” prompting all three of them to have their wands on the Slytherin boy in a split second, even Ginny despite her magical suppression. Professor Snape had docked points from Gryffindor for the incident, but thankfully no spells had flown. It wasn’t just Malfoy though - she could barely go between classes without someone calling her names, and not just for the Tournament. Her blindness, her being transgender, even her short stature. All were fodder for mockery. Some of the worst, but not in intent, was even from those who were closer to believing her. Those who whispered behind her back that she would be dead in a few months. Who were silent and solemn as she walked by, Ron’s ears catching their hushed pity as he assured her they were wrong, that she’d be okay.

Despite her parents’ urging, she had most definitely shut down, and even her three friends were worried. She sensed them grimacing and sharing scared looks as she fumbled in Herbology, and she often refused to talk. 

Ariadne struggled to bring her brain to bear as she sat down for Transfiguration on Wednesday, the words of Bartemius Crouch echoing in her mind - ‘ _ The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important. _ ’ It was hard to be courageous when even Barty sounded worried. She reluctantly set down her bag beside her desk, and pulled out her books, pen and ink as the class settled and Professor McGonagall stood up from her desk.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” Ariadne mumbled, jabbing her wand sluggishly at the book as she opened  _ Intermediate Transfiguration _ .

“Good morning class,” Professor McGonagall called. “First, if you would hand in the homework I assigned on Monday,” she announced, prompting the whole room to fill with the sounds of students rifling through bags as Ariadne pulled her bag onto her lap. There was her notebook, there was one of the textbooks, there was her spare vial of ink…

Where was her homework?

Ariadne jumped, paring through parchment in her bag to see if it had become shuffled into her other work, the words glimmering out at her in her magical ink. Nowhere did she find the worksheet Professor McGonagall had given her.

She hadn’t done it, she realized with a start. It had completely slipped her mind, she had been so preoccupied. As McGonagall stepped over, the stack in her hand growing and an expectant look on her face, Ariadne could not bring herself to face her as her jaw went tense and her chin shuddered. McGonagall frowned ever so slightly, before simply patting her on the shoulder.

“Just get it to me when you’ve done it, okay?” McGonagall murmured, rubbing her arm before moving on to collect Hermione’s. One sentiment exploded through Ariadne’s mind:  _ what?! _ Not only had she never missed a single homework assignment at Hogwarts in the entire four years she’d attended, not even for Divination, but McGonagall was  _ known _ for being particular about homework. But she had just made an exception, and Ariadne wasn’t sure if she felt reassured or even more anxious as Professor McGonagall chewed Ron out for forgetting to put his name on his. Both? She knew exactly why McGonagall was going easy on her, and it was both nice of her and scary.

Swallowing, Ariadne silently turned to the relevant page of the textbook as Professor McGonagall stacked the sheets on her desk and set a paperweight on them. They’d been beginning cross-species transfigurations, and there were a number of examples in  _ Intermediate Transfiguration _ .

“Did she just-” a Hufflepuff student whispered somewhere off to the right of Ariadne. “Did she just let Granger off?”

“Of course she did,” Ernest Macmillan replied quietly as Ron straightened slightly in his seat, obviously able to hear them clearly. “She gets special treatment now, because she’s a  _ Champion _ .” Ariadne shrunk down in her seat as Ron and Hermione glared at the Hufflepuff pair, before Professor McGonagall spoke.

“Today, we will be continuing our work on transfiguring examples of one species into another - today, that will be turning guinea fowl into guinea  _ pigs _ . As so,” McGonagall announced, placing a cage onto her desk, within which a plump bird stood. “ _ Fiolius _ ,” she declared, twisting her wand to blow a wave of orange energy at the somewhat chicken-like bird, warping its form before what stood in the cage was very much no longer a bird, but rather a large, almost cylindrical, rodent which sniffed at the air curiously. “Remember to carefully picture a guinea pig in your mind. Once I have brought you a guinea fowl, you may begin,” she told them, magically distributing a cage with a bird in it to each of them. Ariadne dutifully moved her textbook out of the way as her one was gently placed before her by a yellow-glowing tendril. Frowning intently, she took in the guinea pig McGonagall had Transfigured at the front of the class. She’d always had a little difficulty with animals, she could never quite get them right from description alone, so the example was helpful. 

Orange bursts began filling the room as everyone began their attempts. Ariadne tried to ignore the various failed attempts as she tried to focus on textures, of the fur she could vaguely sense.

“ _ Fiolius _ ,” she muttered, twisting her wand at the bird she’d been given, the resultant orange burst waving over the guinea fowl and twisting it into the squeaking form of a guinea pig.

It definitely seemed to have the right proportions, and it was demonstrably a guinea pig, but something must have been wrong with it from how Hermione was frowning. Had she gotten the number of toes wrong?

“Did… did I get something wrong?” she asked quietly, as Hermione only smiled at her.

“Not wrong, just different. It’s blue,” Hermione replied gently. “So are its eyes and teeth, actually.” Ariadne groaned. She’d completely forgotten, in her concentration on getting the fur right, to imagine it in different colours than the  _ aurum _ spell was revealing the example guinea pig to her in, as the blue waves cascaded over the room from her glasses. As she frustratedly rechecked the textbook for the incantation to reverse it, hushed conversation met her ears.

“Of  _ course _ she put her name in,” Lavender hissed across her table to Kellah, who shook her head.

“I don’t know, even Fred and George couldn’t,” Kellah replied, holding her wand to her somewhat large guinea pig.

“Pff. They tried an Aging Potion. How do you think Granger knew it wouldn’t work?” Lavender said. “We know she’s clever enough to have done it, I bet she’s read all about Age Lines and how to get past them. She couldn’t endure a boring year, she just  _ had _ to enter.” Ron was looking over, Ariadne noted as she instinctively tensed up, blinking as her eyes stung. She jumped as Professor McGonagall’s hand met her arm, patting her on the shoulder as the woman tilted her head to the side as if for her to follow. Ariadne hesitantly stood up, leaning on the desks as she followed Professor McGonagall to her office.

“Are you all right, M- Ariadne?” Professor McGonagall asked quietly as she closed the door, silence surrounding them. Ariadne shrugged, her expression neutral and her fingers rubbing her knuckles as McGonagall flicked her wand to pull a chair out with a yellow spike. To Ariadne’s surprise, instead of sitting behind her desk, McGonagall conjured another chair and sat on it herself, as Ariadne hesitantly sat down on the one she’d pulled, to face her. “Have a biscuit, I got melting moments this time,” she told her, offering her the plastic packet. Ariadne gratefully took one, biting into it as crumbs cascaded down her robe. “I must ask. Is there anything you need? Do you need time out of classes, do you need help with your work? You’re clearly under a lot of stress right now.”

“‘M fine,” Ariadne mumbled through a mouthful of shortbread and buttercream.

“Respectfully, Miss Granger, no you are not,” Professor McGonagall told her. “Not once in your history at Hogwarts have you forgotten a homework assignment, not even when your sister was petrified.” Ariadne grimaced, accepting she was right. But what was she supposed to do? She’d been unwillingly entered into perhaps the most dangerous sporting event known to the wizarding world as a fifteen year old girl. Her only role model was a mutilated eleven-year-old french girl from the late seventeenth century. She could feel a tear escaping her left eye.

“Scared,” Ariadne muttered, fiddling with her robe, still not facing the deputy headmistress as she spluttered, with no idea what to say. Professor McGonagall leaned forward and put a hand on her knee.

“I understand, Ariadne,” she simply said. “Now, I cannot in my position as a teacher condone your being directly assisted with the Tournament but… should you wish to study advanced spells, I wouldn’t expect any of the faculty to see any problem with helping you study, hmm? You are a very capable young witch, I think you will be surprised at how well you can do.” Ariadne didn’t respond. The words were kind, even supportive offering surreptitious assistance, but she could hear the fear in McGonagall’s voice. “I am not a counsellor, but I  _ am _ your head of house. Should you need  _ anything _ , please come to me. Even if you merely need a listening ear, or a distraction.” Ariadne nodded mutely. “Would you like to go over that worksheet in here?”

As Ariadne gratefully set about working on the homework she’d neglected, one thought dominated her mind. That they were being nice to her. Too nice. They were being nice to her because, come November 24th and the first task, she would be dead, and they knew it as much as she did.

\--

Ariadne was pensive as she sat in the Common Room, slowly eating the packet of melting moments Professor McGonagall had given her, saying she had more. Later in the lesson time, after returning from checking on the increasingly noisy class McGonagall had told her that Rita Skeeter would be there that weekend, on Sunday the 19th, for photos and an interview. Ariadne didn’t know what she was going to say.

That she feared for her life? That she would almost certainly be dead months before June, and if she wasn’t then her parents would bear witness to her demise? Or a pretend face of happiness, to be in a Tournament that had killed dozens, enjoying her torture?  _ Oh I’m having a great time, knowing the exact calendar dates I’ll probably die on, as well as not knowing who put me in to get me killed _ , Ariadne thought sarcastically as she noticed Ginny had gathered Hermione and Ron to her on the balcony above as they both came back from their dorms, whispering something. Ariadne frowned. What were they talking about? Hermione was nodding, an almost forlorn look on her face as Ariadne tried to focus on the book she had intended to be reading.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” she muttered, opening  _ The Decline of Pagan Magic _ by Bathilda Bagshot to her bookmark and sitting back, holding the book open in her lap. It was actually fairly interesting, to read about how such a diverse field of magic had been so neglected - ritual forms of magic, such as the practice of becoming an Animagus, had its roots in it, but modern witches and wizards didn’t tend to use it for its inconvenience. So much of it had been lost to time as well, as orthodox powers had corrupted what stories remained and so much of it had simply been passed down as an oral discipline. Potion making was certainly one of the last vestiges of such magic, and it had become so far divorced from its roots that one could not trace back the magic it started with. Ancient Runes was perhaps the closest, with runic magic remaining a difficult field of magic simply due to the lack of possible documentation.

“Whatcha reading?” Ginny asked, casting herself down upon the couch beside her unceremoniously as Ron jogged down the stairs - he had more energy now it was new moon and he’d largely recovered.

“Hmm? Oh.  _ Decline of Pagan Magic _ ,” Ariadne replied quietly, as Hermione came down with a book and Crookshanks in her arms. “Got it out the other day.” Ginny hummed curiously, leaning over and reading a little over her shoulder. Ariadne frowned as Ron and Hermione sat down around her as well, and Ginny bit her lip. “What?”

“Um. Okay. Um,” Ginny said slowly. “Do you have a plan? On how you’re going to deal with the Tournament?” she asked hesitantly, looking directly at Ariadne’s face. Ariadne shuddered, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t what she was wanting to talk about. She shook her head. Ginny nodded, as if she’d expected it. “Okay, okay. Do you know what the first task will be, have they told you?”

“No,” Ariadne muttered, shaking her head again and not facing any of them. “They-the-they-theth-they-they-they aren’t going to.” Ginny grimaced.

“Okay. Then you need to start practicing,” Ginny told her, putting Ariadne’s bookmark into the book and taking it from her.

“Hey! Practicing what?!” Ariadne whined, reaching for the book Ginny had put down and closed on the opposite side of herself, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Everything. Look, ‘Adne, I know you don’t want this. I know you just want to sit here and read  _ The Decline of Pagan Magic _ by Bathilda Bagshot, but you’re shutting yourself away and we can’t let that happen, not now. You’re not going to do this of your own accord, so we’re making sure you do,” Ginny told her, with an unusual degree of resolute command to her voice that was enough to make Ariadne draw back in surprise, her jaw quivering as she tried to find a way out of the conversation. “So. You don’t know what the first task is, so you have to generalize. Dueling, curses, countercurses, jinxes above your level. You have to be ready for this, and we’ll be damned if we don’t make bloody well sure you are.”

“And not just magic,” Hermione added. “Combat skills. I’ve been reading up on what the tasks of previous Tournaments were, one of them was to hunt a Thunderbird and kill it, all three underage Champions were killed,” she said, holding up the book she was carrying.  _ That _ did not exactly fill Ariadne with hope. “You need to learn how to fight properly, dodge things, even without your glasses.” Ariadne gaped at Hermione. How was she supposed to become a first rate duelist in just over two months?! A  _ blind _ first rate duelist?! Obviously seeing Ariadne’s incredulity, Hermione put a hand on Ariadne’s leg. “Besides, you’ll like your first lesson.  _ Library, now _ ,” Hermione ordered, as Ginny almost pulled Ariadne out of the seat and the three hounded her out of the Common Room, dragging her downstairs to the library. On the way, Ron pulled out a piece of paper.

“Okay, so you haven’t got Quidditch practice, so we’ll use that slot, Wednesdays and Sundays, as well as any free periods,” Ron announced, reading as he walked. “You can practice on me because I’m a bit more hardy than these two,” he added, smiling at her.

“Practice on you?!” Ariadne spluttered as she kept up with a hell-bent Hermione.

“Curses, jinxes, all that. If you can get me, then you’re doing well,” Ron replied, patting her on the back. “All right, I’ll go look in the Reference Section,” he announced as they got to the library. “Anything that might be good, I’ll bring over there,” he called, pointing to a table where Hermione had set up parchment and the book she’d been carrying and walking off.  _ That _ surprised Ariadne.  _ Ronald Weasley _ actively searching the library by section?!

“Ariadne, you and I can check the downstairs spellwork sections, and Ginny, if you could check the upstairs?” Hermione said, as she pointed Ginny to the staircase and Ginny nodded, jogging off. “Come on, ‘Adne,” she added, almost pulling Ariadne by the sleeve. “We’ll also need to figure out  _ where _ we’re practicing, and if we can get permission to check in the Restricted Section. I’ll also start working on a pair of spare glasses for you tomorrow, just in case.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if it’s the *healthiest* way to get her out of her funk, but those three are taking it into their own hands.


	120. International Magical Cooperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After yet another emotional interview with Rita Skeeter, Ariadne finds alliances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it says something about me that I keep giving her panic attacks lmao.

“And big smiles!” Rita Skeeter cried, standing beside the familiar yellow and green cameraman as a cone of green light enveloped the trophy room with a smoky snap, capturing Ariadne and Fleur sitting cross-legged in wooden chairs, the boys flanking them from a standing position. It was not exactly a big smile that adorned Ariadne’s face, more a grimace. After realizing she was going to be late, Ariadne had hurriedly made her way to the trophy room, nursing a bruised knee after trying to dodge a surprisingly strong jelly-legs jinx from Ginny during their first proper session of what Hermione was officiously calling ‘training.’ She’d nearly been late, and most definitely had  _ not _ had time to make herself presentable. A few spells later, and she at least bore eyeshadow and her robes weren’t quite so ruffled, but without Sleekeazy, her hair was all a-tumbling in messy curls about her head. Fleur, meanwhile, was in her dress robe, her smooth hair done up in a simple ponytail, while Viktor bore his furred hat and coat, as well as his staff. Cedric may have worn the boys’ version of the same uniform as her, but he was definitely far more put together, and even Ariadne could smell the amount of hair product in the room.

“I think that’ll do, we’ll get some individual shots later,” Skeeter muttered, stepping around the camera. “What a charismatic quartet,” she sighed. “Hello! I’m Rita Skeeter, I write for the  _ Daily Prophet _ ,” Rita said, stepping over and shaking their hands enthusiastically, a wide toothy smile filling her face. “But of course, you know that don’t you? It’s  _ you _ we don’t know!” she declared, licking her lips. “Well, except for you, of course Ariadne, but I’m sure there’s more we haven’t scratched. You’re the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks, what mysteries do the muscles mask, does courage lie beneath those curls?” she mused performatively, slapping Fleur’s cheek playfully to the french girl’s apparent dismay, before curling behind Viktor and ruffling Cedric’s hair. “Me myself and I want to know, not to mention my rabid readers, so, who’s feeling up to sharing?”

Ariadne shrunk in her seat as Rita stood directly behind her. She hadn’t even turned to follow her like Fleur had, she didn’t have to, but even Fleur had hesitantly looked way, as had Cedric and Viktor. It seemed Ariadne was not the only one worried about the reporter - until then, Rita had for the most part treated Ariadne well, but her experience of the last week had only put her on guard. What preconceptions had Rita walked into the room with? Was she, as she had been when she’d called Ariadne a nervous wreck, ‘a bit tetchy?’ It had been over a year since Ariadne had last been interviewed by the woman, and her recent appearances had only been controversial to say the least.

What had Rita thought when Ariadne had so publicly called her own publication’s actions disgusting, and aligned herself with Remus Lupin, only a few months before?

Skeeter’s expression flickered ever so slightly before a hand clapped onto Ariadne’s shoulder.

“Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely,” she declared, pulling Ariadne up from the chair by the arm and veritably dragging her away as Cedric doubled back out of the way, looking between them quizzically. The boy frowned as Rita pulled a spluttering Ariadne over to a side door behind the bank of trophies they’d been taking photos before. “The glasses are new, I see. We’re matching,” Rita said, smiling to her and fiddling with the chain of her own glasses pointedly. She pulled the door open with a creaking clunk, revealing a small almost spiral space, wherein lay a few brooms, brushes and what was probably a paint pot. Pulling Ariadne in, Rita half closed the door again and turned to her. “Well this is cozy,” she said, as Ariadne sensed the characteristic QuickNotes quill leap up from atop the paint can.

“Uh-um.. It’s a broom cupboard?” Ariadne mumbled, taking in the tiny space she was standing in, her head nearly touching the ceiling even with her short stature.

“You should feel right at home then,” Rita replied, taking her shoulder again and gently pushing her toward the spiral stairs that led down a slight way, as she frantically splayed her arms out to keep her balance on them.

“Not… not-not-non-not really, no,” Ariadne mumbled, resenting the allusion to her life before the Grangers as she found a ledge to sit on by what appeared to be a window. She really did have to worry - Rita’s attitude toward her had definitely fouled.

“So tell me, Ariadne,” Rita said, sitting down on a step. “Here you sit, a little girl of fourteen, about to compete against three students not only  _ vastly  _ more emotionally mature than yourself, but who have mastered spells that you wouldn’t even attempt yet. Concerned?” she asked, a look far too close to mirth for Ariadne’s comfort covering her face as her chin rested on her knuckle and the QuickNotes quill started scratching away.

“I-I mean… yeah?” Ariadne mumbled, not facing the reporter. “I’ve-I’ve… I’ve read about how dangerous this is, sometimes  _ every _ champion would die…” she threw her hands up, before clapping them back down over her thigh, not sure what to say. “I’ve been studying, it’s why I’m all a mess, but… I’m not ready for this,” she admitted quietly. “I mean, what if they throw a dragon at me?! I can’t see fire!” she exclaimed, slumping by the window.

“Well,” Rita said dismissively, tilting her head. “What’s a dragon against a Basilisk? You’re no  _ ordinary  _ girl of fourteen, are you? Your story’s legend,” she added, smiling, before frowning. “Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?” Ariadne winced. There it was.

“I-I-I I-I-I… I didn’t enter,” she spluttered.

“Oh, of course you didn’t,” Rita whispered sarcastically, winking. “Everyone loves a rebel, ‘Adne,” she added.

“I’m serious!” Ariadne exclaimed. “I didn’t enter! I don’t- I don’t want this! I-I I -I never wanted this! Someone else put me in, I don’t know who, and-aaa-and they’re trying to get me killed! I just… I just want…”  _ I just want to be Ariadne Granger again _ , she thought as she couldn’t help but let her face screw up, her words slurring in anxiety. She had to get out, she had to get out of the cupboard, away from Rita, away from the tiny enclosed space. Every bone in her body urged her to run, to flee and never come back. “I’m sorry,” she cried, pushing past Skeeter and nearly tripping on the stairs as she desperately pushed the door open and leant on a pillar in the trophy room, breathing heavily as her arms shook. Within, Ariadne could hear Skeeter tutting to herself and muttering. She couldn’t tell what was being said, but it didn’t sound nice from her tone.  _ Oh fuck _ , she thought, remembering what had happened the last time she’d run out on the reporter. This was not going to end well, she realized as reluctantly, she stepped back over to where the others were sitting, Cedric and Krum having sat down on the floor. That didn’t last, as Cedric stood up.

“You okay, Granger?” he asked, frowning as she dawdled with her hands together anxiously. Ariadne tilted her head, once again not knowing how to respond, before simply shrugging. “Hey, um, we were thinking, or, well, I was thinking, do you want to have lunch with us? Together?” Surprised, Ariadne frowned as Cedric turned to the others pointedly. “The whole point is international magical cooperation, right? We really should be friends.” Viktor raised his eyebrows, before tilting his head thoughtfully.

“High Master Karkaroff will hate it. I am in,” he said, grinning boyishly as Ariadne spluttered and ummed.

“Why would he hate it?” Cedric asked, a bemused look on his face. “What, does he think we should be at each others’ throats?” Krum laughed.

“He is a very competitive man,” Viktor replied, turning to Fleur. “Miss Delacour? What do you say?” Fleur frowned, giving them a strange look.

“Come on, Fleur!” Cedric called. “What’s the point in bringing us all together if we’re not even on speaking terms?” he asked, smiling.

“It is only sporting,” Viktor offered. Fleur raised an eyebrow briefly and grimaced.

“Fine,” Fleur said shortly, standing up. “Have it your way, Diggory. But don’t you all complain when Mister Crouch breaks it up.” It was with all three of her counterparts standing and pretty much surrounding her by that point, when Ariadne realized just how much shorter she was than them. Even Fleur was nearly a good half foot taller. Cedric snorted.

“I’m sure he won’t. Oh, Miss Skeeter, I hope you don’t mind if we pop out to lunch? We’ll be back,” Cedric said, turning to face Rita who’d finally vacated the cupboard. Krum left his staff leaning on Ariadne’s chair, as a show of good faith, while Ariadne veritably hid behind the tall boy.

“Oh that’s all right,” Rita said, smiling. “I’ll just… go over my questions,” she added sweetly, taking Fleur’s chair as the four stepped over to the staircase back to the Great Hall and shrewdly going over her notes. Cedric nodded and turned back, hopping up the stairs cheerfully.

“So what’s Beauxbatons like, Fleur?” Cedric asked eagerly. “I’ve only heard a little about it.”

“‘Tis a beautiful palace,” Fleur replied politely. “In the Pyrenees. It is much more pleasant than this castle.”

“Nich-nich-nich-nicho-nicho-nicho-Nicholas Flamel went there, didn’t he?” Ariadne stammered as she concentrated on the stairs. Fleur nodded.

“Indeed, he did. He funded some of its construction as well,” she replied. “There is a beautiful fountain in the park devoted to him and his wife Perenelle.”

“It sounds pleasant,” Viktor mused. “I must agree, on castles. Durmstrang is also one, smaller though. Larger grounds, but we do not get to enjoy them in the winter. In the summer, we fly for days and days!” he told them, smiling. “You would like it, Ariadne.” Ariadne nodded gently, and followed Cedric as he took a seat at one of the long tables, the Hall gently bustling with students and Professors. 

“Did you-did did-did you get into Quidditch because of it?” Ariadne asked curiously. Viktor frowned at her, almost amused.

“Oh no no, I was already playing when I started there. Not for Bulgaria of course, but I was learning!” Viktor laughed. “When did you start learning?” he asked, taking a drink as Ariadne accumulated food.

“Hmm? Oh, I started in my first week here,” she replied absently. Krum frowned.

“Did you not become Seeker for Gryffindor then?” Ariadne nodded. “You misunderstand me, when did you learn to  _ fly _ ?”

“The- the same day,” Ariadne replied, noticing his bewildered expression, and smiling awkwardly.

“You… you learned to fly and became Seeker on the same day?” Krum asked incredulously. Ariadne nodded. “Is this true?!” he asked Cedric, who laughed, choking on his drink.

“Yup. She’s pretty damn good too, I’ve only beaten her once and that time she fainted because of Dementors,” Cedric replied, making Ariadne blush. “I still think we should have had a rematch.”

“Incredible,” Viktor muttered. “You and I, we must play some time,” he marvelled, pointing to her with a stunned expression. “Perhaps Bulgaria versus Gryffindor, ha!”

“I dunno  _ where  _ I’d put my money,” Cedric snickered. “What about you, Fleur, what do you do in your spare time?”

“I write. Poetry,” Fleur replied. “It is in French, you could not read it,” she added, as Ariadne sensed an owl or two flit in from the rafters, and Hermes flap down in front of her.

“ _ Je connais le français _ . Is that your owl, Ariadne?” Cedric asked, as Fleur span to him, surprised. Ariadne nodded, taking the letter it had brought her, her mother’s handwriting in magical ink adorning its front.

“His name is Hermes,” Ariadne said quietly, as she set her mental eye to the letter as she unfolded it and Viktor asked Fleur about her poetry to short and secretive reply. “Thanks bub,” she muttered, scratching the owl’s head with her free hand.

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ First off, how are you doing? Handling things all right? Hermione says you girls had a productive Wednesday and have a proper study plan now, we’re glad to know you’re applying yourself. _
> 
> _ Second, thought we should let you know; Sirius says he’s going to do some digging for you using his old connections with the ‘Order of the Phoenix,’ Remus, and the books he has at his place. He says he’ll contact you as soon as he’s done with his findings. _
> 
> _ Stay safe, and on the task stay as safe as you can. We know you can do it, have faith in yourself. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad. _

“Bad news?” Cedric asked, looking to her carefully, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. Ariadne shook her head expressionlessly.

“My mum and dad,” she explained quietly, as Viktor and Fleur stopped talking. “They’re… worried,” she added, swallowing and grimacing as Cedric, ever so slightly but moving his head enough for her to notice, looked to the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons champions. He sighed.

“I don’t know about you two, but I’m going to help her,” he announced grimly.

“But-th-bt-th-butthe-but the-but-” Ariadne spluttered, as Cedric threw up his hands.

“Hang the rules,” Cedric said, cutting her off. “If the rules mattered, you wouldn’t be a champion. You say you didn’t put your name in, that’s good enough for me.” Viktor was nodding along, as Fleur frowned. “She’s fourteen. She didn’t sign up for this, and if it means breaking the rules to help her see it through then so be it. Way I see it, that’s our  _ duty  _ right now,” he told Fleur and Viktor.

“Agreed,” Viktor said, nodding emphatically.

“If I find anything out about the task, I’ll tell you, okay Ariadne?”

“Uh-uh-o-okay?” Ariadne spluttered, facing between them all and gaping in confusion as both of the boys faced her intensely. “I’ll-I’ll-I’ll-you too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cedric replied, shaking his head.

“So will I,” Viktor added. “Karkaroff will not like it, but you are not… an enemy.” Ariadne smiled gratefully, trying to make sure she ate. From down the way, Ginny waved at her, followed by Hermione who span to see. Ariadne waved back without turning. Cedric followed the wave, and beckoned her friends over, and Ariadne ummed and spluttered as Ginny, Ron and Hermione quickly carried their plates to where they were sitting.

“Hey-hey guys,” Ariadne said hesitantly as they sat down. Fleur frowned again, but this time only for a split second, more of confusion than indecision as she blinked. Of the group, the only ones for whom her weak purple cloud of magic did not gently observe were Hermione and Viktor, which Ariadne was briefly confused by. She’d sensed all but three of the players at the World Cup being affected, so if Viktor had been one of those not, one of the women must have been attracted to women.

“Hey Hermione. I don’t suppose you’re helping Ariadne out?” Cedric asked purposefully as Hermione took a seat beside Ariadne.

“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Hermione replied. “How’d the interview go?” she asked. Ariadne simply grimaced, raising her eyebrows darkly. “Oh.”

“Want any help? I’ll have to be preparing anyway, practicing things, might as well,” he asked pleasantly, smiling. Hermione looked quickly to Ron, a concerned look on her face.

“Um… we’ll let you know? If we need anything, we’ll ask,” Hermione replied, having gone a little tense - Ariadne presumed it was because of their effective use of Ron as a practice dummy due to his lycanthropic resistance, they couldn’t let slip why to Cedric.

“Me too,” Viktor added, raising his hand as Hermione ran her right hand quickly and repetitively over her left knuckle. “Sporting spirit, yes?” Hermione nodded. “Oh. Who would this be…  _ your  _ sister?” he asked, looking to Ginny and pointing at her and Ron’s hair as Ginny realized who was sitting there and her eyes went wide.

“Oh, yeah,” Ron replied. “Ginny.” Krum extended his arm.

“Ginny Weasley? It is a pleasure to meet a friend of Ariadne,” he said gently, as Ginny took his hand woodenly. “Are you helping her as well?”

“Yeah,” Ginny replied. “Not as much though,” she added, holding up her right arm and the purple-glowing bracelet. Krum frowned as Cedric drew back a little.

“What is..?”

“Oh. Suppresses my magic,” Ginny replied, shrugging. “You know how Ariadne killed a Basilisk?” she asked, clearly noticing Krum’s frown go from confusion to horror, and he nodded. “The thing that was controlling… it… did some… things… to me. Need it,” she told him slowly, her magic spasming slightly under the purple film that surrounded it. Ginny shrugged. Even Fleur had stopped eating, and was frowning concernedly at the girl.

“That’s… extreme,” Cedric murmured, frowning. “How do you-”

“Oh no, I can still cast spells, it’s just hard,” Ginny clarified, realizing she hadn’t pointed that out. Cedric relaxed, although only partially.

“Good god. You’ve been entered into the Tournament against your will and had to kill a Basilisk, you’ve got your magic suppressed and you’ve both been petrified before. You lot have seen some stuff,” Cedric marvelled, pointing to each of them in turn. “Honestly, I dunno if I’m more qualified to help than they are!” Ginny snorted, doubling forward slightly as she spluttered on a glass of juice. And that wasn’t even everything.

“We should return to Miss Skeeter,” Fleur said, finishing up her lunch and standing, clearly with something on her mind. “Might as well get it done so we can all get back to our preparations, hmm?” she added, striding off back to the trophy room door.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Cedric said quietly to Ariadne as they finished up. “Maxime must be telling her to stay on edge, she didn’t seem to like you much.”

“Do you want to get some shield charm practice in after?” Hermione asked, taking Ariadne’s shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

“Nah, I uh, I think… I think I’ll relax. Long day,” Ariadne replied ruefully. “Play-play-play-play… play some-play some…” Giving up on speaking, Ariadne simply gestured strumming on a guitar. Hermione nodded, letting her go as Cedric started off toward the door.

“I’ll get my drums out!” Ginny said excitedly, and Ron grimaced at her. “Bad time?”

“Starting to be, Tuesday after,” Ron replied, cracking his neck. “It’s fine for now, just… keep it down please?” She nodded.

“Okay. We’ve got a free period tomorrow, shall I book the room?” Ariadne took a moment, before nodding. “Okay. I’ll just go speak to Professor McGonagall, and then we’ll meet you back here, okay?” Again, Ariadne nodded, and followed the boys back toward the trophy room, her thoughts thankfully dwelling not on the Tournament, but instead what songs she would play.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being who she is very much changes how people interact with her - canon!Harry is much less visibly panicked than Ariadne, we only really see him scared scared in his conversation with Sirius, he comes off more angry than anything else. Here, she is pretty much having a panic attack constantly, and while she doesn’t mean to, she is playing into the ‘scared little girl’ role. Makes them much more willing to help her.


	121. Strategies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid makes clever use of Ron’s second full moon at Hogwarts, as the 28th of October comes around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that what me writing Ariadne this way says about me is that I’m somewhat agoraphobic lmao. Had an appointment with my doctor about it in the middle of writing this chapter.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” Ariadne yelled, the bolt of vibrating blue light shafting straight through Ron as the boy leapt over a table and promptly crashed to the ground with a loud groan as Ariadne ducked back down, keeping a mental eye out on either side of her.

“Ugh-woah!” Ron exclaimed groggily, sitting up slowly as the jinx hampered his limbs. “Oh, you got me good,” he groaned. “Nice job,” he croaked, holding an arm to his head as he sat up, blinking wearily. Grimacing, Ariadne began to stand up from behind the tipped-over desk she was crouching behind.

“ _Flipendo_!” Ginny cried, thrusting her wand at Ariadne from the other side of the room, the weak bolt of red light brushing by Ariadne’s hair as she threw herself back from it. She knew the jinx wasn’t strong enough to throw her, not from Ginny, but the object of the lesson was to not get hit in the first place. Fumbling a little as Hermione chucked a hex her way that dashed on the table, Ariadne held up her wand.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Ariadne muttered, calling a ceasefire using their usual ‘white flag.’ Hermione relaxed and put her wand away as Ariadne stood up and hurriedly made her way over to Ron, who was groaning on the floor. “Ron, you’re _really_ not up to this right now. Stand down,” she told him, helping him up. It was the afternoon on Thursday, October 28th, a month out from the first task, and the first day of Ron’s second full moon at Hogwarts. It had been just over a month since Cedric and Viktor had promised to assist, and assist they had - both Cedric and Viktor had given them spells to work on, as well as tips on other matters such as survival skills. Just in case they had to go ‘camping,’ Viktor had said.

Rita’s article had been… less than pleasant. No more was she praising the Girl Who Lived’s resilience and skill, once more she was just a nervous wreck, desperate for attention - that the tournament was just her latest publicity stunt after the wizarding world had hurriedly moved on from her defence of Remus. She didn’t _really_ care about what she said about her, the fickle flights of journalistic fancy would flow as they would, but she _did_ care about what she’d said about Viktor, who’d been really rather angry about it. Upon discovering he was asexual, Rita had been even more cruel to him than she had Ariadne, describing him as a dullard whose only redeeming quality was his physique, ‘ _if only he weren’t so disappointingly celibate_.’ The others hadn’t fared much better, and even Fleur had enthusiastically agreed never to speak to Skeeter again.

Fleur was starting to warm to her, if only a little, as the Champions took some of their meals together. She was at least not quite so standoffish, and had on occasion offered shallow and snappy - but well-intentioned - help, mostly regarding her public image. Ariadne remembered the time Fleur had ordered her to stop slouching so much with mirth, as Ron stood, hunched over as Hermione brought him the cane he’d been given by Madam Pomfrey. They were still thinking of a way to explain it to everyone else, so Hermione and Ariadne had been surreptitiously using magic to help him up in the corridors. He hadn’t even attended his classes that day, and Ariadne had recorded them for him using the small enchanted MP3 player she’d bought him over the holidays.

“I’m fine,” Ron replied hoarsely, before grunting and clutching his back. “Oh all right.”

“Why did you even say you were good for this week? You’re in no state for this,” Hermione chided him as Ron grimaced.

“‘Cos if she can get me _now_ , she’s good,” Ron mumbled as Ariadne brushed a finger along her gently clicking watch.

“Well, I’m putting a stop to it. Besides, we might as well go down to Hagrid’s, and you need to take your potion,” Ariadne told him, tapping the watch pointedly as it was showing it was getting late in the afternoon. Ron nodded, and crouched over to retrieve the vial from his backpack, his hair flopping back as he drank it.

“Bleh. Let’s go,” he said, letting Ariadne pull him up again and leaning on his cane as Hermione beckoned Ginny to help her get the desks back in order where they’d been stacked. After some levitations, the four began making their way down to Hagrid’s hut. Light rain pattered down on their heads and left strange shadow patterns upon the walls and path as Ariadne’s glasses pulsed the grounds into view and the spiralling spindles of Ron’s lycanthropy calcified and greyed thanks to the Wolfsbane potion. Hagrid had invited the four of them for dinner that evening, since he needed to supervise Red anyway - not only did Ron appreciate it, but it also gave him an alibi as to why he was leaving the castle.

“I’ve never been in Hagrid’s house,” Ginny mused as Hermione stepped up to the door and knocked, her mittened hands bonking softly against the wood. Immediately, Fang started barking from within before the door creaked open and the smiling form of Hagrid met them, an apron over his garb and oven mitts on his massive hands.

“There you are!” Hagrid called gladly, stepping aside. “Come in, come in! Made yer some casserole, just simmering now.” Ron sighed gladly, taking a deep breath of the aroma as he stepped up and leaned on the walls and chairs before sitting down closest to the fire, his bag by his feet. “How ya doin’, Hermione?” he asked, closing the door behind Ariadne as Ginny marvelled at the space of the large living room, at the many trinkets and odds and ends that hung in the rafters.

“Busy,” Hermione replied awkwardly. She was the only one there who didn’t take Care of Magical Creatures with him. “We’ve been practicing with Ariadne.”

“Good on yer,” Hagrid said, beaming at her. “Where _did_ I put those bowls,” he murmured as a groggy Ron reached down to pat Fang, who seemed to like him well. “Sorry about the mess, should’a cleaned up more. Aha!” Hagrid told them, before procuring five rather large bowls from a cupboard as well as a cavernous-looking ladle and taking them over to the pot which sat over the crackling fire. “All right, there ya go Ron,” he said, depositing quite a full-looking - from what became void decorated with seemingly floating chunks in it to Ariadne - bowl in front of the boy. “Oh, spoons!” There was a clatter as Hagrid hurriedly set a bunch of mismatching spoons down on the table, one of which Ron took hungrily. Ariadne gratefully burned her tongue on the hot casserole before resolving to give it a few minutes to cool down while Hagrid put a kettle on.

“Thanks Hagrid!” Ron said, putting down his spoon after also taking a mouthful. “That’s hot!”

“Aye, don’t burn yourself,” Hagrid replied as he sat down in his leather seat. “Thought it’d be a bit easier on you.” Ron nodded, as Ariadne frowned. “Oh, he had a little bit of trouble with a lot of solid food last month, gave Red an upset stomach, but the lad needs to eat so…”

“How’d last month go?” Ginny asked Ron. “You never said much.” Ron shrugged.

“Y’know. Ran about a bit. Not much to say really,” Ron replied. “I’m making this sound _boring_ ,” he mused to himself with a grimace as he scratched a nail along another on the same hand and cracked his knuckle.

“Isn’t it best to get used to it though?” Hermione asked. “If it’s going to be happening every month for the rest of your life?”

“S’pose,” Ron mumbled, blowing on his casserole. “Should probably eat this quick, sun’s going down,” he mumbled through a mouthful. Hermione hurriedly checked out the window before following suit, blowing on her own casserole. They’d had Hagrid’s cooking before, so at least the food was familiar to her else she’d have problems. “Heh. It’s a dog’s life,” Ron joked, smiling as Hermione spluttered on it.

“How long have you been sitting on that one?” Ginny asked, chuckling. Ron shrugged.

“He makes a good dog, you know,” Hagrid told them, as Ron made a face of bemusement at him. “Ye do! Weren’t so big, you’d think Red was just a friend o’ Fang’s! Blend right in with a wolfpack, he would,” the man explained. “Y’know, Fang’s a terrible tracker, I could do with some help finding some things tomorrow night if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Why not tonight?” Ron asked, the floating chunks of his casserole ever lower in his bowl as he scoffed it. “You don’t mean a _hunt_ do you?” he added in a worried tone, suddenly frowning. That was something Ron had been quite specific about, Red did _not_ hunt.

“Oh, no, not a hunt. Just looking for some of the Nifflers, they got under the wall, devious buggers,” Hagrid clarified. “And I got something _else_ to show Red tonight,” he added, winking. If Ron had had Red’s ears yet, Ariadne swore they would have perked up in curiosity as he turned to Hagrid with a twitch to his head.

“Sounds good. Eurgh, should get going. I um…” Ron replied, pointing to his evidently not empty bowl, his jaw tense.

“Oh, you can finish it on the way,” Hagrid said as Ron hesitantly got up and unzipped his bag and pulled out a bundled fuzzy dressing gown, at which Ginny started cackling.

“Didn’t that used to be Mum’s?” she laughed, pointing. Ron scowled at her.

“So? Point is, it doesn’t matter if it gets all dirty,” Ron protested. “You try turning into a wolf without making a mess,” he added, before shrugging and pulling a tattered - even to Ariadne - curtain before himself to get changed behind.

“What… what’s it like?” Ariadne mumbled, frowning as she glumly stopped eating. Ginny leant forward, as if she hadn’t heard, but Ron had, even behind the curtain.

“It’s…” Ron sighed reluctantly. “Imagine the worst pain you’ve ever felt.”

“Yeah?” Ariadne replied, remembering the day she’d knelt before Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets, Basilisk venom coursing through her veins. She didn’t like where this was going, and she had actually meant to be asking what it was like to be a wolf, not the change itself.

“Now forget it,” Ron said dryly, as Ariadne’s blood turned to ice. “It doesn’t hurt at first. You just can’t move. And then _everything_ hurts. An’ there’s this moment, this moment when you know you’re about to die. You.. You’re dead, or you want to be, and then… it stops. And you’re something else.” Ron pulled the curtain back, his expression forlorn and dark despite the fluffy gown as Ariadne shuddered to imagine it. “Some thing to get used to,” he huffed, putting the bundle that was his clothes onto his chair and picking his casserole up. “At least all this goes away, it only starts up again at about three in the morning,” he added, as if it were a bonus. “After that I kinda fall asleep and wake up when I’m nearly me again,” he said, as Hagrid got up, nodding.

“It ain’t pretty,” the huge man told them solemnly. “But it’s not so bad after, eh?”

“It’s all right,” Ron shrugged. “All right, see you guys, g’night,” he said. Ariadne stood, and hesitantly held out her arms, enveloping him in a gentle hug. Ron was _very_ warm, and Ariadne idly realized he was probably a good hugger as a result, even as she struggled not to imagine him going through what he was about to as she sniffed. “Hey, it’s okay. I just gotta get used to it. I mean, I’ve done it twenty times already.”

“Yeah,” Ariadne murmured. “Have a good time, I guess,” she added, patting his back. He nodded gently as they separated and Hermione took Ariadne’s place, followed by Ginny.

“Hmph, I’ll try. All right, let’s go. Sleep well girls,” Ron told them as he and Hagrid led the way out of the door, back into the chilly, damp autumn evening. “Eurgh, I’m gonna smell of wet dog all week. Remind me to take a shower before breakfast.”

\--

“What shall we work on this afternoon?” Hermione asked a yawning Ariadne as they waited for Ron and Ginny in the Common Room the next morning.

“Ron wanted to teach me a few of the medical spells Remus taught him, I think he said _Episkey_ was a good one? Maybe we can do that, let him have a bit of a break,” Ariadne replied, straightening a bit as she sensed his magical core flit out of the boys’ dorm stairs noisily behind her. “Speak of the devil. Hey Ron!” she called gently as he made a beeline for them. He was still in his pajamas, probably having gotten what little sleep he could after getting back.

“Ugh…” he groaned, crashing down onto the sofa and wincing. “You are not going to _believe_ what I saw last night,” he hissed, looking about nervously.

“Why, what was it?” Ariadne whispered. Ron leaned forward, clearly uncomfortable but yet also purposeful.

“ _Dragons_ ,” he whispered as Hermione leaned in to hear. Ariadne’s mouth fell open as her eyelid twitched. _What?!_ exploded through her mind. “They’ve got four of them held in the Forest, one for each of you.”

“Is she supposed to _kill a dragon_?!” Hermione exclaimed quietly as Ginny shuffled down the stairs adjusting her tie. Ron shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Charlie said it was going to be hard to get them back to the sanctuary, especially having to get papers for a fourth on such short notice, so…”

“Charlie?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Your brother?”

“Yeah…” Ron replied, smiling wistfully. _Pack instinct going strong_ , Ariadne thought, allowing herself moment of slight happiness within the horror that was the revelation she would be facing a _dragon_ in a month. “He didn’t know it was me though, doesn’t know, he was just talking to Hagrid. He gives good pats,” Ron snorted quickly as Ariadne could not help but be distracted by that and smile widely at him. _Adorable_. “But yeah, um, there was a Hungarian Horntail… a Swedish Short Snout, a Welsh Green and a… what was the other one… a Chinese Fireball,” he listed, screwing up his eyebrows as he concentrated.

“A _Horntail_ ?!” Ariadne hissed, horrified. She’d read and been read _plenty_ about dragons, it was one of the first things Hermione had hyperfixated on and gotten books out about before they’d even come to Hogwarts. “Those are… those are vicious!” Ron nodded darkly.

“What’s this about dragons?” Ginny asked, before sudden comprehension filled her face. “Oh no…”

“That’s what he showed me,” Ron told her quietly. “One for each of them. I think she’ll just have to get _past_ one though, Charlie said they’d be going back, so yeah.”

“ _Just_ have to get past a dragon,” Ariadne mumbled sarcastically, her fingers going a little numb. She almost suspected Ron was playing up the lighter sides of his condition to cheer her up, dragons were some of the most dangerous creatures in the world, and she knew far more than she wanted to in the moment.

“Okay, new plan for this afternoon. Library and strategizing,” Hermione announced, albeit quietly. “Now that we know what you’re dealing with, we can be a bit more specific. We’ll need to read up on all four of them, since we don’t know which one you’ll end up facing.”

“I’ll check the library while you guys are in class,” Ron mumbled, grumbling as he repositioned himself on the sofa. “Might as well, I had some other stuff to check anyway,” he added quickly as he was given bewildered looks. Ron, researching, and _offering_ to? Ariadne never thought she’d sense the day.

\--

> _Ariadne_
> 
> _I’ve got as much as I can. We need to talk, face-to-face. Meet me in the Gryffindor Common Room, at one o’clock this Saturday night. Preferably alone._
> 
> _-Sirius_

The small note had come on the wing of Hermes on Friday morning, after they’d spent all of Thursday afternoon before sending Ron off to Hagrid researching all they could about the four species of dragons, and then coming up with different strategies to get past them depending on scenarios. Her study list had somehow only gotten larger, now including summoning spells, a list of advanced curses tailored to the fire-breathing beasts Hagrid had revealed to Ron, as well as the useful spells Remus had taught him. How she was going to fit it _all_ in on top of her classes, Ariadne didn’t know, to the point she wondered if it would be permissible for her to ask Professor McGonagall for her Time Turner again. Despite knowing she did not have to attend the end-of-year exams, she still wanted to if she could. Regardless, she had impatiently sat up in bed for much of the night, checking her watch sporadically as she read through one of the many spellbooks they’d gotten out. Eventually, she brushed her finger along the watch to find 12:53, and quietly made her way down to the Common Room.

Nobody was down there, as she’d expected as she cast her magic sense about the room. There were a few books that had been left about, as well as what looked like a copy of a newspaper. Knowing how poor the coverage of the Tournament was, Ariadne pushed her curiosity back down to her stomach and sat down on a sofa closest to the fire, where it was warmest. The fire wasn’t exactly roaring, but she could hear a gentle crackling so it wasn’t gone either.

She frowned. How was Sirius even getting there? Apparation into the castle was impossible, and the Floos were locked without a teacher’s permission. Was he breaking in again? That idea didn’t appeal to her, she didn’t want him to get another six months in a prison, possibly more, for a repeat offense.

Her confused contemplations were broken by a sudden orange light in front of her. Floo Network magic, she realized as she frowned at the now popping and hissing fire. She had her hand halfway to her wand when it spoke.

“Ariadne?” Sirius’ voice called out quietly. “Ah, there you are. Can’t see this, can you?” he asked gently as Ariadne jumped and scrambled to kneel by the fireplace, shaking her head. “Oh well, at least we can see you.”

“We?” Ariadne asked.

“We’re here too!” Valerie’s voice rang out of the Floo, before what was unmistakably Dennis shushed her. “Oh, right, quiet.”

“Mum?!” Ariadne gasped, leaning over and feeling the heat of the fireplace on her face. “Dad?” She hadn’t expected to hear her parents’ voices again until June, so this was a welcome surprise.

“We’re here, sweetie,” Dennis said quietly. “I dunno how this works, but who cares?”

“Little trick I picked up back in the war,” Sirius explained. “Let me get straight to it. First, you didn’t put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“No!” Ariadne assured him, a little louder than she’d meant to.

“Shh! Now, I don’t know who did, but… the Death Eaters at the World Cup and your name rising from that goblet? These are not just coincidences, Hogwarts isn’t safe anymore.” Ariadne heard her parents gasp from through the fire.

“What-whatdoyou-what-do-what do you mean?” Ariadne spluttered, her jaw slack.

“I’m saying the devils are inside the walls. Igor Karkaroff? He was a Death Eater, and no-one, _no-one_ , stops being a Death Eater. Then there’s Barty Crouch, heart of stone, sent his own _son_ to Azkaban because he was a Death Eater too!” Sirius exclaimed.

“You think one of _them_ put my name in?” Ariadne asked, frowning.

“I haven’t a clue who put your name in that goblet, ‘Adne, but whoever did is no friend to you, people _die_ in this Tournament.”

“I know, I’ve read about it,” Ariadne hissed.

“How are you getting ready?” Dennis asked quietly. “Hermione’s sent a little but she says there’s too much to write in a letter.” Ariadne nodded, crossing her legs as she knelt before the fire.

“We’ve been practicing a lot of spells. I’ve been working on _Diminuendo, Impedimenta, Reducto_ and _Relashio_ , among others. Ron’s a good practice dummy, werewolf resistance,” she recited. 

“Where are they?” Valerie asked.

"Oh, Hermione and Ginny are asleep, and Ron, well, Red by now, is _out_. Speaking of Red, we worked out the first task! Dragons,” she added, a tinge of smugness to her shaky fearfulness as Sirius hummed knowingly about Ron’s activities.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to know what the first task was?” Valerie asked. “How’d you find out?”

“They’re keeping them in the Forbidden Forest. Professor Hagrid took Red for a walk,” Ariadne told them, smiling pointedly. Sirius downright chuckled for a moment as Dennis aahed in understanding.

“Shenanigans aside, dragons? What’ve you got?” Sirius asked seriously. Ariadne nodded, thinking back. She really should have brought her notes, she realized.

“We’re coming up with some strategies depending on what we have to do. We’ve ruled out killing them, Ron’s brother implied they’ll be leaving again, but we’ve got a flying strategy if it’s to get away from them - summo-summon-fmf-summoning my Firebolt, thank you Sirius - as well as ideas on getting past it based on how I killed the Basilisk. My main problem is going to be the fire, I can’t sense it.”

“Oh, good, good, good, sounds like you’re onto that. Fire, fire… I suggest _Calortamio_ , the flame-freezing spell.” Ariadne nodded.

“Been looking into it,” Ariadne replied.

“Good, good. Dragons are just as resistant as the Basilisk was, if not more, but their eyes and mouth to a lesser degree are their weaknesses, just like it,” Sirius told her, as she nodded along.

“Plan is to blind it and distract it with noises away from me,” Ariadne told him. “If I have to, I’ll try kill it with a _bombarda_ to the throat, like in the Chamber.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth, I was going to say the _Conjunctivitis_ jinx but I’m guessing you’ve got that on the list already?” Ariadne nodded again. “Good girl. _Bombarda_ might just do that, but make sure you’ve got a plan B, some dragons have magic fire and are internally resistant, others aren’t. Oh, and find some way of camouflaging your scent, some dragons have good noses. Ron can help you there.” Sirius sniffed amusedly. “His nose is actually better than any dragon’s, so if you can lose _him_ then you’re all set. Maybe try blinding him to practice.”

“I’ll um, I’ll put it on the list,” Ariadne muttered. Sirius sighed.

“With all that, I don’t think there’s much more I can tell you that you wouldn’t already know. Keep working, at the rate you’re going you might just _win_ this Tournament.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord, this one’s closer to 4000 words than 3000. Ran a bit long!


	122. Cygnet Committee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a revelation during training, Hermione starts up a project of her own with help from the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40,000 hits?! How??? Jeez, thanks folks!  
> I meanwhile have been having immense fun with planning my version of the epilogue, which will be Very Different™, but I am a little distracted by it, hence this taking a hot sec too. The planning document’s gonna be gigantic by the end of this, it’s getting close to 40,000 words.

“ _ Hit me _ , Ariadne,” Ron veritably snarled as Ariadne quavered on the other end of the room.

“No! I- you’re-” Ariadne spluttered, as Ron shook his head.

“I don’t care. Right now, I’m the closest thing you’ve got to a dragon to practice on.  _ Hit me _ ,” he growled. It was Sunday, and the four had been working on the advanced  _ Conjunctivitis  _ curse all day after Sirius’ recommendation, making sure she could actually say the incantation without stammering too much, practicing the wand movement, and then practicing aiming on a statue in the corner. Now, however, Ron had decided it would be best for her to practice the actual power behind it, and had stood from his seat and practically ordered Ariadne to cast it on him. It was the second to last day of the full moon, and while Ron had been almost imperceptibly improving, she had no idea how he was even on his feet let alone how he’d handle the curse. “Just because I feel like crap doesn’t mean I couldn’t throw you across the room right now if I had to,” the boy added pointedly.

“Just do it, ‘Adne,” Ginny called. “He’s not gonna sit down until you do.” Ariadne slumped slightly, sighing.

“Ugh, fine,” Ariadne said, reluctantly raising her wand and shaking her head as Ron straightened. “Ready?” The boy nodded aggressively. “Okay.  _ Conjunctivitis! _ ” she exclaimed, spinning her wand with a flick down at his eyes as a twirling bolt of brilliant blue energy shot out at him, piercing at his face as he flinched. Ron stumbled backward a few steps, squinting as he blinked blearily.

“Almost!” Ron cried victoriously, pointing to her. “Try again, come on!” Ariadne grumbled, grimacing as she raised her golden-shimmering wand again.

“Ugh. Con-con-conjun-conjun…  _ Conjunctivitis! _ ” she spluttered, wincing as she shot another blast of magic at him with a flourish of her wand. As it slammed into his face, pinpricks of blue light stabbed at his eyes as he cried out, stumbling back again as he waved his head and clutched at his eyes before the stabbing flecks of magic faded and he slowly opened his eyes again.

“Yeah!” Ron bellowed excitedly. “You did it!” he cried, throwing his arm into the air as Ginny and Hermione cheered from the sidelines. Ariadne quickly jogged over as Ron grunted, holding a hand to his waist and screwing his eyes up as he traced the ever so slightly raised scar that ran down from the top of his nose down to his left cheek with his other hand. It was almost completely unnoticeable to Ariadne most of the time, but she did occasionally note the slight bump.

“You okay?” Ariadne asked hurriedly, coming to a stop right in front of him as he winced and straightened back up again.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Ron replied, before being betrayed by a loud gurgle from his stomach. Hermione groaned, slumping before wringing her hands at him.

“Did you even have lunch?!” Hermione exclaimed. “Ron, you have to take better care of yourself, you know how much it takes out of you!” she told him, as if chiding a small child. Ron behaved accordingly, exaggerating the head movement Ariadne knew was associated with rolling his eyes, grumbling.

This was not what drew Ariadne’s attention.

Ariadne jumped, her shoulders going cold all of a sudden as behind her, a snapping noise was accompanied by the appearance of a familiar, refined, silvery magical core, standing no higher than three feet tall, belonging to a bat-eared, bulging-eyed elf.

“ _ Dobby?! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed, spinning to face him. The elf was significantly tidier than she’d last sensed him, freshly freed from servitude to Lucius Malfoy in the corridor outside Dumbledore’s office - instead of a makeshift pillowcase garment, he wore what was almost a waistcoat, and what looked to be a pair of children’s swimming trunks that were significantly too large for him, tied as tight as they’d go at the front. He was, however, definitely still wearing the pair of socks she’d given him.

“Ariadne Granger, ma’am!” Dobby cried, beaming as the Blindsight charm glasses bathed him in blue light and Ariadne gaped at him. Ron frowned, as Hermione and Ginny looked confused.

“What are you doing here?” Ariadne asked, kneeling before him as he ran forward. “It’s good to sense you!

“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, miss! Dobby heard Mister Wheezy was hungry,” Dobby exclaimed, hugging her tightly. “Professor Dumbledore pays Dobby! One galleon a week!” he added joyfully. Ariadne beamed at him - an elf with a salary was incredible, even if it did only really amount to five pounds a week.

“You know him?” Ginny asked quizzically, giving the elf an odd look as she stepped over. Ariadne nodded.

“He’s the one who tried to warn me about what was happening in second year,” Ariadne replied, as Dobby nodded excitedly.

“Ariadne Granger freed Dobby from Lucius Malfoy, Ginny Wheezy ma’am,” Dobby told her gladly, before snapping his fingers and bringing about a plate of sausages, mashed potato and gravy for an incredibly grateful Ron. “For you, Mister Wheezy!”

“Thanks, Dobby?” Ron replied, taking it to a nod from the elf. “It’s nice to meet you,” he added, through a mouthful of mashed potato.

“It is most agreeable, Ronald Wheezy!” Dobby agreed. “And Hermione Granger, it is an honour!”

“Good afternoon, Dobby. I’m glad they pay you, I was worried when I read that Hogwarts had elves,” Hermione replied, smiling widely and offering her hand. Dobby, however, went quiet and didn’t take it. “What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing her knuckles anxiously. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“No Miss, no!” Dobby protested. “Dobby is the only one, ma’am. The others are not paid,” he mumbled, twisting his head about and looking away - his eyes and retinas were so large Ariadne could tell where he was looking by the shapes alone. Hermione went from anxious to horrified, as she and Ariadne drew back, the latter tensing to grab him in case he tried to punish himself for saying what he had - to her relief, he only balled up his long-fingered hands and jumped about irritably on the spot. Still recovering, it seemed, but getting there.

“You mean… the others are still under the Elfbind?!” Hermione frowned, gaping slightly at the elf. “But if he’s paying  _ you _ , why isn’t he paying them?”

“Wha’s the Elfbind?” Ron asked, still eating but having slowed down, his brow furrowed as he followed along.

“It’s wh-it’s wha-it’s what keeps elves from leaving their masters unless given clothes,” Ariadne replied, frowning just as much. The elf was shaking his head. “It’s been around for centuries.”

“He cannot, Hermione Granger,” Dobby lamented. “Dobby has no master, but the others are bound to the Governors, not to Professor Dumbledore, ma’am,” he told them. 

“Malfoy,” Ron muttered darkly.

“Yes sir, among others, sir,” Dobby said. “They tried, Hermione Granger, Miss. They pleaded for it, for clothes and pay, for the same arrangement as Dobby, Miss, but they were laughed at, Miss. They have lost hope,” he wailed, spinning on the spot anxiously.

“Is… is there anything we can do?” Ariadne asked quietly. Dobby only shrugged, a forlorn look on his face. “Maybe we can get the Governors to release them?”

“How d’we do that?” Ron asked skeptically. “ _ Hi Lucius Malfoy, who hates me for being a werewolf and who beats up the elves, mind releasing them for us? _ Oh crap...” he jumped, realizing what he’d just said and staring at Dobby. “Forget that,” he mumbled.

“That Mister Wheezy is a werewolf? Dobby already knew, Mister Wheezy,” Dobby replied, prompting Ron to draw back a little in surprise. “Dobby is bringing him his potions every month.”

“Oh,” Ron spluttered, in a surprised tone. “Oh, thank you for that.” Dobby’s ears flopped up as he smiled at the praise.

“We raise awareness,” Hermione said. “Think about it! The Governors can laugh them off because there aren’t any repercussions! Imagine if they were under pressure! Angry parents, angry students, Professors?”

“If they had supporters, they could…” Ariadne mumbled, as Dobby’s ears only went higher as he gaped at them.

“Ariadne Granger would help us?!” Dobby exclaimed, looking between them, amazed.

“Of course!” Ariadne replied. “Would that help, should we do that?” she asked him. Dobby spluttered joyfully, before finally pulling himself together enough to speak.

“Yes, Miss, of course, Miss! Oh, thank you Ariadne Granger!” he squealed, leaping into another tight hug and winding Ariadne. “It would be an honour!”

\--

“What’re you writing in there?” Ron asked as they walked, leaning on his cane as Hermione scribbled away in her notebook and trailed behind a bit. They’d decided to go for a walk by the lake, to give Ron a rest and some fresh air, since it seemed a nice enough day. Ginny had been a bit confused, but she’d come around to it after it had been explained. It seemed most witches and wizards simply saw elven slavery as ‘how things were.’ She wasn’t saying much though - she was being more introspective, thinking about things, she said. Ron, meanwhile had been far more eager than Ariadne had expected - apparently, after the research he’d done that week, he’d found out he wasn’t even legally considered human, and had fewer rights than they did.  _ Be a bit crap of me not to if I’m nonhuman myself, wouldn’t it? _ he’d said.

“Name ideas,” Hermione replied flatly. “If we’re making a group to help the elves, then it should have a name. Name idea, anyway, singular, I’m not good at it,” she explained, as they stepped through the fallen leaves and twigs at the bank, Neville’s core standing in the void-like water as he was surrounded by numerous multicoloured objects sticking out of it, his trousers rolled up.

“Hey Neville!” Ariadne called as they approached. Neville startled and dropped something with a splash, cursing as he bent down to retrieve it as his arms vanished into the darkness of the lake.

“Hey guys!” Neville replied. “You okay, Ron?” he asked, pointing to the cane as he stood back up with a vial. “Ugh, I’ll never figure out the pH now,” he muttered.

“What was that thing called, Hermione?” Ron whispered.

“Scoliosis,” she whispered back.

“Scoliosis!” Ron called. “Spine’s got a twist in it, gets painful sometimes.” Neville nodded understandingly. Ironically, it wasn’t entirely a lie either - both Ron and Percy did in fact have very minor scoliosis, they’d inherited it from their mother, although Percy’s was a little worse than Ron’s.

“Hey, um, would you guys mind keeping an eye on this?” Neville asked, trudging out of the water. “I’ve got to go get some more pH indicator from Professor Sprout, I just lost it all.”

“Growing some of the water plants?” Ariadne asked, smiling. Neville nodded. “We’ll keep an eye,” she assured him as he let his trousers roll back down to his ankles.

“The surface feeders got beached in all the rain this week, I’m gonna have to start over with them,” Neville told her, as he stepped away. “Back in a bit!” he called as Ariadne sat down on the raised edge of a tree and he started jogging off back toward the castle.

“What’ve you got, Hermione?” Ariadne asked as Ginny sat down, examining some of the pots Neville had left, while Ron groaned and crashed down onto the leaves beside Ariadne. Hermione, still standing, cleared her throat.

“Stop the Outrageous Abuse of our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in their Legal Status,” Hermione recited. “It’s a bit long, I know,” she added, grimacing.

“Yeah, that won’t fit on a badge!” Ron replied, chuckling.

“Could keep it as a mission statement though?” Ariadne suggested. Hermione beamed at her, writing it down and hopping up and down excitedly. “I-I I-I-I-I I could do public relations!” she added. “I mean, I have a platform already.” Ron grimaced.

“Yeah, but the press don’t really like you right now, do they?” he asked, as Hermione paced on the spot, twiddling the ballpoint pen between her pinky finger and thumb, probably resisting the urge to disassemble it. She’d gone through a lot of pens. Ariadne nodded reluctantly.

“What about this?” Hermione asked, turning back to them. “The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare?” she asked, straightening a little and tapping the pen on the page. Ariadne thought about it, frowning, but Ron had beaten her to the problem.

“Spew?” Ron asked. “You want to call it  _ SPEW _ ?” Ariadne sniffed as Ron cackled and Hermione screwed up her face at him.

“He  _ is  _ right, that would get mocked,” Ariadne told her. Hermione slumped. “It’s a good name on its own, but people would make a joke out of it.” Ariadne thought for a bit longer, trying to find a similar alternative. Preferably also a word, one that would be easily recognizable, she thought.

“There’s got to be something we can call it,” Hermione mumbled.

“SPEER,” Ariadne announced. Hermione frowned at her. 

“Whaddaya mean, Spear?” Ron asked.

“Society for the Promo-fth-for-forth-for the Promotion of Elven Employment Rights,” Ariadne replied. “S-P-E-E-R.”

“I love it!” Hermione exclaimed, writing it down and, from her hand motions, aggressively underlining it. “I vote for SPEER.”

“Sounds good,” Ginny said, smiling at Ariadne. “Could put a spear in the logo too. I can sketch one, if you like, to put on the badges?” she added, burrowing through her bag and pulling out her sketchbook.

“Oo, yes please!” Hermione replied. “I’ll go get some blank badges from Hogsmeade in a bit, shall I?” she added, to immediate nodding and an approving point from Ron as Ginny rifled through her bag for a pencil. “So you want to do PR, Ariadne?”

“Hmm. I’d have to be careful, but I’m not-I’m not-I’m not exactly known as a conse-conser-conser-conservative,” Ariadne chuckled. “Might as well add elves to the marginalized groups everyone knows I support.” Hermione smiled, and wrote it down. 

As Neville eventually returned - and expressed minor curiosity, although he was preoccupied with the survival of his juvenile Gillyweed, which had apparently suffered similarly to his Assynt Carnivorous Surface Feeders due to the rain of the past week, but was salvageable - Hermione and Ariadne had outlined a basic structure for the group - wherein Ariadne was labelled its secretary as well as public relations officer, and Ron was made its treasurer, largely just in case anyone wanted to donate money to the cause and to track group-related expenses. They also planned to ask Dobby if he would have liked to act as their liaison with the elves themselves. Afterward, Hermione had bundled up a little more and made her way down the path to Hogsmeade, having retrieved her purse and a backpack in the tower, while Ariadne drafted up a possible letter to send to the Quibbler, wondering if they, the only tabloid that had supported her reaction to Remus’ outing, would react pleasantly to her adding elves to her litany of activism. It was only little, but after Hermione - as the group’s leader, insisting Ariadne didn’t have the time - had approved it, she’d sent it off on Hermes’ wing with a smile. It had been a productive day, and she was almost cheerful compared to the dull mood that had draped over her after her name had been spat out of the Goblet of Fire.

\--

As Ron surreptitiously made his way out of Gryffindor Tower toward Hagrid’s house for the night, Hermione set to work collaborating with Ginny to copy out the logo she’d designed for SPEER onto the several dozen blank badges she had bought.

“I saw Malfoy in there, you know,” Hermione mused as she glued the paper onto a badge and reapplied its cover. “Wonder what he was doing in Scrivenshafts, it looked like he was looking at badges too.”

“Really?” Ariadne asked as she mused over some sheet music, her golden wand lying on the book and the guitar standing, leaning on the sofa. “Maybe he wants everyone to know he’s pureblood,” she murmured, sniffing in amusement. “Hey Angelina,” she added, waving over to the other Quidditch player as she stepped into the Common Room, passing an almost hiding Ron.

“Ha. Maybe he’s started the Society for the Protection of Pureblood Supremacy. SPPS,” Ginny added, blowing a raspberry to substitute the acronym, eliciting a snort from Ariadne.

“Hey Ariadne,” Angelina said, coming over. “Wish Quidditch was still on,” she grumbled as she crashed down onto the sofa. Ariadne grumbled in agreement. “Hey, what’s this?” she asked. “SPEER, what’s that?” Hermione grinned, looking up.

“Well, go ahead, Public Relations,” she said, gesturing to Ariadne.

“Oh! Right, er… so, we’re raising awareness for elves!” Ariadne explained. “SPEER stands for the ‘Society for the Promotion of Elven Employment Rights,” she added, smiling. Angelina frowned, confused.

“Elves? You mean those house elf things? I’ve not heard much about them.” Angelina asked. Both of Angelina’s parents were non-magical, so it made sense. Ariadne nodded.

“They’re a whole species, but they’ve been enslaved. Hogwarts has a contingent, actually. We know one, his name is Dobby, but he’s not an enslaved elf because I helped free him two years ago. He’s working for pay, he’s allowed clothes, but that’s because Professor Dumbledore hired him,” Ariadne told her. “The others are bound by the Governors, and every time they’ve tried to get what Dobby has, they’ve laughed them out of the room.” Angelina frowned, horrified. “So we’re trying to raise awareness to help put pressure on the Governors, to force them to free the elves from the magic bindings and pay them. And more than Dobby’s getting, he’s only getting a galleon a week, which is five pounds in non-magical money.”

“Huh. That’s… that’s actually really nice of you!” Angelina said, smiling. “I had no idea it was so bad, they’re really enslaved?”

“Not even allowed clothes,” Ginny told her, not looking up from her drawing.

“Yikes. Can I join?” Angelina asked, eagerly. The three smiled, before Hermione quickly dug into the pile of completed badges.

“Absolutely!” Hermione cried, handing her one. “Oh, Ariadne, there you go,” she added, passing one to Ariadne as well. Ariadne beamed at her sister, trying to cast the Blindsight Charm on the ink before realizing there was a plastic covering as Hermione spluttered.

“Right way up?” Ariadne asked, holding it up to her robe after undoing the safety pin on the back.

“Yep!” Hermione replied, and Ariadne carefully pinned it to her robe as straightly as she could, and Hermione put one on as well.

“Can I help?” Angelina asked, standing up after pinning her own one to her jumper. Hermione nodded, pointing to the pile of circular papers with logos on and the blank badges. As Angelina started adding to the little production line, Ariadne hoisted her guitar onto her lap and started hesitantly playing.  _ D chord _ .

“ _ I bless you madly… sadly as I tie my shoes… _ ”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so! A few things:  
> 1) The way the canon portrays ‘house’ elves is frankly absurd to me. Even the folklore they’re supposed to be based on was NOT ‘slaves happy to be slaves.’ Folkloric brownies were, as far as I can tell, completely free agents who would help and it was expected that you leave them food (cream, porridge or cake). They were also completely free to leave whenever they wished, and would do so if they felt slighted, taken advantage of or disrespected. Being given clothes ‘freed’ a brownie, but by most accounts in the sense that they would take it as an insult and leave.   
> I would like to clarify that the way I am portraying elves is quite different. You can’t just show me Dobby quite obviously having been abused to the point he is *punishing himself for assisting Harry* and tell me elves are happy to be enslaved. It is a case of the wizarding world going ‘oh it’s just the way it is,’ while the elves are bound by magic.  
> 2) The way everyone reacts in canon to S.P.E.W. is frankly absurd to me. Canon!Harry is culturally muggleborn, I don’t see why he wouldn’t take issue with the wizarding world having chattel slavery especially when he’s seen how bad it can be. At LEAST the other muggleborns should be more on board.


	123. Badgering Badges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne discovers that SPEER are not the only ones circulating badges, and Professor Moody underestimates her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really celebrate Christmas lmao, I’m an atheist and I don’t really have the disposable income to be doing the weird secular commercial side of it, so y’all will get your Kaleidoscopic Grangers fixin’s uninterrupted! I will be taking a break just after New Years for a few days though, having family over (I’m in New Zealand, all safe, don’t worry).  
> TW: Bullying

Hogwarts, it seemed, had decided to put Ariadne under the spotlight of merciless scrutiny and mirth again, Ariadne discovered as they returned to their classes that week and October gave way to November, bringing her encounter with a dragon ever closer. It was not only the SPEER members proudly wearing badges - the ranks of which had grown to include the Creeveys, Kellah and Dean as well as Angelina by that Thursday - but many of the student body wore different, larger ones that glowed blue and green upon their robes. Nobody wearing them was exactly kind to her either, as Ron and Hermione strode along beside her as they made their way back from Charms, and she could hear them calling her names as soon as they got near.  _ Cheat _ , someone muttered, before Ron span to face them and served them perhaps the nastiest glare she’d ever sensed him give anyone. Hermione shook her head, sighing as another pair bearing badges approached to pass them in the corridor, along the side of the courtyard.

“Good luck, Granger!” one spat sarcastically as they walked by, their badges making a whirring noise. Ariadne wasn’t sure what was on them, but she knew they were magical. From the behaviour of those wearing the things, it almost certainly related to her.

“Granger stinks!” the other called a few seconds later, to a scoff from Ron.

“No she doesn’t,” Ron muttered. “ _ You _ do though,” he added under his breath, as Hermione chuckled at him and a shorter student, probably a first year, ran past, calling ‘ _ Cedric rules! _ ’

“I don-don-I don’t know why they think that’d matter,” Ariadne said, smiling wryly. “It’s not like I want to win, more power to Cedric I say,” she added, as Ron snorted.

“Yeah, Cedric rules,” the boy laughed. “But you’re pretty cool too. And you don’t stink, honest,” he added, patting her shoulder as Ariadne cast her magic sense about the lush courtyard. It was a fairly pleasant day, the weather was nice for mid autumn, but Ron could smell rain coming. It wouldn’t last, and Ariadne wondered if rain would make it any easier to fight a fire-breathing dragon in twenty days. 

That was less than three weeks, she realized with a shock.

“You smell cooler than Cedric, he doesn’t smell like magic,” Ron added into her ear, smiling. “Hey, shall we book the room and run an obstacle course? Can blind me and I’ll see if I can find you,” he asked, as Hermione and Ariadne stopped. Ariadne grimaced.

“I don’t want to keep casting that on you, Ron. Even Professor McGonagall could see your eyes are all bloodshot,” Ariadne told him reproachfully. Ron snorted and pulled his scarf up, his own SPEER badge being used to pin it still.

“Blindfold,” he said simply, trying not to laugh.

“Oh!” Ariadne exclaimed. “Oh, right, okay. Yeah, maybe we can try that.” She frowned, sensing about to see who was around and finding the core of Cedric standing in the courtyard, his voice angry at someone. It had been niggling at her brain all week, but as the task approached, the four Champions had mostly dispersed from one another and she’d never had the opportunity. “Gimme a second, I need to tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Ron asked, as she hurriedly started toward the nearest archway, where a group of four were standing with badges glowing as they laughed to each other.

“Cedric,” she replied simply, before the pair stopped her in her tracks by closing like a saloon door on her, holding the blue and green circles on their robes up. Ariadne jumped, backing away a step instinctively as Ron looked over suddenly and Hermione started anxiously tapping her knuckles. What were they doing?

“Like the badge, Granger?” the tallest, a boy, asked, as the three girls he had been standing with snickered at her spluttering expression. She frowned.

“It- it… badge?” Ariadne stammered. “Oh. I don’t-I don-a-I don’t-I don’t-ach-don’tach-don’t- I don’t actua-actually know what it is,” she said, before they all burst out laughing as her cheeks went flushed.

“She can’t even see it!” one of the girls cried, doubled over in laughter and pointing as Ariadne rolled her eyes. Ron had taken a step forward, and was clearly eyeing her to see if he needed to intervene.

“Excuse me,” Ariadne said quietly, refusing to engage. It seemed they weren’t interested in moving as Ron took another step forward, but she had it under control. Grimacing, Ariadne shoved her arm through the gap between them and pushed through unceremoniously. Shaking her head darkly, she made her way across the lawn while her peers behind her relaxed as Ron intercepted Seamus to chat. Now she was unimpeded, she could tell what Cedric was so annoyed by, as he and some other students stood around a bench.

“No, Harold, it’s not the support of me I  _ object to _ , it’s its attitude towards Granger. Girl’s got enough to fucking deal with right now, take the fucking badge off,” Cedric told a boy standing by him angrily, shoving his side as the boy in question - presumably Harold, although Ariadne didn’t know him - scowled. Most of his peers appeared to be wearing them, although Cedric at least bore no such magical badge.

“Ayyyyy! Read the badge Granger!” Harold cajoled as Ariadne approached, earning what was almost a punch in the sternum from Cedric as the other champion turned from her suddenly. The group fell silent as Cedric glared at them, before turning back to Ariadne.

“Hey Granger,” Cedric said quietly, stepping away from his peers who’d started laughing amongst themselves.

“Hey, uh, can I-can I have a word?” she asked, internally looking around for a slightly more secluded spot.

“Yeah, sure,” Cedric replied, looking about as he followed Ariadne over to where the branches of one of the few trees on the lawn hung down as Ariadne licked her lips anxiously. Cedric had promised to help her, and they were in agreement that the rules didn’t apply, but the reverse was not necessarily true. She was definitely breaking the rules.

“Dragons,” she finally said, as they stopped. The towering boy’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, his mouth hanging open. “That’s the first task, they’ve got one for each of us,” she told him.

“I- uh- are you serious?” Cedric asked, leaning down a little to be more discrete. Ariadne nodded, noting the presence of Draco Malfoy in the boughs of the other side of the tree and her friends slowly walking around the courtyard to stay near her, even as they talked with Seamus. Cedric looked… spooked, was the closest thing Ariadne could think of, but she’d gotten fairly good at reading expressions. His peers seemed to have resumed their mockery of her, as Cedric made a face at them before turning back, worriedly. “And… uh, Viktor and Fleur, do they..?”

“I have reason to believe so, yes,” Ariadne replied, nodding. During the week, Ron had confirmed a suspicion he’d picked up that night - it was definitely Karkaroff and Maxime he had smelled as having been there as well, even if their scents were muddied by the smoke and dragon-handlers there.

“Right…” Cedric murmured, frowning to himself. “Hang on, how do  _ you _ know?” he whispered.

“I can’t tell you that, sorry,” Ariadne replied, shaking her head, glad nobody could trace her lines of concentration as she briefly focused internally on the brilliant blue spikes that were Ron’s condition. “Anyway, I should um…” she said, starting to walk away before Cedric caught her arm.

“Hey listen, about the badges,” he said, a little louder. “I’ve asked them not to wear them, but…”

“I can’t even see them, don’t worry about it,” Ariadne replied, shrugging.

“Oh. Oh… um, you should know. They’ve got two like, modes? One is a ‘support Cedric Diggory’ image, the other is ‘Granger Stinks,’” he told her. “I think that prat Malfoy’s making them.” To Cedric’s surprise, Ariadne snorted.

“Not surprised. Couldn’t even think of something original, people have said that to me  _ and _ Hermione since I was seven,” Ariadne sneered. She didn’t  _ like _ the fact Malfoy was mass-producing bully badges, but it wasn’t even the most hurtful thing  _ he’d  _ said to her, let alone anyone else. If he wanted to sling shit, he’d need to find something more pungent. Hopefully he didn’t think of anything. Cedric looked at her alarmingly despite her mirthful tone, and she shrugged. “I’m used to it,” she simply said, internally eyeing the boy in the tree.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see if I can stop it,” Cedric said. “Have a good day, yeah?” Ariadne nodded as he stepped back to his friends and resumed his attempts to remove the badges from them, as Ariadne began making her way over to where her friends were waiting. As she neared the archway however, she faced upward, bemused, as a voice called out.

“What do you think, Granger?” Malfoy called, sitting in the tree with Crabbe, Goyle and a few of his other Slytherin toadies standing at its base. Ariadne suppressed a laugh and turned to him.

“I think-I think-I think many things, Malfoy, you’ll need to be more specific,” she called back, smiling sweetly at him. Her approach to this, she decided, would be irreverence; she knew it got under his skin.

“‘Bout the badges, Granger!” Goyle called as she walked over idly, Ron and Hermione hesitantly following and leaving Seamus to his business. Malfoy nodded, smirking, as Ariadne raised her eyebrows.

“Oh so those are your doing?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “What do they say?” Malfoy frowned, looking genuinely confused.

“But they’re magic…” he said, matter-of-factly. “Can’t you-”

“Yes, I can see the enchantment. Not the words,” she smirked as Malfoy deflated. “Do tell, what  _ do  _ your spectacular badges say?” she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“They’re to support Diggory, you see,” Malfoy called back, trying to pull his failed needling back. “The  _ real _ Hogwarts champion!” Ariadne nodded, pretending to think.  _ Well then _ , she thought.

“Got any spares?” she asked, pretending she didn’t know about their second mode. “Hey guys,” she added, smiling craftily at Ron and Hermione as they stepped by her.

“Plenty!” Malfoy called, picking up a box that sat beside him on the branch and shaking it. Ariadne hummed, and raised her hand in a beckoning motion. The boy’s grin widened, he thought he had her. So too did his peers, it seemed, as they started cackling. Giving her a smug look, Malfoy tossed her one from the box, which she caught effortlessly as the glowing disc tumbled through the air. She twirled it between her fingers, before show-womanly showing it to her friends. As Hermione spluttered a little, Ariadne winked at her and fiddled with the safety pin on its back, putting it on beneath her SPEER badge which hung from her cloak.

“Might as well support the  _ real _ Hogwarts champion. I’m not trying to win, you know, only survive. It’s a little unoriginal, though, don’t you think?” Ariadne told Malfoy, before turning to Ron and Hermione. “Granger Stinks? Come on, that’s-that’s nothing.” Malfoy’s mirth fell to disappointment as he realized she knew what she was doing, his friends shuffling awkwardly. Clearly trying to save face, the boy spluttered a bit before calling out again as Ariadne smirked, turning away to go about her day.

“Well- you’re not going to!” Malfoy called, to renewed laughter below. “ _ Survive _ .” Ariadne made a face, turning back to him with an amused smile. Wondering what he had this time, she stepped back over a little as Malfoy leapt out of the tree and landed softly, to a smug golf-clap from Ariadne. “My father and I have a bet, you see. I don’t think you’re gonna last ten minutes in this tournament!” Ariadne raised an eyebrow as Draco stepped forward, as Crabbe cracked his knuckles. “He disagrees. He thinks you won’t last  _ five _ !” Ron went tense, as Ariadne subtly held a hand back.  _ It’s fine _ . Smiling, Ariadne stepped forward a little as well.

“I don’t care what your father thinks, Draco,” she said simply. “He’s a vile and cruel arsehole, and frankly, you’re just pathetic. That’s-that’s even more original than stinky!” she added, turning around and holding up the second badge on her robe in mirth. Ron cackled as the three of them walked away, to let Draco stew in his own inadequacy. 

“Pathetic?!” Draco spat, fumbling with his robes as Ariadne’s deliberately condescending smile vanished, replaced by an alert expression as she reached for her own wand. By the time Malfoy had his unicorn hair core wand, silvery in her vision, pointed at her, her own was already slung over her shoulder.

“ _ Protego! _ ” she exclaimed, without even turning. However, there was no characteristic dull thud of a spell against the green shield that erupted from her wand.

Instead, there was the angry voice of Professor Moody stepping out from behind a pillar, a jet of purple shooting from his wand.

“Oh no you don’t, sonny!” Moody bellowed, jabbing his wand at Malfoy as her shield faded and Draco shrieked, the purple wave blowing over him as he shrank. Hermione and Ron shot around, and Ron drew back at the sight of the small rodent, not unlike a guinea pig but longer, which took the place of Draco Malfoy. “I’ll teach you to curse someone when their back is turned!” Professor Moody snarled, striding forward with remarkable pace for a man with a prosthetic limb. “You stinking… cowardly… scummy… back-shooting...” he added, throwing his wand forward with a yellow tendril that grabbed the warbling rodent and started waving it in the air, Professor McGonagall hurrying over while Malfoy’s friends drew back, horrified.

“Professor Moody! Wh-what are you doing?!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed, coming to a stop as Crabbe watched the shrieking animal bouncing in front of him in the air.

“Teaching,” Moody growled, as Ariadne frowned, turning to actually face them. As she recalled, Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody wasn’t exactly against back-shooting.

“Is that a-  _ Is that a  _ **_student_ ** ?!” McGonagall cried, jumping at his explanation.

“Technically it’s a ferret,” Moody replied angrily, floating the ferret-ified Malfoy closer to Crabbe and grabbing the boy’s trousers, shoving the ferret down them. Crabbe did not exactly appreciate his underwear’s new furry companion, as he whimpered at the laughing crowd of students - including Cedric - that had gathered. Of those around, only Ariadne and Ron weren’t laughing - even Hermione was giggling a little.

“Stand still, stand still!” Goyle exclaimed, leaping over and throwing his hands down the front of Crabbe’s trousers, only to cry out in pain and withdraw his hand, evidently having earned some teeth for his attempt. Moody leaned back, his wand away and his staff sticking into the ground, and winked at Ariadne, who only frowned at him.

“I had it,” Ariadne muttered. After a few moments, the slinky animal found its way out of Crabbe’s left trouser leg and back onto the ground, wherein McGonagall immediately poised her wand and sent a disturbing wave of blue magic through him, a haggard Draco Malfoy once again standing up, frantic as it took a moment for him to realize it had been reverted. Terrified, he turned to Professor Moody.

“My father will hear about this!” he yelled, backing away before jumping and fleeing as Moody stepped forward.

“Is that a threat?!” Moody exclaimed incredulously, abandoning his cane to lean on an angle in the dirt as he sprang forward to follow him around the tree and as McGonagall tried to get his attention, using her wand to point for emphasis. “ _ Is that a threat?! _ ” Malfoy got around the tree, fleeing past Ariadne as Moody span, following again. “ _ I could tell you stories about your father that would curl even  _ **_your_ ** _ greasy hair, boy! _ ” he bellowed after him.

“Alastor!” McGonagall yelled.

“It doesn’t end here!” Moody added, standing before McGonagall.

“ _ Alastor! _ ” McGonagall tried again, finally getting his attention as he relaxed a little, before McGonagall’s wand pressed against his chin. “We  _ never _ use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely Dumbledore told you that,” she spat.

“Might have mentioned it,” Moody replied sheepishly.

“Well you will do well to remember it,” McGonagall told him darkly, tapping his chin before putting her wand away and turning to the gathered crowd. “Away!” she ordered, dispersing the crowd immediately as Moody stuck his tongue out at her before retrieving his staff.

“You, come with me,” he growled at Ariadne, painfully stepping back over to the ring of stonework around the lawn. “Not you two,” he added, as Ron and Hermione went to follow as well. The pair didn’t look pleased, but desisted as Ariadne bewilderedly followed the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor as he lead her to the third floor, and his office. She had never been inside the office of Professor Moody, and it bore little to no resemblance to the layout it had held when she’d had her first real conversation with her godfather. If Ariadne had thought the classroom cluttered, this was something else, as a kaleidoscope of strange-coloured implements littered the tables, drawers, walls and windowsills, a glowing orange box standing by the door as the man sat down at a desk in the smaller, less chaotic section of the office space. It seemed he was removing the mundane leg that he’d stood on, his coat hanging off his chair as he painfully removed the device and sat it atop a stand before him.

“That’s a Foe-Glass,” Moody told her, catching her confused and intrigued expression, standing in the doorway as she took in the room. “Lets me keep an eye on my enemies. If I can see the whites in their eyes, they’re standing  _ right behind me _ !” he added, cackling before the orange box shook violently, a roaring noise emanating from it as she shrunk away from it. “Wouldn’t even bother telling you what’s in there. You wouldn’t believe it if I did,” he told her as she wrestled her heart back into submission from the fright it had gone through. “Now,” Moody said quietly, unwrapping something and taking out something long and thin. “What are you going to do about your dragon?”

Ariadne drew back, frowning.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. Moody snorted.

“Lassie, let’s not beat around the bush. Sit,” he told her, kicking a stool over to her with his remaining leg and pulling himself along on his own wheeled chair. “Cheating’s a well-honoured element of the Tournament. Listen to me, Granger. Your pal Diggory? By your age, he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time,” he said, leaning toward her as she hesitantly took the stool.  _ If the watch is singing, he’s done something wrong _ , Ariadne thought. “Miss Delacour? She’s as much a fairy princess as  _ I _ am. As for Krum, his head may be filled with sawdust, but Karkaroff’s is  _ not _ !” Ariadne frowned disdainfully at Moody’s assessment of the Bulgarian champion. To her discernment, the young man was actually really quite thoughtful. “They’ll have a strategy. And you can bet that it will play to Krum’s strengths! Hmm?”

“Ww… I… I’ve got a few,” Ariadne mumbled. Moody looked at her expectantly, almost surprised. “If I can blind it, I’ll have the advantage, as long as I stay quiet, like the Basilisk,” she told him. Moody nodded. “I’m a fair flyer, so if we need to get away from it then I can summon my broom,” she added, running through the list of approaches she, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had devised. “If we have to kill it, then that will be… potentially problematic,” she added nervously.

“Better than fair, the way I heard it,” Moody said, leaning back again. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Granger. You’re better prepared than I thought. No nervous wrecks here, eh? Skeeter needs to get her story straight,” he barked, laughing.

Ariadne sniffed amusedly. She wouldn’t quite go  _ that _ far.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the Task approaches.


	124. A Proven Strategy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the 24th of November comes, and Ariadne must face a dragon alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might run long, let’s see. (yes, it ran VERY long, wow - it was a ‘it’s as long as it needs to be’ chapter and hoo boy it got to 5400 words)

Ariadne had not slept. Nor had she slept the night before, or the night before that, as Wednesday the 24th of November approached with a rapid carelessness for her emotions, and so too did a horde of dragons, one of which she would face that day. 

For three weeks, her three best friends had ruthlessly drilled her through exercises and obstacle courses, sometimes even without her glasses to aid her. She was almost so bruised and battered that she felt like Ron did, having tripped, fallen and been hit with unexpected jinxes over and over again. The boy, despite her consistent failures to lose him, insisted she’d be fine against a dragon - that he had better senses than one, and that she was doing well, but she could not help but doubt. The dragon was going to hear her, and rip her into screaming pieces. Or roast her. Or simply squash her, or any number of ways a dragon could kill her. Perhaps it would give her a quick death at least.

Her contemplations rang through her skull as she lay awake through the wee hours of the morning, the pinpricks of light she’d cast above herself when she’d first gone to bed drifting aimlessly above her. It was torturous. At least when she’d faced the Basilisk, she’d not been dreading it for months. She had not had months to imagine Basilisk venom coursing through her. But she had had a month to imagine the spines of a Hungarian Horntail tearing into her, to imagine the white-hot invisible fire of the Swedish Short-snout blazing into her and reducing her bones to ash in seconds.

To know that her sister, tossing and turning in the next bed, would watch. Hermione would see her die that day, at the claws of a dragon. Hermione would watch the sister she’d rescued die.

All because someone wanted her dead. All because of things she didn’t even remember. All because an evil wizard had wanted her to die thirteen years before, and nearly died himself. The Girl Who Lived wouldn’t be a very accurate title anymore.

Her pillow was damp with tears, she realized as she wordlessly sat up, the clock tower tolling for six o’clock in the morning. Ten hours. Ten hours, and she died, at four o’clock in the afternoon. Or at least, the task started at four. She’d be thrown to a dragon to eat in ten hours.

Nine hours and fifty nine minutes.

She got up. She knew she wasn’t going to sleep, as she mentally let the stars fade away and sat there sullenly. She’d already figured out what she was going to be wearing a few days in advance. It was most of her Quidditch uniform from the last year, without the long robe - anything long was a tripping hazard. Along with the matching boots, she also wore, instead of the Quidditch gloves, her dragon-hide gloves she had for Potions. At least her hands would survive if she was enveloped in flame. It brought her a tiny modicum of happiness to know she’d grown a little since first trying on the sports bra she’d specifically bought for Quidditch that year, four months before, and her potions were still granting her their estrogenating boon, but it quickly soured when she wondered what the point had been. If she were to die that day, it would all have been a waste.

Somehow, Ariadne had underestimated how quickly ten hours could pass, as a quiet breakfast blurred into a fearful lunch, as the school prepared for the day’s event. It disturbed her, how everyone else saw it as just another sporting event. Fred and George were taking bets, no doubt in an attempt to finance their joke shop, and almost everyone had banners and apparently face paint. Hermione, Ron and Ginny had all been somewhat serious about it, although they did bear their own supportive gear - Ron and Ginny had painted her initials on their cheeks, while Angelina, Katie and Alicia had collaboratively made an entire banner supporting her. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or if she hated it. This wasn’t just a game. This could kill her. It probably would.

Ron, despite feeling like, in his words, ‘utter death,’ had downed an entire bottle of Pepperup that morning to stave off his condition. The full moon was in two days, and even knowing full well how terrible he’d feel the next day as a weeks worth of built up windup compressed into one day, he refused to stay in bed for the task. He could not stomach the idea of waiting around to find out if his best friend was okay. Ariadne wasn’t sure what drinking an entire bottle of the stuff would do to him, if he’d only poisoned himself again, but she was glad to have his rock-solid, albeit a little dazed, support.

Before she knew it, however, she was being dully lead up the craggy hills and rocks by the other champions, walking in a column to a large mundane tent positioned beside what she could only presume was the coliseum of her demise, a vast circular structure other students were spilling into like a flood. Cedric had opted for much the same outfit as Ariadne, albeit with his robe, while Viktor wore a thick jumper, bandaged hands and a long fluffy coat, and Fleur a probably fireproof vest from its pattern, and track pants, gloves and thick shoes. At least Ariadne wasn’t alone in lacking a flowing robe, but she had made sure she’d worn the Quidditch shirt that was a size too big for her to hang low enough to ensure she felt comfortable. Finally, she’d replaced her usual glasses for the spare pair Hermione had made, wide plastic things with a string instead of a chain, but sufficient for short notice.

The inside of the tent was just as cavernous as she’d expected - within was a large central chamber, with a partial wooden floor giving way to turf in the middle, and four compartment bed areas. Hospital beds, Ariadne knew. There were a number of crates littering the floor, and a ladder leading up to the top of one of the main poles supporting it which appeared to lead to a canon, while Krum got a goblet of what was probably juice from a large round tank of some sort from a snacks and drinks table.  _ Excellent, I can stress eat while I wait to die _ , Ariadne thought wryly as she heard Dumbledore making an announcement outside and wondered whether her remaining lifespan was best measured in hours or minutes.

“Your attention please!” she heard his voice boom out over the loud crowd. “This is a great day for all of us,” he began. Ariadne frowned, grimacing to Cedric as she paced past, jumping at a roar outside. One of the dragons. None of them were exactly calm, stressed at the absolute least as their cores fluctuated anxiously. “Each of the three tasks involves very considerable danger. Please keep your seats at all times…” he explained, before Ariadne heard a shuffle outside the tent flap and a voice.

“Psst!” Ariadne jumped, spinning about a bit beside the side of the tent before getting a little closer. “Psst! ‘Adne? Is that you?” Hermione hissed through the canvas as Ariadne leant over to where she thought she was.

“Yes,” she replied quietly, hearing the fear in Hermione’s voice.

“How are you feeling? Okay?” she asked, every syllable wavering in the air as Ariadne grimaced.

“Ehh,” Ariadne replied, as she realized it wasn’t just Hermione out there - she could definitely hear more feet than just her sister’s.

“The key is to concentrate. After that, you just have to…” Hermione whispered.

“Battle a dragon,” Ariadne finished the sentence. One of the pairs of shoes crunched forward and the flap exploded outward at her before she found herself wrapped in the sniffing form of Ronald Weasley, who was holding on for dear life, the magical cores of Hermione and Ginny standing right behind him as Hermione too made a motion to hug her.

Before, that was, a cone of green light shot out from the other entrance to the tent, sweeping over her as Rita Skeeter and her photographer, carrying an enchanted portable camera with an extraordinarily long lens, stepped in. Ron jumped as the snap echoed out through the tent, flinching back as the flash must have hurt his eyes, and Hermione and Ginny stepped in.

“Oh! Young love!” Rita crooned, striding into the tent confidently with her hands together as Ron stepped back, the QuickNotes Quill hovering beside her and scratching away as it always did. “How… stirring,” she added, pointing to the quill with a smug look at the chosen word. “If everything goes… unfortunately… today, you two may even make the front page!”

“You have no business here!” Viktor called angrily, stepping forward from where he’d been himself pacing. “This tent is for Champions, and friends!” he added, tilting his head toward the trio that had just invaded the space so suddenly.

“No matter,” Rita said sinisterly, somehow exchanging looks with what was, for all intents an purposes, an inanimate hovering quill. “We’ve uh, we’ve got what we wanted,” she added, letting the quill flick at Viktor’s chin. Hermione’s hand found Ariadne’s as the reporter stalked away, and another cone of green flashed out over Viktor and Cedric, while Fleur glared at Skeeter. Behind her, the tent flap opened again and Professor Dumbledore, Barty Crouch, High Master Karkaroff and Madam Maxime all dipped in, Maxime quite literally stooping to enter as Filch crept in as well, heading to the ladder.

“Good day, Champions! Gather ‘round please,” Dumbledore announced, stopping as he almost walked into the back of Ron. “Oh. It seems we have a surplus Granger and some Weasleys?” he asked, almost humorously.

“Sorry sir,” Ron said. “We’ll just… go,” he said quietly, hugging Ariadne again before stepping out.

“Good luck, ‘Adne,” Ginny whispered as she embraced Ariadne, the only joyful thing that had happened to her all day or indeed all week, before she too left with an anxiously bobbing and arm-shaking Hermione in tow, disappearing behind the flap. This was it. The first task was beginning.

“Now, you’ve waited. You’ve wondered, and at last, the moment has arrived, a moment only four of you can fully appreciate,” he said suspensefully, as Barty Crouch grinned over his shoulder and Ariadne questioned the use of the word  _ appreciate _ . Dread, perhaps was a better one. Her stomach felt like a brick, but yet at the same time a whole nest of writhing snakes. “Barty, the bag,” Dumbledore said, ushering Crouch forward with a pouch.

“Champions, in a circle around me,” Crouch told them almost jumpily, taking Ariadne’s arm. “Miss Granger, over here, Miss Delacour…” he muttered, pulling Ariadne to stand on his direct right, with Fleur beside her. “Mister Krum… and Mister Diggory, there, that’s right. Now. Miss Granger, if you will? Ladies first,” he said, offering Ariadne the bag and splaying its top to a concerning hissing noise, like embers of a fire. Hesitantly, her face surely shock white by now, Ariadne reached one of her gloved hands into the bag, and jumped as something moved within, brushing against her hand. Assuming she needed to grab it, she pinched it between her fingers and lifted it out.

What greeted her was a dragon. Or rather, a model one, enchanted in an emerald light as she dropped it onto her other hand, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to figure out which one it was.

Of the four breeds Ron had identified, only one had four true legs and would have counted in Muggle literature as a ‘true’ dragon, the others had two and their wings.

“The Welsh Green!” Crouch called as it stood up on her hand and made an almost croaking noise from its wide snout. Ariadne sighed, almost reassured as she heard it breathe a tiny volume of fire. The Welsh Green would be the easiest of the four, she knew after researching them. It bore no spines to speak of, nor a particularly offensively useful tail, and its talons were shorter and duller than the others, as it had not as such evolved to perch like the others. Its teeth would be a problem, it had huge teeth like any dragon, but she was glad she’d gotten the Green - its fire was cast in a straight line jet rather than a widening cone, so it wouldn’t be able to find her by simply roasting everything nearby as easily.

“Miss Delacour?” Crouch asked, offering the bag to Fleur, who reached in and pulled out a model dragon with a veritably spherical head, enchanted just the same, but with many spines around its head and nasty looking wing claws. “The Chinese Fireball! Ooooo…” Crouch turned to Viktor, on the other side of himself from Ariadne, as Fleur exchanged a worried look to Madam Maxime’s proud one. “Mister Krum.” Krum reached in, taking out a not pleasant but not horrifying looking dragon.  _ That doesn’t have spines… Krum got the- _ “The Swedish Short Snout.” Crouch grinned, passing the bag along to Cedric as Ariadne’s heart fell, knowing exactly what was left. “Which leaves…” Cedric delved his hand inside, to pull out the final, snarling, spine-covered, horrifyingly dangerous model of the Hungarian Horntail, which clambered up the boy’s hand.

“The Hungarian Horntail,” Crouch confirmed, stepping back to face them all. “These represent four very real dragons, each of which has been given a golden egg to protect. Your objective is simple! Collect the egg,” he told them, as Ariadne’s mind was thrown into overdrive. “This you must do, for each egg contains a clue, without which you cannot hope to proceed to the next task. Any questions?” he added.  _ No pressure _ , Ariadne thought.  _ You got the easiest dragon, and you just have to get past it. It’s the Basilisk approach, you’ve done this before _ , she assured herself, even as she could not help but run comparable analysis of Basilisks and Welsh Green dragons and how much more deadly the Welsh Green was in this particular scenario. She wondered if they’d meant for her to get the Welsh Green, and not any of the others. “Let’s bookend this with the Hogwartses, shall we, Albus?” Crouch suggested, smiling. “Boy, girl, boy, girl.” That would make Ariadne the last contender, she realized. The final act of the play. The crescendo. Did they  _ expect _ her to die?  _ Probably _ .  _ Cedric, Fleur, Viktor, me _ . She didn’t know if she would rather it were alphabetical to put her first and get it over with.

“Very well. Mister Diggory. At the sound of the cannon, you may-” Dumbledore agreed, before being unceremoniously cut off by a monstrous BANG and the entire tent shaking as Filch lit the cannon and it went off immediately, sending a BOOM throughout the mountains as the crowd cheered wildly.

As everybody recovered from the shock, Ariadne having to get back up as she’d fallen over, Cedric stepped forward, breathing heavily as Ariadne heard the dragon-handlers begin to place what could only be the Hungarian Horntail into the arena. 

“You’re gonna do great!” Ariadne hissed, smiling wryly as she couldn’t help but fear for his life facing the fiercest breed of dragon she’d ever heard of. Karkaroff and Maxime frowned at her for her supportive behaviour, but she caught the edge of an uneasy smile on Cedric’s face before it gave way to fear and the boy stepped out of the tent, his footsteps clacking on the wooden stairs down. Taking a deep breath, Ariadne paced back over to her assigned little nook, sitting on the end of the bed as she carried the miniature Welsh Green model in her palm. Karkaroff, Maxime, Dumbledore and Crouch all departed as well, leaving the remaining three Champions alone and pacing.

She had never been able to see any of the images in the books they’d read about the dragons, so she admitted it helped to have a miniature version to study, as she held it up in her palm. While it bore no particular barbs along its spine like the Horntail had, there were the telltale bumps of scaly points running down its back. But that wouldn’t be a problem unless she tried to ride the thing.  _ Ariadne Granger, dragon rider. Wouldn’t that be cool? _ she thought.

“Our first Champion! Facing the Hungarian Horntail! CEDRIC DIGGORY!” Dumbledore bellowed out in the stadium, to uproarious applause and raging roars from what could only be the dragon in question.

\--

Ariadne’s heart hammered in her chest as the trumpets sounded to cry out that Viktor had completed the Task. Listening to the commentary of their scores, injuries and achievements had been agonizing enough as she’d urged each other Champion on eagerly - to the distaste of their headmasters - but it was in this moment, the limbo between when it was Viktor’s run over and her own turn, when it was torturous.

None of the words of encouragement she’d given Cedric, Fleur or Krum rang in her mind as she heard Dumbledore speaking, and the warbling roars of the Welsh Green as it was brought to bear. All she felt was fear, terror. She hadn’t eaten anything, she felt ill, and her fingers had long since gone numb as the tiny dragon model beside her curled up on the bed.

“Three of our champions have now faced their dragons, and so each one of them will proceed to the next task!” Dumbledore called, triumphantly. Ariadne stood up shakily, as Dumbledore continued into what she knew was her final curtain call. “And now our fourth and final contestant!” It was her turn to walk into the jaws of death. Walk was a generous term for the shuddering, fearful way Ariadne stepped down the path into the cave she’d sensed Cedric, Fleur and Viktor all vanish down, wooden stairs giving way to gravel and stone underneath her shoes. She was glad she’d worn thick, nondescript socks as she mulled over her plan in her head.

_ Common Welsh Green. Native to the mountain reservation in Wales, characteristic musical roar. Docile unless provoked, and its fire is projected in a narrow line _ , Ariadne thought.  _ Usually preys on sheep _ .

They were chanting her name. Cries of  _ Granger! Granger! Granger! _ met her ears as her glasses finally revealed the opening begin, a jagged and angular hole in the rock through which the voices echoed, before they fell silent as Ariadne stepped hesitantly onto the opening.

Across from her, on the other side of the rocky, jagged arena of crags and stones dug into the mountain, stood a snarling, angry, Welsh Green dragon. Its hide, ironically, glowed green out at her just like the Basilisk’s had, as it curled around the many-coloured blob that had to have been the egg it guarded. 

Ariadne frowned.

“ _ Accio _ egg?” she cast curiously, the warbling arm being bounced off the egg as the crowd laughed and she felt herself go red. “Didn’t think so,” she muttered, shaking her head as she sat down.

Whispers began rippling through the crowd.  _ What’s she doing? _ What she was doing was taking off her boots, undoing the laces and pulling them off. The dragon had yet to notice her, and so far was more concerned by the crowd as it snarled protectively. Staying low and moving slowly, Ariadne tucked her shoes away in a nook behind the rocks, and contemplated what she was about to do.

Viktor had lost points for the results of the same thing; when he had blinded the Short-Snout, it had damaged the very egg he was trying to retrieve in rage. She had to get it away from the egg before she blinded it, not only would she lose points but she might render the egg useless to her. Biting her lip, Ariadne cast her sense around, taking in both the arena and the crowd that surrounded it.

It was not difficult to find Ron, Ginny and Hermione, the former of whom’s cores unique by definition among the hundreds watching. Smiling at them with no joy behind it, she raised her wand once more.

The first task had begun.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she whispered, glad of her impeccable aim as a pebble was lifted into the air across the field, and with a flick of her wrist, she flung it at the dragon. The Welsh Green reacted, snarling and spinning in the direction the rock had come from. So far so good. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she muttered again, picking up what seemed to be a larger pebble and chucking it at the dragon with her wand. Once more, the dragon roared, its warbling tones almost uncharacteristic for a dragon as it cautiously prowled forward, reminding her far too much of a cat. An eighteen foot long cat that breathed fire and would probably want to kill her if it discovered her in its territory. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she whispered a third time, chucking a pebble at it and finally drawing it away from its egg as it bellowed angrily, leaping out toward the crevasses of the arena, searching for what was assailing it. Smiling, Ariadne cracked her neck and pointed her wand at the dragon.

“ _ Conjunctivitis _ .”

The burst of blue light stabbed out at the Welsh Green, catching it directly on the eyes as it squealed in musical pain and fury, blue energy stabbing at its eyes continuously. Now, all she needed to do was  _ keep _ it over there, and well away from  _ her _ .

“ _ Bombarda _ ,” she whispered, eliciting a loud, but in relative terms small, bead of red light to explode near the base of the arena near where it was, throwing bits of rock and stone everywhere as the Welsh Green, believing its target had revealed itself, threw itself at the source of the noise. Now she had its attention where she needed it. “ _ Conmutatio _ ,” she murmured, pointing her wand at the other end of the arena and hoping she’d found a suitable rock to transfigure. The gentle ringing confirmed her suspicions as the crowd was murmuring quietly, and a ring of keys had come into being nearby her adversary. “ _ Wingardium Leviosa _ ,” she muttered again, grabbing the keys and jangling them gently with her wrist as she took a step. And then another. Cedric had attempted to distract the Horntail by transfiguring a rock into a dog, but Ariadne wasn’t sure of the ethics of that. Regardless, she had her proverbial eye on the prize, and the Welsh Green was nowhere near it, its chain clattering through the rocks. Now, all she had to be was quiet, and keep the Green interested in the keys as it thrashed about furiously, searching blindly for its quarry - its quarry who was on the complete opposite side of the arena. She almost felt sorry for it, lacking a blindsight charm.  _ I’ll release you from it in a minute, girl _ , she thought whimsically as she winced at the sharp stones and rocks piercing into her feet. Maybe it hadn’t been worth taking her shoes off, she didn’t know, but she’d committed now as she wiggled her arm to jangle the keys again.

The crowd was hushed, as she sensed Hermione, Ron and Ginny beaming at her, amazed and impressed. There wasn’t far to go until the lilac, orange and periwinkle blue egg glowing before her, imperious in its wonder, and she forced herself to stay slow, not to run.  _ Stealth, Ariadne, stealth _ .

Examining the rock intensely in the light of the spare glasses, Ariadne took careful hold of the rock and began to climb. She was metres away from the egg, the Welsh Green circling the ring behind her as she tried to both wiggle her wand and climb the jagged stone.

CRUNCH

“WOAH!” Ariadne cried involuntarily, dropping the keys on the ground. They didn’t have the attention, however, as dozens of pebbles clattered away around her and she lost her grip, crashing back to the ground as the hushed throng gasped in unison. She was certain her hand was bleeding as she hurriedly retrieved her wand from where it had fallen, frozen in place as she sensed, just over the rock, the wings of the Welsh Green go poised and its head raise.

RROOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Ariadne shrieked as she heard the gigantic version of the same noise she’d heard occasionally from the model she’d held in her hand, how adorable it had once been until it threatened to kill her as she felt a blast of invisible flame smash straight into her back, agony filling her as she threw herself sideways, the egg getting caught in the bolt and going flying into the very same crevasse. She was on fire, she felt her hair shriveling up and her skin screamed at her as her Quidditch robes erupted into flame.

“ _ Aguamenti! _ ” she pleaded, throwing water all down her immediately burning back, surrounding herself with the smell of smoke and her own burnt, agonized skin.

And the magic around her faded into nothing, leaving her in darkness. The string on the glasses had been burned away, and the glasses themselves had warped from the heat, cracking and burning her ears as she hurriedly threw them off, their magic gone.

“ _ AURUM RADIA! _ ” she screamed as the Welsh Green leapt over toward her, the scar in the rock being illuminated with a minute on the clock, burning heat emanating from where she’d just been as she dashed toward the egg. She could have sworn she’d heard Hermione, Ron and Ginny scream, but all she could hear was her heartbeat and the eruptions of rock and stone around her as the dragon, no longer afflicted by the  _ Conjunctivitis _ curse, bellowed over her, adrenaline keeping her alive.

_ PLAN Z! _ Ariadne screamed at herself internally, spinning from her run and pointing her wand straight down the dragon’s throat.

“ _ BOMBARDA! _ ” she cried, sending a powerful red bolt straight at it.

CRASH!

The explosive spell had deflected off the edge of its mouth, blasting into the stands and sending splintered wood everywhere as paneling near the judges erupted into  _ bits _ . Pieces of wood clattered down over her as she fell backward, screaming out in pain as her burnt back scraped against the stone, her robe clearly in tatters and from the feel of it, one of the straps of the sports bra had gone PANG and was loose. As the Welsh Green’s head swung back toward her after flinching at the shards of wood that had just erupted in its vicinity, Ariadne willed her arm back up, desperately.

“ _ BOMBARDA! _ ” she tried again, the red bolt shooting up into its mouth as Ariadne pulled herself backward, scraping on the ground toward the egg. With a splat,  _ something _ happened as she was briefly showered in something damp and the dragon recoiled in fury, roaring.

She was dead. The crowd screamed. Ginny screamed.

Ariadne was about to die. She could hear the roiling sound of the fire building in its throat above her.

_ Bombarda  _ hadn’t been enough. Ariadne’s whole body tensed as she threw up her wand, one last time, with no belief she’d be alive in two seconds time. But she had to try.

“ _ BOMBARDA MAXIMA! _ ” she bellowed, sending a boiling, furious, beam of red energy powered by nothing less than pure, unadulterated terror, straight into the dragon’s mouth.

SSS--PLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH

Ariadne was showered in hot dragon vitriol as the Welsh Green’s cranium erupted all over the arena. She shrieked as the massive body of the dragon slammed down beside her, the crowd having gone from screaming in horror to complete silence, as she panted, not fully comprehending what she had just done.

The dragon was dead.

She had killed a  _ dragon _ .

Ariadne nearly fainted then and there. Instead, she gulped, inadvertently swallowing what had to be dragon blood and stood, regarding the carcass that was the fruit of her peril. Shakily, her mouth hanging open, white hot pain dominating her body, she collected the egg that sat not three feet from her.

As the crowd erupted into the most incredibly loud and raucous applause she’d ever heard in her life,  _ that _ was when she fainted.

\--

Ariadne woke an hour later, surrounded by Madam Pomfrey, her best friends and Dumbledore. She was lying on her front uncomfortably, while Pomfrey saw to what she was told had been a  _ horrific _ burn that she would always bear at least some small scars from even with the substantial magical intervention she’d received, and oddly, Ron knelt around her feet applying Murtlap Essence he’d had in his pocket the whole time to soothe the bloody cuts they’d suffered from the rocks.

She also wasn’t wearing a shirt, leaving her technically half naked in front of her peers, but that had been corrected quickly enough.

She hadn’t wanted to kill the dragon - she largely shared Hagrid’s sentiments, but it had been either her or the dragon. It had also been something that Crouch, Karkaroff, Dumbledore and Maxime hadn’t expected  _ any _ of the contestants to manage, and so, she found to her amazement, she was in first place  _ despite _ losing points for her injuries.

Upon returning to Gryffindor Tower, she was greeted by a roar. Not that of a dragon, no. Not of hostility. But of applause and yells, of love. Of relief. As soon as she was over the threshold of the Gryffindor Common Room, she found herself  _ immediately _ surrounded by what could only be described as downright euphoric fans, as Ron tapped his wand to his ears and sent an orange glow through them, dulling his own hearing.

There were banners, and flags being waved as it seemed the entire House had been waiting for her in the room, as she froze, before realizing what was happening. This was a party. A party for  _ her _ , she realized, as a massive grin split her face. Her feet, soothed as they were by Ron’s Murtlap supply, combined with every other screaming ache in her body may have been killing her, but she strode into the crowd with a feeling she’d never felt before.

She wanted to be there. She wanted this. She  _ deserved _ this, she felt as she swung her arms into the air, elation filling her as she raised the egg to show the entire House, the tiny, battered frame of Hogwarts Champion Ariadne Granger the focus of attention. Beside her, both of the twins picked her up, the egg dropping out of her hands and into Ginny’s, and she was raised high above the crowd, her normal glasses having been restored to her face and revealing the expressions of newfound admiration she was met with.

“Knew you wouldn’t die, ‘Adne!” Fred cried, as the pair bobbed her up and down triumphantly. “Lose a leg,”

“Or an arm!” George added.

“Pack it in altogether?”

“NEVER!” the pair yelled, before turning their heads to the crowd and raising their respective free arms. “GRYFFINDOR! GIVE IT UP FOR OUR VERY OWN DRAGON SLAYER!!!!” they roared, punching the air. Ariadne found that even her grief for having effectively murdered a powerful magical being did not overcome the joy she felt in that moment, as the applause Ron was covering his ears for - despite the magic dulling his hearing - only intensified, as Ariadne found a new title added to the cheers, to who she was.  _ Ariadne Granger, Dragonslayer _ .

“Hey! Hey!” Ginny called, trying to get over the crowd as she stood right in front of the twins and Ariadne. “Shut it!” she yelled, before holding up the egg. Kissing it, Ginny held it up to her. “Go on, ‘Adne! Show us the clue!” Ariadne half-laughed, as the Common Room went excitedly quiet, tension filling the room.

“Hh-hhh… D-you w- dyou- want me to open it?!” she exclaimed breathlessly, taking the egg from the beautiful girl’s hand and holding it up. From the roar of the crowd, the answer was an enthusiastic  _ yes _ . “Want me to open it?!” she cried, slurring her words unintentionally but to no care from Gryffindor as the proverbial lion roared once more.

With the bottom of the egg cradled in one hand, she held it up and took her left hand to the clasp at the top, and twisted.

And the Common Room was filled with perhaps the most horrifying, ear-splitting shrieking noise she’d ever encountered.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, have a dragon-slayer.  
> Try not to imagine the Welsh Green as Toothless, because I p much did and it made me sad.


	125. Unwelcome Attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Yule Ball is announced, Ariadne is unsettled by the new and unwelcome variety of attention she finds herself receiving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye gods did I enjoy that chapter. Onward!  
> TW: Transphobia, dysphoria

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ We saw the news. Our little girl’s a dragon-slayer! We can’t put what Sirius said in here, but suffice it to say he is extraordinarily proud of you, as are we. The article said you got pretty badly burned, but that your injuries were tended to? We hope you’re okay. _
> 
> _ You really aren’t that little anymore, you’re a young woman now. The things you’ve been through, it’s heartbreaking to know how fast you had to grow up, how fast everyone has with everything that’s happened in the last few years. But you’re stronger for it. You’re stronger than you ever knew, and Wednesday proved that. You were afraid going into that arena, god knows anyone would have been, but you didn’t just get past it, you won. You defeated it. Remember that. Remember what you can do when you put your mind to it. _
> 
> _ Now we may not know much about magic, but we know one thing; taking down a dragon on your own is more than impressive. You, Ariadne Granger, are one hell of a witch. You keep saying you’re not trying to win, but we think you will anyway. You two always did go the extra mile. Let’s just say we wouldn’t mind putting the Triwizard Cup on the mantle. _
> 
> _ With love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad _

Ariadne had spent most of the remaining week in a blur of attention. Her dorm and the Hospital Wing were her only reprieve, sitting by Ron - who had  _ definitely _ made life worse for himself by his rash application of Pepperup to attend the task - while Madam Pomfrey checked on her bandages and reapplied various salves and creams that were to finish healing the significant burn up her spine. According to the woman, it was a wonder she hadn’t been paralyzed.

The attention she found in the hallways had, in the space of one day, swung from rampant disregard and disdain to admiration. She wasn’t sure if she liked it though, for this was not the admiration she had been given for her destruction of the Basilisk, no, there was another element that hadn’t been there before;

Apparently, she was, in the words of one Kenneth Towler - a sixth year Gryffindor boy she’d overheard in a corridor - “hot.” And not in the sense that she’d been burned, although her injuries certainly contributed to that perception. It seemed to have become a rather common belief among the boys in the school, to her dismay, and not just the Hogwarts ones. She may have been proud of how her figure had developed on the Estrogenating Elixir, but she could do without commentary. Stares and suggestively raised eyebrows often arrived behind her wherever she went, many not seeming to know that she could sense them doing it. She’d taken to wearing her cloak and closing it completely to render herself shapeless, wondering if it’d help.  _ Maybe they’ll stop staring at my arse as soon as they think I can’t tell if I look like a bag _ . She didn’t know if her rather shabby appearance, driven partially by how her hair was now entirely uneven thanks to the Welsh Green’s flame, was reducing her experience or only increasing it.

After all, Ginny  _ had _ said she’d looked cool covered in Basilisk blood. She couldn’t help but wonder what Ginny had made of it, but her newfound attractiveness to over half the school was not a topic they’d discussed. Nor had she discussed it with anyone else. Far too awkward, let alone to talk about it with the girl she had a heavy crush on.

Turning her attention to other things, Ariadne was a little miffed to know that due to her poor timing, what little coverage in the Quibbler had been devoted to elven employment rights and their campaign had been utterly crushed by the news of the Tournament and her own victory in the first task. The coverage had been really rather mixed, with views alternating between whether her switch to an offensive strategy had been an act of cowardice or the bold nerve of a cataclysmically strong witch - in truth, it had perhaps been somewhere in the middle, but the press never dealt with greys.

At least there was one person who felt worse than she did - Ron. With his sixth full moon in full swing and his frankly idiotic actions having caught up with him with a vengeance by Sunday, he was using his cane at all times and for the most part eating nothing but soup. It was almost disturbing to Ariadne that it had been seven months. He’d been a werewolf for half a year. At least he was, like Remus had said, beginning to bounce back, the unwinding period after a full moon getting ever so slightly shorter with each passing month.

“Oh for crying out loud, look what she’s done now!” Hermione exclaimed angrily, drawing a newspaper to herself as the four of them ate lunch together. “Ron, look at this,” she added, pulling his attention away from his lunch. “ _ Miss Ariadne Granger, a girl filled with rampant contradictions, seems to have found her match in the sickly Ronald Weasley, an unremarkable wizard often seen by her side, the only boy in her little posse of peers. Whether this relationship will survive her surely inflated ego, or if he’ll take a shine to the shyer Hermione Granger remains to be seen. _ ” Ariadne frowned, bewildered as Ron scowled and beckoned for the paper.

“She thinks  _ Ariadne’s _ contradictory? She doesn’t even like boys, why would she be with Ron?” Ginny smirked as Ariadne blushed, remembering the Veela at the World Cup as Ron’s eyes went wide and he pulled the paper to himself, his blue-lit finger tapping down on the love-heart shaped photograph that glared out green at her.

“Oh fuck…” Ron muttered, his magic spiking in anxiety as his mouth hung open.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, frowning as she and Ginny both leant over to see.

“Look, there. When the camera flashes,” he whispered, leaning well away from Neville who sat beside him, pointing at something. Hermione gasped. “My eyes. Hers don’t do it.”

“Oh no…” Hermione whispered, her magic jumping about similarly to Ron’s as Ginny’s eyes widened. “At least nobody’s noticed? It’s not on the front page, and people might assume it’s just because Ariadne doesn’t really have pupils, not unless you look really closely,” she suggested, wringing her hands together anxiously.

“Let’s hope,” Ron sighed darkly. “If they figure it out, I’m going on the registry before anything else happens though.” Ariadne winced.

“We need to keep her away from you. If she finds out, she will  _ not _ hold back,” Ariadne whispered. “It’d be on the front page the next day.” Ron, looking somehow even more ill at that prospect, went back to his soup shakily, jumping as a boy carrying a large box tapped him on the shoulder.

“Parcel for you, Mister Weasley!” the boy told him loudly.

“U-wuh?! Oh. Thank you, Nigel,” Ron replied softly, wincing a bit as he turned to take it from the boy. As Ron peered over it after setting it down on the table, Ariadne noticed that ‘Nigel’ hadn’t left, instead he stood looking at her expectantly, a book in his hands. Ron frowned as Hermione tried to look around him pointedly, and spun to see him there. He nudged him. “What? You- ugh,” Ron muttered briefly, before turning a bit more closely to him. “Bugger off, Nigel,” he almost growled through his teeth, making the boy jump and scarper. Shaking his head, Ron returned to his package.

“Wh-wha-wha-whaw-whawa-what was that about?” Ariadne asked. Ron sighed.

“Keeps asking me to get him your autograph,” Ron replied. “I keep telling him no, but he doesn’t seem to have gotten the message,” he muttered, undoing the string around the box and pulling the wrapping off. “Oh look, Mum’s sent me something!” he exclaimed, his mood having brightened exceptionally in the space of a second as Hermione pulled the cardboard top away so she could see, while Ron pulled out something large and fabric. The boy winced a little as he stood up slowly, holding it up in front of himself, to reveal a long robe with what looked almost like fluff on its collar and sleeves, but not quite fluff. “Mum’s sent me a dress?” Ron said, frowning as he looked down at it as Fred and George smirked down the way.

“That, Ronald, is a coat, even I can see that and I’m blind,” Ariadne told him jovially. “See, there’s even a bonnet,” she added, plucking one of the remaining pieces from the box and holding it up as Hermione picked through it all curiously. Ron snorted, before turning to Ginny on the other side of Ariadne.

“Ginny, this must be for you,” he said hesitantly, looking at it. Ginny made a face at him, somewhere between mirth and confusion.

“I wouldn’t wear that in a million years, it’s ghastly,” Ginny replied, as Hermione started laughing, having come to the same obvious conclusion as the smirking Ariadne. Ron span again, frowning.

“They’re not for Ginny. They’re for you!” Hermione said, to laughter all down the table. “Dress robes!”

“Dress robes? For what?!” Ron exclaimed, chucking the outer robe back into the box unceremoniously and sitting back down.

“The Yule Ball, silly. Comes with the Tournament on Christmas Eve,” Ariadne told him, smirking. “And just what is wrong with those?” she asked.

“Look at them! Oh, right. Sorry. Um. It’s all brown and orange!” Ron replied, as Ariadne’s attention was drawn elsewhere by a hushed but not whispered conversation on the Hufflepuff table.

“I dunno if Weasley is actually dating her,” a sixth-year boy said, while Hermione suggested that the robes therefore matched Ron’s hair and Ron spluttered about lace indignantly, and added that they smelled like his great aunt. “Maybe I should ask her out, you think?”

“Who?” someone next to him asked. “Granger, blind Granger?”

“Yeah. She’s hot, I mean she killed a dragon, man,” the first person replied as Ariadne went red and Ron seemed to hear them too, frowning as he waved his head toward the voices slightly. “What? That’s pretty fucking hot.”

“Forgetting something, Sodden?” the second boy said disdainfully. “She’s got a fucking cock.” Ariadne shrunk in on herself, horrified and mortified as ‘Sodden’ reacted.

“Oh yeah, eurgh. Easy to forget...” he groaned. Thoroughly disturbed, Ariadne stood up, leaving her lunch unfinished, and fled the Hall, holding her robes shut as Hermione and Ginny spluttered, confused as to why. Ron was bobbing over to follow her as quickly as he could with his walking stick, as Ariadne ran a hand through her hair, standing in the corridor.  _ Could they at least not say it like that?! _ Ariadne thundered in her mind, entirely too conscious of her body in that moment. It had been a while since she’d been truly uncomfortable as a result of her dysphoria thanks to the potions, but that winning streak had been broken.  _ It’s none of their business! _ Not only that, but as far as anyone else knew, she was fourteen, which only added a further axis to her horror, and it wasn’t any better in the knowledge that she was fifteen.

She almost wished she hadn’t come out to the wizarding world, at least then people wouldn’t be immediately repulsed by knowing approximately what she looked like naked even if they were being horribly inappropriate toward a fourteen year old girl. Then again, maybe it’d ward off some of the more unpleasant guys in the school.

“What’s wrong, Ariadne?” Ginny asked as they caught up with her.

“Don’t ask,” Ron told her, grimacing. “You heard them too?” Ariadne nodded. “Yeah, arseholes. I mean, yeah, you’ve got one, so what?” he exclaimed. “You’re a girl, that’s all that matters.”

“Oh no, were they talking about..?” Hermione asked, making a face as she played with her fingers. Ron nodded.

“Plus, you  _ are _ hot,” Ron added, to an immediate crimson flush from Ariadne and strange looks from the others. “What? I’m not wrong, just ‘cos you’ve got balls doesn’t mean you’re not cute.” Ginny smiled, sniffing amusedly. “They both are, shut up Ginny,” he added, pointing to the sisters haphazardly as Hermione’s magic spiked suddenly as she jumped, blinking as Ron grumbled and stepped away, the curly-haired girl smiling bashfully and biting her lip. Ariadne had to admit, even if it was shallow, the compliment helped a  _ little _ .

“Ah, Mister Weasley, Grangers, would you three mind heading to the fourth floor music hall?” Professor McGonagall said as she walked by, stopping as she passed them. “It’s regarding the Yule Ball, I am gathering the House, fourth years and up unfortunately, Miss Weasley.” Ron frowned, thinking.

“That’s on Christmas Eve, isn’t it, Professor?” Ron asked, tilting his head to Ariadne.

“Yes, it is, Mister Weasley,” Professor McGonagall replied. “Off you go.”

“I won’t be going then, see you guys,” Ron said reluctantly as McGonagall stopped from the stride she’d resumed and met his gaze with a frown. Ron held his hands up in a circle in front of him briefly. He’d been complaining for a few weeks that Christmas landed on a full moon that year, or rather Boxing Day did. Christmas Day would still be very unpleasant for him, however.

“Well, you  _ will _ be coming to this meeting anyway, Mister Weasley,” McGonagall said quietly but in a tone nobody would disobey. “I think you can appreciate that your illness being scheduled ahead of time would be potentially conspicuous, yes? Behave as if you will be going,” she told him. Ron nodded, and the three of them waved to Ginny as they began making their way toward the staircases to the fourth floor, and Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out in the halls.

\--

“It’s okay, we can finish our Charms homework tomorrow,” Ariadne assured Hermione, who was rather disgruntled at having her plans for the day disrupted by the meeting, as the fourth floor music hall filled up, with Professor McGonagall having directed all of the girls to sit on the west flank of the wing where chairs had been placed, and the boys to the east. Mister Filch had wheeled in a comically large gramophone record player, and Hermione was shuddering at every flick of sound it expelled as the man fiddled with the needle and McGonagall shepherded the last of Gryffindor house into the room. Satisfied, McGonagall stepped out toward the centre of the room.

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the…  _ Triwizard Tournament _ … since its inception,” Professor McGonagall announced, glaring at Filch as she was interrupted by the flickering static of the disruptions to the needle. Filch got the message and stepped away, instead examining the records themselves. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of  _ well-mannered frivolity _ ,” she explained, walking along and peering at them all. If it was to take place in the evening, there was no  _ chance _ Ron was attending, it may not have been a transformation night but nights near were always worse than the days. “As representatives of the host school, I expect  _ each and every one of you _ to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost… a dance.”

Murmurs rippled through the whole House, reactions mixed. Hermione was silent, but cringed at the prospect, while a good number of the boys had seemed to share her sentiment as they groaned. 

“Silence!” McGonagall called. “The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons!” she chided them. “Now. To dance… is to let the body breathe!” Ariadne shuffled in her seat a little, adjusting her cloak as she realized nobody else in the room was even wearing theirs. “Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight! Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance.” Ron shrunk down at that, before McGonagall smirked and stepped toward him. “Mister Weasley, will you join me please?” Ariadne suppressed a laugh, before realizing how unpleasant this was about to be for her friend as he winced and stood, clearly leaning on the arm Professor McGonagall had offered.

“Now, place your right hand on my waist,” she veritably ordered him, taking his shoulder as Ron gaped at her.

“Where?” Ariadne heard him mumble.

“My waist,” McGonagall repeated, as Ron hesitantly complied, as she took his left hand. Off behind him, one of the boys wolf-whistled, and Ron’s head shot around at them angrily, and McGonagall grabbed the hand he’d just released and returned it to her waist. “And extend your arm. Mister Filch, if you please?” The man leant over and set the needle upon the record, jumping a little as the waltz started playing. “One, two, three.. One, two, three.. One, two, three,” McGonagall counted, more and more obviously guiding Ron as even Ariadne could tell how uncomfortable he was, his older brothers snickering at it as they stood at the side of the room. “Everybody come together!” McGonagall called loudly, prompting the whole room to stand, Ariadne awkwardly stepping forward as Hermione quickly took Ron off of McGonagall, who chuckled gently. Hermione, it seemed, was having just as much trouble as she floundered with which hand to put on the boy’s shoulder compared to his other arm, and she tilted her head down to intensely watch her feet as the pair of them shuffled awkwardly around to the music, stepping on one another’s feet.

Ariadne, meanwhile, was floundering for a whole different reason, not knowing who to pair off with as her options quickly dwindled. Shortly, however, her embarrassing indecision was solved for her, as Neville stepped forward and offered his hand. She shivered in anxiety as the taller boy’s hand came to rest above her left hip, almost tickling her, and she hesitantly took his hand and shoulder.

“You okay, Ariadne?” Neville asked quietly as Hermione tripped and almost dragged Ron down to the floor with her, apologizing profusely for her difficulties in mimicking McGonagall’s movements. “You seem a little tense,” he said, as she struggled to keep in time with him.

“I-I-I’ve never-never-I’ve never- I’ve never danced before,” she replied breathlessly, frantically casting her sense around to see if she could figure out how everyone else was dancing.

“That’s okay, just follow what I do,” Neville told her. “I took dance classes when I was little, this is an easy one,” he added, prompting her to focus on his legs and what he was doing. It took a while, long after both Ron and Hermione, somehow both laughing at themselves and joyful despite the pain Ron was clearly in, retreated from the throng and sat down to retrieve his cane, but Ariadne eventually at least wasn’t hurriedly avoiding tripping over as Neville gently pushed her to guide her through the waltz.

Eventually, as the song ended, Ariadne awkwardly stepped away from Neville and was on her way to Hermione and Ron before Professor McGonagall intercepted her and pulled her to the side.

“I thought I’d take the opportunity to embarrass Weasley here, since he won’t be going, but I fear I may have chosen a poor time of the month,” the woman lamented, tilting her head at the clearly achy werewolf. “You are aware, Miss Granger, that you will be leading the dance?” Professor McGonagall asked her sternly but warmly. Ariadne froze, reviewing what she knew of the Yule Ball. Her mouth, however, was a few steps behind her brain, which had already worked it out.

“Huh?”

“The Champions of the Tournament are to lead the first dance. I suggest you find a date,” McGonagall told her, confirming what she already knew. “And you may wish to continue practicing the waltz.”

“I…” Ariadne spluttered, a million thoughts running through her mind. Who was she going to bring?! Who was she going to ask?! How?! What would she wear? What would the other Champions be wearing?! “I don’t have a dress,” she stammered. It wasn’t quite true, she had packed her favourite after wearing it to the World Cup, but that was most certainly not ‘leading the Yule Ball’ material. McGonagall nodded gently.

“Not to worry. Hogsmeade, Saturday after next. If you have a date by then, I will personally take the pair of you to find suitable outfits,” Professor McGonagall told her warmly. In that department, at least, Ariadne was relieved. “Remember, you are representing both Hogwarts  _ and _ Gryffindor. I won’t be having you embarrassing both, not on my watch.” Ariadne nodded hurriedly, not knowing if that was meant to be friendly or stern. She still had a number of questions, as McGonagall patted her shoulder and left her. 

Was she allowed to bring a girl?

\--

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ I told you he’d get cute ;) . You take care of the pup, he’ll need it. _
> 
> _ -Sirius _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very weird time for Ariadne after becoming the Cool Girl of the school.


	126. Girl Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne is pleasantly surprised by a far warmer Fleur Delacour paying her a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m enjoying these chapters immensely, and you’ll see why :)

> _ Sirius _
> 
> _ No, I am not dating Ron. That’s just what Rita Skeeter is propagating to try and create an infighting narrative or something. Although, I do wonder if it’d help get all the boys here off my back if we pretend we are. _
> 
> _ And we’ve been taking care of him for six months, silly. _
> 
> _ -Ariadne _

“I’m pretty sure that egg had music in it,” Ron whispered to Ariadne as they walked. “Really high, hurt my ears, but I could definitely hear music when you opened it.” 

“I couldn’t. You think you might be able to help decode it?” Ariadne muttered back, relying on how well he could hear as she spoke so quietly even she couldn’t hear herself, to make sure no-one else did. Ron nodded. “All right, well, we can make your ears bleed again later. I need a break,” she said, yawning. It had been almost a week since dance practices had become routine, the weather announcing it was well into early December, but Ariadne did not yet have a date. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to prevent anyone from asking her, and Ron had noted that almost all the girls in the castle had, forming what he could only jokingly call ‘packs.’ Ariadne belonged, usually, to a ‘pack’ that included Ron, as well as her sister and a few of her dormmates - Sally-Anne and Kellah were frequently involved, as well as Lavender and Parvati to a lesser degree, although there was still an overtone of distrust over Lavender’s initial disbelief of Ariadne’s unwillingness to enter the Tournament.

“Have you even  _ got _ a date yet?” Ron asked after several boys passed by and seemed to have been scared off by the large group she was with. “You’ve got options, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Ariadne asked, as Hermione frowned at him.

“Half the boys in the school want to go with you,” he replied. She was all too aware of that fact, it had been the half-dozen propositions she’d received - some with flowers, to her mortification - as soon as the Yule Ball had been announced that were why she was steadfastly refusing to travel alone. “You’ve got the pick of the crowd.”

“I thought she was going with you?” Lavender asked quizzically. Ariadne frowned at her, thinking back before realizing why she thought that.

“No, we’re not… we’re not a thing,” Ariadne spluttered, feeling her face go as red as Ron’s hair.

“Ha! Don’t tell Seamus, he thought you were taken so he asked me,” Lavender replied, smiling. “Just as well, he’s handsome. Mine now, keep your hands off him!” she added, as Ariadne chuckled. “Wait, then who  _ are _ you going with, Weasley?” Ron blanched a little.

“Err… I don’t know yet,” he replied awkwardly, as even Ariadne caught his brief glance at Hermione.

“And you’re getting on  _ her  _ case!” Parvati exclaimed, pointing to Ariadne. “Get yourself a date before you harp on about her!”

“Oh leave it, Patil,” Ron mumbled. “Dunno if I’d make a very good date anyway!” he added, holding up the walking stick - strictly speaking, he didn’t need it at the time because it was almost a new moon, but in order to make it less conspicuous when he did, he’d decided to take it with him most of the time.

“Oh I’m sure you’d be fine,” Sally-Anne assured him. “What about you, Granger, got a boy you’re thinking of asking?” she asked Ariadne.

“Um…” What on earth was she supposed to say? “I um, I… I don’t…” she stammered slowly, as Hermione went from a blank-faced bobbing motion to a much less varied walk while her face became a toothy grin. “Not a  _ boy _ ,” Ariadne mumbled.

“What do you mean? Wait, do you mean a  _ girl _ ?” Parvati asked, gaping. “Are you a lezzo or something?”

“Um. Yeah,” Ariadne replied, wary of that reaction as she sensed the characteristic slight purple cloud of the approaching Fleur Delacour appear in the courtyard behind them, as the young woman stood on her toes to scan around for something.

“Ha! No wonder you keep saying no to every boy in the castle, none of them have a chance!” Sally-Anne exclaimed. “Who  _ do _ you want to take, huh? Who is she?” she asked eagerly, leaning forward as Ariadne blushed.

“Oh leave her alone, Perks,” Ron grumbled jovially. Behind them all, Fleur did not seem to be making her way through to the bridge however, but rather making a beeline for their group.

“Excuse me, my apologies for interrupting,” Fleur said gently, parting attention immediately away from her as the girls span to her. “Granger… Ariadne? If I could borrow your time?” she asked, almost awkwardly in a surprising tone from the usually confident student.

“Uh- er, um, sure, yeah,” Ariadne spluttered, not having expected to speak to her. Fleur seemed far less… uptight was the first term that came to Ariadne’s mind, but she wondered if that was really the right one, as she followed the French girl over to some of the benches outside, the early winter’s air frigid against Ariadne’s face as she tucked her chin into her scarf.

“I er… I feel I should… offer an olive branch, hmm? I have misjudged you, and I apologize for my attitude toward you, Ariadne,” Fleur said gently, the feather of her accent flitting through the air. “In fact, I do believe the boys have been underestimating you,” she added with a smile.

“Oh! Oh, it’s nothing,” Ariadne smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, either way,” Fleur sighed. “You are far more than the foolish little girl I thought you, Ariadne.”

“Thanks. You-you’re cool too!” Ariadne said, shuffling on the seat. “They said you put your dragon to sleep! That’s not easy, it can take dozens of dragonhandlers just to make a dragon drowsy, but you did it all on your own!” she marvelled to a spluttering attempt at modesty from the girl.

“It  _ did _ set me on fire when it snored!” Fleur laughed, doubling over very slightly. “But you! I was watching, you know. Very clever, you were, cleverer than Viktor  _ or _ Cedric. I thought you were dead when it heard you, but no! Not many witches can kill a dragon,” she told her. “ _ And _ you’ve done that before!”

“Yeah, the Basilisk in my second year,” Ariadne admitted. “It’s where I got the plan, wish I didn’t have to kill it though,” she lamented. “Professor Hagrid really likes them, and my friend Ron, his brother apparently helped get them here. They say it’s fine, but…”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Fleur said, patting her back. “It is in the past.” The french girl frowned a little, looking behind her back into the courtyard where her friends were laughing. “Your friend, Ron? The red-haired boy? There’s something… off about him. Is he human?” Ariadne felt her face go white.

“Um… yes?” she said, feigning confusion. It wasn’t technically a lie, not until the evening of the 26th.

“Hmm. I must be imagining it. My grandmother was a Veela, you see,” Fleur explained. “I only ask because I know that Hogwarts has not got quite as… tolerant rules about mixed species students as Beauxbatons, I would be surprised.”

“Hmm! Yeah, I’ve read that, aren’t there quite a few part-Veela students, like you?” Ariadne asked. Fleur nodded.

“Not only part-Veela. A boy who left last year, he was a full-blood Veela! There were some rules on him, but god was he cute,” she laughed. “I know a Centaur girl, she is two years my younger. She took a shine to my sister, Gabrielle. You remind me of her, sometimes, you know, although she is much younger than you.” Fleur sighed, smiling. “I think there is even a lycanthrope, but who I do not know. Whoever it is, they keep it a secret, I have only heard rumours and howls in the mountains.”

“Huh…” Ariadne mused, wondering if Fleur could actually be trusted with the knowledge. “I know a werewolf, his name is Remus. Used to teach here, until last year when he got outed.”

“Mm, yes, I have heard of him. I wanted to meet him, you know, until I heard he had retired. This Moody, though, eurgh,” Fleur shuddered, as Ariadne tilted a head at her, frowning. “That eye. He can see through walls, who knows what else he can see through?” _ Oh _ … Ariadne thought, involuntarily shrinking in on herself as she confirmed he wasn’t anywhere she could sense him. Then again, she couldn’t sense through walls, or even glass. Especially given her experience of the last two weeks, that did not fill her with comfort.

“Hey, um, have you gotten anywhere with your egg?” Ariadne asked.

“Oh, no. I plan to wait until after the Ball, I need a rest,” Fleur replied. “I am curious, but we will have two months. It can wait,” she said, leaning back. “You?”

“Same,” Ariadne replied. “We have some theories, mostly based on the designs on the egg itself, but I’ll get to it later.” She had to admit, she was worried by the designs - it was clearly not meant to be a dragon egg, but rather had aquatic motifs. Water was not her friend.

“Are you looking forward to the Ball?” Fleur asked, smiling. “If you need anything, tips, help with makeup? Help with boys?” she added, sniffing in amusement. “I have had my fair share, because I am part Veela. I hear the Beauxbatons boys talking about you sometimes, ugh. Boys, why are they like this?!” she lamented, as Ariadne grimaced, nodding.

“I… I don’t know if I’m going to take a boy,” Ariadne mumbled.

“You cannot go alone, you are a Champion!” Fleur exclaimed. “Is that Ron not your boyfriend?” Ariadne shook her head. “You are very pretty, any one of them would be glad to go with you, you know.”

“I um… I don’t actually like boys,” she muttered, noting how Fleur’s ever so slight aura was feathering against her own core, along with the golden threads she’d somehow gotten used to. Fleur frowned.

“Oh, like Viktor, how he is… asexual?” Ariadne shook her head again, blushing.

“Girls,” she simply said.

“Oh… Oh! Oh, I am so sorry, Ariadne, if I have caused you any problems!” Fleur exclaimed. “I cannot fully control my aura, weak as it is.” Ariadne chuckled.

“I can er, I can see that.” Fleur laughed, before smiling evilly at her. 

“Oh, of course you can. You spend a lot of time with that girl… the sister of Ron, red hair.” Ariadne went red. “You  _ like _ her, don’t you?” Ariadne blanched and shrunk in on herself, as Fleur’s expression only became more devious and amused. “You do! You do, you like her!”

“Shut up!” Ariadne exclaimed, unable to keep a massive grin off her face. “Maybe.”

“Awwwww!” Fleur crooned, tapping at Ariadne’s shoulder with pointed fingers. “Granger has a crush!” Ariadne could only giggle slightly as she compressed into a smaller space, crossing her legs. “You should ask her to the Ball! It would be so lovely!” she urged.

“No, I-” Ariadne spluttered, her cheeks only getting even warmer somehow, her frigid ears resisting the cold. “She’s a third year, I can’t-”

“This does not matter if she is with you!” Fleur exclaimed. “Take her! Do you know if she likes girls too?” Ariadne smiled again, nodding as she touched the cord of the Basilisk fang around her neck. “Then ask! I have seen how she smiles and stares at you, I have no doubt she would say yes,” Fleur added smugly, leaning in and continuing to tap Ariadne. Ginny stared at her? She had no idea, where someone’s eyes were was always a mystery to her, and that possibility put a warmth in her chest she couldn’t describe.

“You… you-you… you think?” Ariadne asked, blinking and smiling in her flustered daze, as she could not help but imagine Ginny in her arms, flowing around in the steps of the waltz. She had to admit, the idea of the taller girl lifting her into the air was… appealing.

“Yes!” Fleur replied excitably. “Tonight! Ask her, before someone else does!”

\--

It was a fairly ordinary evening that night, as the fire crackled in the Gryffindor Common Room, and the four of them had claimed the nearest couch. Ron was lounging in a position that Ariadne thought could  _ not _ have been comfortable near the fire, while Ginny had buried herself in her sketchbook and an armchair once more, the pencil scratching across the pages rapidly as Ariadne’s heart leapt out of her chest with every scrawl.

She was going to ask. She was, she assured herself, but there were a few problems with her plan.

For one, both Ron and Hermione were there! Even knowing Hermione knew of her apparently blatant crush, she still couldn’t just ask Ginny out in front of them! No, she had to wait until both had gone, but would they even go before Ginny?

Second, she was shivering so much that she wondered what had scared her more, the dragon, or the prospect of asking Ginny to the Yule Ball.

Maybe if Ginny left first, she could pull her aside before she went to bed?  _ That would be awkward though, wouldn’t it? _ Ariadne stressed. How was she even going to say it?! Her guitar was laying on her lap as she pensively plucked at the strings randomly. She was far too stressed to play anything, and even if she did, how would she even tell  _ herself _ she wasn’t singing to Ginny? That every line of  _ Let’s Dance _ wasn’t for her, that when she sang  _ Rebel Rebel _ , she wasn’t remembering every time the girl had tapped or drummed along, Ginny’s voice joining in as the line ‘ _ hot tramp, I love you so _ ’ rang through the air?

_ Am I being melodramatic? _ she asked herself, internally shrugging as Ginny held her pencil sideways, rubbing its point along the page. 

Ariadne’s hands were shaking as she struggled to even give any attention to the Potions notes she’d taken earlier that day, before Ron yawned.

“I’m gonna go to bed, g’night guys,” he drawled, getting up reluctantly and stretching.

“G’night!” Ariadne called shakily as her anxiety only grew as Ron left for the staircase, and Hermione paused only to farewell him before she once again buried her nose in a textbook. Hermione was not leaving any time soon, she knew her sister would remain in the Common Room well past midnight reading.

She felt nauseous as she shuddered, putting her guitar down beside her and dragging herself over to sit closer to Ginny on the far end of the sofa, next to her armchair.

What if she didn’t like her? What if she didn’t want to be friends anymore, what if she was about to ruin everything? What if she made it awkward? What if-

“Gi-ggg-g-g-g-g-gi-g-g-g-g-Ginny?” Ariadne stammered quietly, her whole face slightly numb.

“Hmm?” Ginny intoned, looking up from her sketchbook with a warm smile that sent even more fear and conflicting emotion into Ariadne’s somersaulting stomach.

“Can… can-can-can-can we… can we talk?” she asked, biting her lip. Surely Ginny could tell how anxious she was?

“Yeah, sure,” Ginny replied, sliding her pencil back into her pencil case and setting the book face-down on her lap. “What’s up?”

_ Oh god… _ Ariadne thought.  _ I didn’t actually figure out what to say! _

“Um… you um… you remember the World Cup?” Ariadne asked shakily as Hermione looked up slightly. Ginny nodded. “The vv-v-v-v--vv-the-v-the-v-the- the Veela?” Hermione closed her book suddenly, not even bothering to put a bookmark in it.

“I’ve got to pee, I’ll be back,” Hermione told them woodenly, as Ariadne realized she knew what she was doing.

“What about the Veela?” Ginny asked, leaning over. “You reacted to them,” she said quietly. Ariadne smiled slightly, bile in her throat.

“So-sss-s-s-so-s-s-ss-s-s-s-ss-so-so-so did-so did-sodid -so did you,” Ariadne stammered, making Ginny draw back slightly, her magic jumping a tad under the suppression as she seemed to look away. “You like girls too?” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” Ginny replied quietly. “I… I um… I was a bit confused, for a while. But that kinda confirmed it for me, you know?” she told her. “What was that thing you said Sirius was? Bisexual? I think I’m… that.” Ariadne nodded, as Ginny smiled slightly, awkwardly. Ariadne’s heart raced as she inhaled again, feeling faint. Was she really about to do this? Was she really about to ask Ginny Weasley out?

“Gin-ginny?” Ariadne mumbled again, as the girl started to go for her book again.

“Yeah?”

“Wou-wo-w-w-would-would-would…” Ariadne took a deep breath. “Woujaliktogotobawi’me?” she asked hurriedly, slurring every single word together as she winced, facing down at her lap.

“I- I’m sorry?” Ginny spluttered, jumping slightly with her mouth hanging open a little as her magic started fluctuating wildly. Ariadne took another breath.

“Would you like to go to the Ball with me?” she asked slowly and deliberately. Ginny’s face lit up, her eyes widening as a smile filled her face, as Ariadne’s legs started prickling with pins and needles.

“I…” Ginny stammered, after a few seconds of agonizing uncertainty. “I… I’d love to,” she said softly.

Ariadne’s world exploded. Her mind was rushing at a million miles an hour as she exhaled gladly, blinking wildly. She’d said yes.

_ SHE SAID YES! _ erupted through her mind, like a trillion fireworks going off at once, euphoria rushing through her veins as she could not help but smile.

“Now what?” Ginny asked awkwardly, looking around but still smiling at least.

“Um…” Ariadne spluttered, going red. “I… I don’t know, I didn’t expect you to say yes,” she told her hurriedly. Neither of their cores had calmed down, as Ariadne’s hands shook violently, anchored onto the sofa. Ginny laughed gently, her smile only growing as Ariadne’s ears went red. She was going to go to the Yule Ball with Ginny Weasley. “W-what-what are you- what are you drawing?” she asked hesitantly.

“Hmm? Oh!” Ginny patted the armrest of the chair she was sitting in, straightening up and flipping the book back over. Ariadne nearly tripped over just stepping between the chairs as she stood, wrestling with her heartbeat as she crushed down onto the cushioned armrest and Ginny took out her dragon heart-string wand. “I uh… I sketched you. Sort of. It’s not… it’s not what actually happened, but…” she told her awkwardly, as Ariadne’s heart once again escaped her control and thumped in her ears loudly, and she could feel her pulse in her fingers. “ _ Aurum _ pencil,” Ginny whispered, a blue wave revealing an image in a gently blue glimmer.

She could even sense the shading, of a field of rocky crags, a dragon laying dead on the ground, crosses over its eyes as a woman stood over it, triumphant as she held up her wand in the air, a star bursting from it, and an egg in the nook of her other arm, Ginny’s signature in the corner and a title;  _ Ariadne Victorious _ .

The day she’d killed the dragon. Ariadne gasped, gazing internally at the shading of the stones and the scales of the dragon, its wings flopped down on the ground sadly, as the drawn version of her stood proud over her defeated enemy.

“Do you like it?” Ginny asked eagerly, smiling at her.

“Hh- I… yes!” Ariadne exclaimed, almost wordless. “It’s… this is… thank you!” she exclaimed, wishing for nothing more than to hug the girl, a wish Ginny quickly obliged as her arms wrapped around Ariadne and pulled her down. She was fairly sure she’d fall, as her butt started sliding off the arm, but she didn’t care. As soon as Ginny released her, she felt herself fall, collapsing into Ginny’s lap accidentally with a cry.

“Oh! Whoops, sorry!” Ginny exclaimed, laughing as Ariadne could not help but start giggling wildly. “There you go,” she mumbled, scooching over to let Ariadne squeeze into the truly only one-person armchair, before she set one hand to the top of the page.

With a tearing noise, Ginny began to carefully excise the drawing from her book, grimacing as it almost tore into the image. Eventually though, she’d freed it intact, and Ariadne took the drawing gladly - it would sit on her bedside table gladly, and eventually it’d sit with the painting Ginny had made for her the year before, standing on her bedroom wall at home alongside  _ And the Stars Look Very Different Today _ .

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it shall be: Ginniadne.


	127. In the Spirit of the Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collaborating with Viktor, the Grangers continue making their plans for the Yule Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this a slow burn, technically? I made it ‘canon’ that Ariadne had a crush forty chapters ago and I was hinting at it a lot longer. But yeah, here come the cuties.

_ Beep Beep. _

Ariadne shuffled slightly in bed, sniffing as she wriggled slightly under the blanket. It was warm, she didn’t want to get up as her magic sense blurred into an all-encompassing blue.

_ Beep Beep _ .

_ Hang on _ . Why was everything blue?

_ Beep Beep _ .

Ariadne’s right hand found her glasses, sitting on her nose. She’d never taken them off.

_ Beep Beep _ .

There were other colours beside her, yellow and blue with red splotches and a purple shell.

Ginny yawned.

Ginny?

_ Beep Beep _ .

“Mmm?” Ginny hummed, shaking her head and sitting up a bit more on the couch.

_ Beep Beep _ .

She was still in the Common Room! Beside her, veritably connected at the hip with her arms wrapped around her, was Ginny, squeezed beside her on the sofa.

“What the-” Ariadne spluttered, sitting up suddenly as she fiddled with the buttons on her watch to turn the alarm off. It was her six-thirty alarm, for the morning, but she wasn’t in her bed.

“Morning Ariadne,” Ginny groaned in a nasally voice as she nestled her head on Ariadne’s shoulder, blearily blinking before closing her eyes again. It was definitely her  _ blanket _ , but what was she doing curled up beside Ginny on the couch? Had she fallen asleep there? “I don’t wanna get up, too early,” she mumbled into Ariadne’s neck, as Ariadne noticed the sound of the gently crackling fireplace. Normally, that had burnt out long before morning.

Ariadne didn’t want to get up either, but no doubt Hermione would be starting to get up as well and she needed to start getting ready for class. Ariadne gently unwrapped herself from the tangle of arms and legs she and Ginny had become to groaning protest from the younger girl as Ariadne’s heart fluttered at her. Ginny was even prettier wrapped in a cozy blanket refusing to get up.

“Why do you get up so early?” Ginny groaned, shaking her head at Ariadne as she pulled at Ariadne’s arm to get her back to the couch. “No, you’re warm.”

“Gin, I have to go get dressed!” Ariadne chuckled, beaming at the adorable girl.

“You’re already dressed,” Ginny protested. She was right, she was.

“I have to go take my potions,” Ariadne suggested. Ginny slumped, making a whining noise. “And I need to pee.” The girl grumbled, curling up on the sofa and closing her eyes again with a smile. Ariadne almost tripped on the stairs as she smiled to herself, her face ever so slightly warm as she internally gazed at Ginny from the the balcony. She looked so peaceful, curled up with her head on the armrest, her hair all a mess as it dangled off her. Ariadne stretched the arm Ginny had been effectively lying on all night, yawning as she rubbed her eyes under her glasses and started up the stairs.

It was definitely her own blanket, that much was clear as Ariadne sat down on her bed to find that while it had been made, it was lacking one. As usual, the small glass bottles stood on her bedside table, probably dropped off by Dobby who she made a mental note to thank, and she took each one in succession as usual.

“Sleep well?” Hermione asked sweetly, a knowing smile on her face as she sat down on the bed beside Ariadne, who nodded and blushed as Hermione patted her shoulder awkwardly. “I came down to see where you were and… well I didn’t want to wake you up so I put some more firewood on and gave you a blanket so you’d stay warm.”

“She…” Ariadne mumbled, smiling bashfully and facing away. “She said yes.”

“You’re going to the Ball together?” Hermione gasped. “ _ Finally _ ,” she added, beaming at her sister before standing up and veritably skipping her way back to her own bed to get dressed, flapping her hands together joyfully. Ariadne smiled to herself.

It had only really just started to set in. Ginny had said yes. They’d be going to the Yule Ball together, and they’d be dancing together in only a few weeks. Their first date. Were they dating, girlfriends? Ariadne supposed they hadn’t actually talked about it, but there’d been no complaints about falling asleep aside one another - Ginny’s only complaint had been Ariadne’s departure. But would it be awkward to ask if they were on the same page? She didn’t know how to broach that.

_ What should I get her for Christmas? _ Ariadne wondered, as the animated model of the Welsh Green curled down the four poster bed and onto her bedside table. Hogwarts was already becoming well decorated for the holiday season, and classes would be ending that week and resuming again in January. She couldn’t just get a necklace, Ginny had already done that and she liked having matching ones. Perhaps a bracelet, to go on her other arm? Resolving to continue thinking about it, Ariadne went to go back downstairs again, to find Ginny standing in the doorway a few inches taller than her, wrapped in the blanket.

“Oh! Hey,” Ginny exclaimed, her magic buzzing as she smiled. “I think this is yours,” she said, tilting her head to the blanket she was wrapped in, spinning it off herself with a bob and handing the bundle to Ariadne.

“Um, yeah,” Ariadne stammered, taking it in both arms, unable to help but notice Ginny’s fingers run down her arm inadvertently. “I.. I’ll just-” she said, tilting her head to her bed.

“Yeah. I should um, I should go and get my books,” Ginny said. Ariadne awkwardly tilted sideways, smiling as the space turned a little awkward. “See ya soon.”

“S-Sense you,” Ariadne replied quickly as Ginny hesitantly stepped back and down the stairs again, and Ariadne felt her ears go hot as she carried the still-warm blanket back to her bed and set it down in a heap. With butterflies battering her stomach like an internal hurricane, she would have skipped downstairs to wait for her friends, if only she didn’t have to be slightly careful with the stairs themselves. Eventually though, she found herself back on the sofa she’d slept on that morning, humming to herself joyfully.

“You’re downright cheerful, what’s gotten into you?” Ron asked quizzically as he tumbled down the stairs into the Common Room and crashed down onto the sofa in front of her. “Wait, you never leave your guitar out,” he muttered, catching it as it almost fell from where it was. Ariadne smiled and reached out for it, before sliding it back into its case.

“Morning Ron,” Ariadne said happily. “Aren’t I allowed to be happy?” she chuckled.

“‘Course you’re  _ allowed _ , you just haven’t been for a while. It’s weird,” Ron protested.

“And what are you, my therapist?” Ariadne laughed, snorting at him.

“You probably need one, but I’d be a crap therapist,” Ron told her. “I’d make a great therapy  _ dog  _ though,” he whispered as Hermione and Ginny appeared in the archway and made their way over with bags full of books, and Ariadne could not help but look up. “Hey ‘Mione!”

“Good morning, Ron. I’m sure you of all people are hungry, so let’s go,” she replied cheerfully, prompting Ariadne up. As the four stepped over the threshold, and Ariadne shivered under her cloak, her breath hitched in her throat as Ginny’s fingers wormed into her own. Ginny jumped a little as Ariadne reacted, her eyes a question even to the pulses of magic that shot out from the shorter girl’s glasses.

With an affirming squeeze to Ginny’s hand, her magical core bubbling happily alongside her date’s, it was all Ariadne could do to not skip through the corridors in joy.

\--

“Good thing I dropped Astronomy, eh?” Ron joked as Ariadne prompted Hermione with the flash cards she had made. “ _ Ron’s not in class tonight because he’s not feeling so well, oh what’s that? We’re studying the moon cycle? _ ” he laughed.

“You’d be great, you’ve got first hand experience howling at the moon,” Ariadne chuckled. They had a free period that morning before a shared Potions lab with the sixth years, and they’d decided to spend it getting some fresh air - it was apparently overcast, but not likely to rain, so they were lounging on a large rock by the lake, a picnic basket underneath them as Hermione kept her shoes off it. Ginny, however, had had to go to Charms, to Ariadne’s lament.

“Pfff,” Ron snorted. “I’ve never actually done that,” he said, making a face.

“What?” Ariadne exclaimed. “And you call yourself a werewolf,” she added sarcastically as Hermione started giggling.

“It’s a bit cliche, innit?” Ron replied. “Awooo.” He sighed. “Think I’ll go for a walk,” he said, stretching his arms. “Or a quick run. Yeah actually, a run,” he nodded, as Hermione stared at him quizzically.

“Ronald Weasley going for a run? We must be in an alternate universe,” Hermione mused as Ron unlaced his shoes. “What are you-”

“Taking my shoes off, aren’t I? They ain’t good for running, mind keeping an eye on ‘em for me?” he replied matter-of-factly as he loosened his tie and took off his cloak. “You’ve  _ no idea _ how boring normal legs are.” With that, he jogged off down the stony beach, his feet bare.

“Huh…” Hermione muttered, with a surprised expression as Ariadne noticed another magical core striding down the beach, pulling his knees up as he walked - Viktor Krum. She waved, noticing he was only wearing trousers and a singlet. Raising a hand, Viktor waved his arms in a flexing motion as he changed course to approach.

“Hey Viktor!” Ariadne called. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, concerned. Krum started laughing.

“You think it is cold here? Durmstrang is in the arctic circle!” Viktor exclaimed jovially, as he stepped over and sat down beside Hermione where Ron had sat. “Exercising, you should too you know. Ronald has a head start!” he laughed, pointing at the boy who’d covered really quite a considerable amount of ground in the twenty seconds or so he’d been running. “Woah, he is fast, I thought he had a bad back!”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Ariadne replied, bundling up her cloak. “How’re you doing?”

“Not so bad. Having some trouble with the egg though, the locking mechanism is jammed after the Short-Snout,” Viktor replied. “But I am told this has saved me an earache,” he chuckled. “Yourself?”

“Taking a break,” Ariadne replied, nodding. “I’ll get to the egg after the Ball, but we have some ideas,” she told him, to nodding approval.

“Yes, you deserve one,” he agreed. “This is… this is what I came to talk about, actually,” he said, crossing his legs on the rock as he rubbed his arms.

“The egg?” Hermione asked, frowning.

“No, no. The Yule Ball,” Viktor clarified. “I er… Ariadne, would you care to go to the Ball with me?” he asked, extending a hand fancifully, as Ariadne drew back a little, shocked. Viktor Krum wanted to go to the dance with her?

“I uh…” she spluttered, face going blank from shock. “I.. I’ve-I’ve-I’ve-I’ve already-I’ve already-”

“Oh, no bother, if you already have a date,” Viktor said pleasantly, waving his hand. “You are a wonderful young woman, and I simply thought it would… serve the spirit of the Tournament, you see? Purely platonic. We are two boys and two girls, it would be an excellent example of international magical cooperation.” Ariadne nodded. Pragmatic, but she had to admit it had value even if she’d already asked Ginny.

“That makes sense,” Hermione said. “However, she already asked someone,” she added knowingly, with a smile.

“Oh good on you, good on you. Whoever he is, he is lucky,” Viktor congratulated her, before frowning slightly.  _ She _ , Ariadne thought. “You know what? Hermione?”

“Hmm?” Hermione intoned, setting her book down.

“Would  _ you _ care to go to the Ball with me?” he asked, once more extending his hand as Hermione involuntarily gaped at him. “It would follow the same sentiment, hmm, you are her sister,” he explained.

“I…” Hermione spluttered. “I suck at dancing!” she exclaimed, even as she wriggled her feet excitedly.

“Not a worry,” Krum replied, smiling warmly. “You are also a wonderful young woman, I think often in this one’s shadow but you are just as great. It would be my honour,” he added, as Hermione spluttered a little.

“I… yes,” Hermione said, taking his hand shakily. “I wanted to go with… um.. But he has chronic pain problems, we don’t know if he’s even going so…” Viktor smiled.

“Of course…” he hummed. “Good luck for me then, ha!” he added to Ariadne’s mirth as Ron turned around and began running back, well down the beach by that point.

“When one door closes,” Hermione mumbled, shrugging, before frowning as if she didn’t know what to say. “What… what should I wear?” she asked. “I’ve never… we never really…” They’d never been to a school dance, and even during primary school neither of them had ever been the kids people went with - she and Ariadne were the quiet kids who’d sit in the corner of the tacky disco after trying and failing to socialize and drink way too much free juice.

“I don’t know,” Krum replied with an amusing look. “I don’t know how girls’ clothes work. A dress, I would guess? Hah,  _ a dress I would guess _ ,” he suggested, before jumping as Ariadne’s watch beeped.

“Um, we-w-w-w-w-we-we-we should get going,” Ariadne said gently, packing up her book and handing Hermione back her flash cards. “The potions lab is in twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Hermione said, starting to pack up as well. “Um, what will you be wearing, Viktor? So I can match it,” she asked as Viktor stood up.

“Oh, just the Durmstrang dress robes. I will show you later, is that all right?” Hermione nodded. “All right, have a good time!” he called, beginning his jog along the beach again and offering a high five to Ron as he went past, a loud slap clattering through the air. “Ow! You are stronger than you look!” he exclaimed in surprise, shaking his hand violently as Ron laughed, backing up to the girls.

“Hey Ron,” Ariadne said, rolling up the picnic blanket. “Don’t worry, he didn’t steal your shoes or anything.”

“That’s not fair!” Hermione exclaimed, pointing at him. “You’re not even puffed!” Indeed she was right, the boy wasn’t even breathing heavily, despite having run quite a distance in an incredibly short period of time. Ron shrugged.

“Human legs are useless,” he moaned, leaning down to tie his shoes up again. “It’s more fun to run as Red, it’s just everything that comes with him that sucks,” he lamented.

“Making the most of it?” Ariadne asked.

“S’pose,” Ron grumbled. “Might as well if I gotta endure a week of feeling like crap every time..” Ariadne smiled slyly, and picked up a stick and waved it around a bit. “Don’t you dare, blindey.” Ariadne threw the stick away into the woods, and watched as Ron instinctively followed it in his gaze as Hermione gaped at him. “I’m not fetching it. I’m not,” Ron insisted, laughing.

“B… but you want to!” Ariadne taunted, as Ron nodded wryly.

“Shut up,” he laughed as Ariadne poked her tongue out at him. “Come on, let’s go,” Ron said, standing up after doing up his other shoe and shaking his head at her. 

\--

“What colour’s that gone?” Ariadne asked, holding up a beaker for Ron. Most other elements of Potions she’d mastered thanks to recognizing the magical colours of potions, but when trying to complete an  _ analysis _ exercise, the reagents she was required to use to actually pass the exercise - despite being able to  _ clearly _ see it was a laughing potion - changed colour chemically, not magically. Ron had wondered whether drinking the potion and writing down what happened would count as analyzing the potion and showing your working, but Hermione had quickly shot that idea down.

“Hmm?” Ron hummed, turning around. “Oh, blue.” As expected. “That’s mad, at this rate you two will be the only ones in our year  _ without  _ dates,” he marvelled, tilting his head back at the table behind them where at least six requests to dance had been made and accepted in the last twenty minutes alone, before earning a slap on the back of the head from Professor Snape, prowling behind him. “Well, you, me and Neville, but I don’t count,” he added.

“It might interest you to know that Neville has already asked Parvati,” Hermione told him, as Ariadne noted down the colour changes in the reagents to add to her conclusion, and as, down the way, Fred and George fiddled with a bunsen burner and chucked in some powder that vanished from Ariadne’s magic sense as soon as it hit where the flame probably was. She had thought Fred was writing down his results before he surreptitiously passed Ron the paper. Hermione leaned her head to see what was written on it, as Ron mouthed something at Fred. Fred frowned at him, and Ron traced a circle in the air just above the table with his finger, before mouthing something else.

Ariadne watched, confused, as Fred balled up another piece of paper and threw it at Angelina’s shoulder - how Snape hadn’t noticed, as he stood directly behind Angelina, Ariadne didn’t know - before mouthing something at her as she reacted, mimicking dancing. Angelina nodded, as Fred winked at Ron before pointing at the Grangers.

“You two’d better get a move on, or neither of you will have dates,” Ron mumbled. “She’s into girls so I’d ask you, if I was going, but..” he added, leaning to Hermione.

“Both of us have dates already,” Hermione whispered, cutting him off without looking up from her book. Ron jumped, staring at her.

“Wha’?” he mumbled, before earning a whack on the back of the head from a book Snape was holding. “When did that happen?”

“In the last twenty-four hours, actually,” Hermione replied, almost laughing. “Anyway, I’m done. See you at lunch,” she added, standing up and handing Snape her book, before leaving the study hall quickly - presumably to see if she could find Viktor; she had never liked uncertain plans, and as such Ariadne thought she’d probably try to get the information she needed as quickly as possible.

“She’s joking, right?” Ron asked Ariadne. “I’da noticed, wouldn’t I?”

“Not even slightly,” Ariadne replied, finishing up her paragraph. “I helped set-set-setsetset-set them up, actually.”

“Wait, who’s she going with then? And who are  _ you _ going with?!” he asked as Ariadne closed her book. “ _ That _ was why you were all happy this morning!”

“Not telling,” Ariadne said sweetly, smiling smugly as she too handed Snape her conclusions and picked her bag up from behind her seat. “It’s a surprise,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him and pulling her bag onto her shoulder and following Hermione from the hall, as Ron frowned to himself in bewilderment before he went back to his work and sniffed the potion he was analyzing. He seemed to regret it a split second later as he almost spilled it in revulsion. Whether she would help Hermione find Viktor, or simply wait in the Great Hall to hang out with Ginny over lunch, she would have to decide quickly.

She chose the Hall.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, Ariadne is REALLY short. Ginny is *compared to everyone else* short, but Ariadne is the short gal in this ship.


	128. And I Love Your Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor McGonagall takes Ariadne and Ginny to go get something to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me using song lyrics as chapter titles? Don’t know what you mean, cough cough. We got a bit delayed by a few things, whoops.

With the Yule Ball in just under two weeks as Saturday rolled around, Ariadne would have been pacing anxiously if she weren’t sitting at lunch beside Ginny, magical holographic snow drifting down from the fluorescent ceiling of the Great Hall as the castle shivered in the pattering of flakes that smothered the grounds. Down the way a bit, Ron was wolfing down an impressive amount of steak and buttered potatoes as he and Hermione explained SPEER to the twins and Alicia, while Ariadne had a few pages of notes from Care of Magical Creatures splayed out beside her.

“Ooo,” Ginny said, leaning into the newspaper she’d been idly reading. “ _ Aurum _ ink. Quality Quidditch Supplies is running a Christmas sale, only forty Galleons for a 1992 Nimbus Cloudrunner,” she told Ariadne with a flare of magic, holding the then glimmering paper over with a smile. “Must still be a few they never sold, heh,” she chuckled.

“Wasn’t a very proud period in Nimbus’ history, was it?” Ariadne joked, grinning as Ginny shook her head. “Didn’t a few of those Cloudrunners spontaneously snap mid-flight? I’m surprised there are many-any that weren’t disenchanted and pulped.” Nimbus hadn’t been as successful a company in the ‘90s, having made some strange design choices - luckily for her, they’d shifted back to a more stable model by the time the 2000 and 2001 models had been released. Ariadne perused the rest of the ad curiously - a Cleansweep Eight was eighty galleons, an Air Wave Gold going for the same price. There were also a number of world-class racing brooms advertised, but all were listed in the thousands of galleons.

“What on earth- I don’t know if you can sense this picture, but where the hell are you supposed to put your hands?!” Ginny exclaimed, pointing at an image marked  _ Transylvanian Barb _ . “ _ Barb _ is right, the front’s all spikey!”

“N-n-n-not-not very ergonomic,” Ariadne agreed, although she couldn’t sense the probably slightly animated image.

“Not at all!” Ginny replied. “Still, looks pretty cool though.”  _ I wonder… _ Ariadne thought. A Cleansweep Nine was getting into the very pricey ranges of one hundred galleons, but maybe if she talked with Sirius they could both collaboratively pay for one for Ginny.  _ It’d be a damn sight better than that Swiftstick _ , she thought, remembering the decades-old broom she’d borrowed for their little home game when she’d been between brooms as she finished a sandwich and put a few knuts on the plate for whichever elf had made her food - she’d asked Dobby, and while the elves knew they’d have to hide the meager income they were getting from whoever in SPEER could afford to, they appreciated the tips. They were apparently sharing it amongst the entire group, and Ariadne wished she could give them more but knew she would run out of pocket money far too quickly if she did.  _ What’s the point of being the rich kid if you can’t be generous? _ Ariadne thought. With a nauseating flash, the plate and the offered coins disappeared.

“There’s McGonagall,” Ariadne said, sitting up straight as the Professor appeared in the doorway, before she stood up and pulled her bag onto her shoulder. Ginny quickly followed as Ariadne strode purposefully to Professor McGonagall, meeting her halfway.

“Ah, Miss Granger. I presume you remembered?” McGonagall asked, with a nod from Ariadne. “Excellent, shall we get moving? Much as I don’t wish to put a rush on this, I must admit to a full schedule. So, who is he, who are you taking?” McGonagall asked. Ariadne smiled, tilting her head to the girl standing beside her as their hands filtered together. 

“Ginny,” Ariadne replied anxiously, smiling awkwardly.

“You are taking a girl?” Professor McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrows. “Well, if you’re sure. Be aware, Miss Granger, there are many who will see that as controversial to say the least,” she added. Ariadne nodded. “All right. Miss Weasley, you are aware that yourself and Miss Granger will be among the eight leaders of the first dance? You’ll be all right with being in the spotlight?” she asked.

“Leaders?” Ginny asked, frowning. With a jolt, Ariadne realized she’d never told her.

“It is traditional that the three Champions, well in this case four, are the first to dance,” McGonagall explained. “Will you be comfortable with that?” Ginny thought for a moment, looking to Ariadne and then turned back to McGonagall.

“Yeah, sure. Fuck it,” Ginny shrugged, to a stern look from the Professor. “Frick. Frick it,” she amended, drawing back a little.

“Your older brothers have been a poor influence, one point from Gryffindor,” McGonagall simply tutted, before smiling warmly. “Shall we?” she asked, as Hermione suddenly stood up while the pair happily followed Professor McGonagall from the Hall.

“No, no! I’m getting your christmas present, you’re not coming,” Hermione protested to a reluctantly remaining Ron before she ran to catch up with the three. “‘Adne, wait!” she called, almost immediately puffed as she caught up.

“Ah, Miss Granger. Will you be joining us?” Professor McGonagall asked, turning to see her. Hermione nodded.

“I uh… I… hooo… Have some things I need to get, so I thought I should tag along,” Hermione explained, catching her breath.

“You’re very welcome to,” Professor McGonagall told her. “But we really must hurry, else the path may well and truly be buried in all this,” she added, pointing to the flakes of snow that descended gracefully around them as they stepped out into the courtyard toward the path to Hogsmeade village, casting strange shadows onto the castle walls.

“Whatcha getting?” Ginny asked curiously as they walked.

“Some things for Ron,” Hermione replied as she rubbed her hands together through her fluffy gloves. “Ever since June he’s been chewing on things a lot, his fingernails mostly, so I’m going to see if I can find something that’s specifically designed to be chewed on.”

“You’re getting him a chew toy?” Ginny laughed. “Maybe look in the pet shop,” she told her.

“I am not!- Okay fine, I guess chew toy works,” Hermione spluttered indignantly. “But I don’t think he’d exactly appreciate a dog toy. I just want to get him something before he runs out of pencils and starts chewing on his  _ wand _ , something he can use as a discreet alternative. And a cookbook, if I can find one.”

“Since June? A manifestation of his lycanthropy?” Professor McGonagall asked quizzically. “I don’t believe I ever noticed Professor Lupin compulsively chewing on his belongings?”

“He’s a lot more healthy than Mister Lupin, Professor,” Hermione explained. “I think he experiences a lot more carry-over of various traits.”

“Ah. Perhaps you should buy him a scratching post,” Professor McGonagall joked, before frowning slightly as she walked, clearing snow with her feet. “Miss Granger, if you don’t mind my asking, how is Mister Weasley? He hasn’t come to speak with me about his condition, but I cannot assume he is coping and if you have any insight into his mental state I would appreciate the information.”

“He’s making-mye-making-making-making the most of it,” Ariadne replied. “I think he’s actually glad to be able to get out of the Yule Ball,” she chuckled, her words continuing to slur together unwittingly. Hermione nodded.

“He  _ is _ worried by Rita Skeeter though, his eyes flashed in that photo she took. Lucky Ariadne doesn’t have pupils or everyone would have noticed,” she added, anxiously flitting her hands about her pockets and looking around. McGonagall nodded understandingly.

“Oh dear. Yes, I would keep her away from him if I were you,” she replied as they walked past the first building in Hogsmeade and an unspoken  _ stop talking about Ron _ flitted between them.

“See you!” Hermione called as she split off from them toward the southern end of the town, while Professor McGonagall led the two younger girls further in to the main square.

“Where are we going, Professor?” Ginny asked confusedly as McGonagall walked straight past Gladrags, the shop Ariadne too had presumed they’d be giving their patronage.

“Venmerria’s Venerable Vestments,” Professor McGonagall replied, as Ginny gaped in unison with Ariadne, her mouth immediately going chilly in the cold. Venmerria’s was the most expensive boutique Ariadne had ever encountered, more expensive than even Twilfitt and Tattings in Diagon Alley, and from what she’d heard, the dresses and suits one could acquire there were accordingly beautiful. She’d never actually entered the store, only read and heard of it.

“Woah…” Ginny marvelled as they stepped over the threshold to the twinkle of a gentle bell above the door, the interior space lined with wide aisles and racks of beautiful gowns, dresses, coats and suits, a wide range of which were enchanted. Professor McGonagall smiled and turned to them, leaning down.

“Now. No casting that spell of yours on the labels, Ariadne, don’t worry about the price. It’s on Hogwarts, and trust me when I say that had I had this opportunity as a girl of your age, I would have exploited it mercilessly,” she said warmly. “Oh yes,” Professor McGonagall added, clearly seeing Ariadne’s amazed expression. Did she seriously mean that she had full reign to pick out  _ anything _ out of Venmerria’s stock?! Clearly having the same thought, Ginny gasped and grabbed Ariadne by the arm before veritably dragging her into a deluge of fabric and skirts. Professor McGonagall smiled warmly as the pair marvelled at the dresses that hung upon the racks, beautifully flowing gowns ranging to more complicated strappy things, petticoats and blouses.

There was one slight problem. Ariadne was tiny. Four feet eleven inches at most, to be specific, and that included her shoes. Meanwhile, the vast majority of dresses in the store, it seemed, were designed with giraffes in mind, for even the elements that were not supposed to trail on the ground would have been pooling around her feet had she actually worn one. Anything too long would be an immense tripping hazard, and Ariadne struggled to find anything in the aisle they stood in that wouldn’t, or indeed wasn’t designed to.

“Ladies, can I help you at all?” An elderly woman asked, stepping in behind them courteously. She wore elaborate robes that trailed on the floor behind her, or at least almost, if it weren’t for the slight enchantment Ariadne could sense lining its threads that appeared to be hovering it about a centimetre above the ground.

“Ah, Madam Venmerria,” Professor McGonagall said, raising a hand.

“Professor McGonagall! Oh, how can I help?” Venmerria asked sweetly, taking her hand.

“I believe you may recognize our young Miss Granger here, from the paper? With the Yule Ball fast approaching, we are here to purchase something for her and her partner here, Miss Weasley, to wear. After all, they will be representing Hogwarts on an international stage, I would not trust anyone else with their fashion,” Professor McGonagall replied, pointing her over.

“Oh, of course! I thought you looked familiar. I presume Hogwarts is footing the bill? Otherwise I daresay it may well exceed their budget,” Venmerria told her, to a nod from McGonagall. “Well then, let’s see what we’re working with, shall we? Everything here is enchanted to fit no matter who wears it, but some proportions can be rather rigid so it’s best to know what would suit best. Would you mind taking off your cloak and jumper, Miss Granger?” Ariadne spluttered a bit, hurriedly undoing her cloak and shivering a little as she took her jumper off and handed them to Professor McGonagall. “All right.” With that, the woman took out an enchanted measuring tape and looped it around her waist, tugging it tight and tracing the set of numbers into the air with her wand and labelled it  _ waist _ . Next, she pulled the tape up a ways, and Ariadne blushed as the tape measure went taut over the widest point of her bra and Venmerria labelled the next measurement  _ bust _ . She was pleasantly surprised to notice that her chest obscured some of the tape measure the next time, labelled  _ underbust _ . Finally, the elderly woman measured her hips and shoulders, before waving her wand and bringing about what could only be considered a hologram of her approximate figure, as Ginny awkwardly looked away.

“Hmm…” Venmerria hummed before patting Ariadne’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back with a few dresses for you to try that should suit your figure perfectly,” she told her, hovering the hologram away as she searched, and Ariadne could not help but smile at the gentle curve it held as it represented her body, almost like a mannequin.

“While we wait, Miss Weasley, does anything here catch  _ your _ eye?” Professor McGonagall asked Ginny, who made a curious face and began looking around. Ariadne followed her about as the girl flitted between racks, occasionally pulling out dresses and holding them against herself. Most were a little too tall, Ariadne may have been shorter but Ginny wasn’t tall herself by any means, but a few were short enough that Ginny turned around to show Ariadne.

“What do you think?” Ginny asked, smiling as she held a long flowing dress before herself, which seemed to have multiple layers to the skirt that fell before flaring out nearer the bottom after starting at a very high waist, and shoulders that would fall in a shell-like fashion about her upper arms.

“It… it’s beautiful!” Ariadne gasped, gaping at her as she flitted it about to demonstrate how the skirt behaved.

“I might try this on?” Ginny said questioningly, giving McGonagall a look, who nodded. “All right, I’ll be back!” Ginny exclaimed, hurrying off to the changing rooms as Ariadne smiled lovingly after her, as Venmerria shuffled around the corner with a dress.

“Unfortunately you are a little too short for most of the suitable dresses, however I believe you may like this one,” she called, holding up a dress adorned with a bow and a very flared-out skirt, joined on the hanger by a blouse. “Oh, is the redhead trying something on?”

“Yes, the little blue one that was over here,” McGonagall replied, to a nod from the elderly matron.

“Ah, of course. As I recall, it should suit her nicely. Now, Miss Granger. The bows self-tie once you’ve put the dress and blouse on, so don’t worry about that. And I have here a petticoat to keep it in shape,” Venmerria said, prompting Ariadne over to the changing rooms.

“What colour is it?” Ariadne asked eagerly, taking the coat hanger gingerly.

“Red and black with gold floral accents. I thought it appropriate given your House,” Venmerria replied, ushering her into the cubicle and patting her shoulder gently. Ariadne carefully closed the door behind her, and set the various garments upon the hooks to the side and went about unbundling herself from the warm clothes she’d put on for the chilly day. The store was pleasantly warm, and so she at least wouldn’t be freezing as she stood in her thick stockings with fluffy socks atop and the plain undershirt she’d been wearing. She took her shoes off as well, not wanting to get dirt and snow all over the dress as she put the blouse on, treating it like a prized vase as the shrugged the delicate material over her shoulders and carefully buttoned up the slightly baggy sleeves that flared out a bit over her wrists. As she buttoned it up, the glowing ribbon about the collar animated and tied itself into a perfectly symmetrical bow about her neck, before she stepped into the dress. The flared skirt fell to just at the middle of her calves, and its own bow tied itself up about her waist as she carefully tugged the straps onto her shoulders, bringing it almost tight around her as it magically adjusted itself to her proportions with a glare of colour. Slipping into the petticoat, Ariadne stepped out of the changing room with a smile, to find Ginny standing right beside her.

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” Ginny exclaimed, marvelling at Ariadne as Ariadne’s mouth fell open. With her hands behind her back, Ginny’s slim frame was adorned in a beautifully flowing dress that almost floated around her feet with twinkles of magic, the skirt starting just under the ever so slight puff of her chest.

“That’s b… that’s… that’s beautiful, Ginny,” Ariadne whispered in awe, as Ginny twirled around ever so slightly and the gossamer layers wafted around her ankles as Ariadne realized she was standing maybe an inch taller than she usually did, as subtly raised heels adorned her feet.

“Isn’t it? What do you think, Professor?” Ginny asked, turning to her expectantly, as the woman gave them a curious look.

“I think you both look lovely, although… it is a bit of a childish appearance,” Professor McGonagall suggested politely.

“Isn’t that a good thing, Professor?” Ariadne asked. McGonagall tilted her head, clearly expecting an explanation. “I mean… we  _ are _ kids. I’m too-I’m too-I’m to-too-too young to be in the Tournament, isn’t it fitting that I point that out?” Ariadne explained, still internally gazing at Ginny and the wafting fabric about her legs.

“Perhaps it is,” McGonagall conceded. “I believe I would be glad to see the pair of you wearing these to the Yule Ball,” she smiled, to the girls’ joy. Madam Venmerria stepped forward slightly, holding her wand.

“Before you decide, however, if you don’t mind me trying something…” Venmerria said, flicking her wand at Ginny and encasing the dress in an orange light. “I do believe purple would go very well with your hair, young lady, wouldn’t you agree Minerva?” she asked, as Ginny’s breath caught and she gasped at it.

“What do you think, Miss Weasley?” McGonagall said, passing the responsibility on.

“I love it!” Ginny exclaimed, beaming at the dress as she turned to what must have been a mirror behind her.

“All right then, so are we settled on those dresses? Would you care to try on some shoes, perhaps some heels?” Venmerria asked, shuffling to Ariadne. Eventually, Ariadne settled on a pair of tidy flats, preferring to let Ginny remain taller than her, before McGonagall simply told Venmerria to put the costs on Hogwarts’ tab and the three departed Venmerria’s Venerable Vestments with a warmth in their chest, boxes in their arms and satisfaction in their hearts as they met back up with Hermione. Her hunt for chew toys had yielded nothing suitable for their werewolf friend, however a cookbook and her own box which allegedly contained the dress she’d purchased from Gladrags for the Yule ball did accompany her as she bobbed up the main street of Hogsmeade to reconvene with the once more bundled up Ariadne and Ginny.

All that was left was to actually make sure Ariadne could dance.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I ran outta spoons by the end there, whoops.


	129. The Yule Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve finally comes, and with it, the Yule Ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the Cute Shit™ continues.

“Thanks Sally-Anne!” Ariadne called as she caught the bottle of SleekEazy that had been tossed to her, before carefully letting a tiny amount dribble onto her hairbrush. She wasn’t going for her usual smooth-haired appearance she’d employed for her early interviews with Skeeter, but instead just trying to bring it under control a little so it would hang in more uniform curls around her head rather than its more conventional messy tangle. She wasn’t sure if she liked how short it was after the haircut she’d had to pay far more than she’d wanted to for in Hogsmeade, but the ragged remains of the Welsh Green’s handiwork would not have done.

The girls’ dormitories were a chaotic tumble of makeup, hair work, dresses hanging on hangers and last-minute adjustments as everyone had spent the last hour or more getting ready for the Yule Ball. A lot of Ariadne’s preparation had been performed by those around her, Lavender graciously doing her makeup for her as Hermione had busied herself casting a number of spells on her hair to bring it into a complicated setup above her head as she sat, partially dressed in little more than shorts and a bra, on the end of her bed with a conjured mirror hanging in the air in front of her. Cosmetics had never been Hermione’s forte, but it had been the first time she and her sister had patronized the ‘magazines’ section of the Library for whatever spells were recommended.

Surprisingly, even Ron had been curious about some of the simpler ones - for the last several days, Ron had adorned himself with a small number of simple glamours, which apparently made him look a little less sick - one of the more prominent ones in Ariadne’s magic sense seemed to be negating his allegedly dark under-eye bags, and another was making his cheeks a bit less pallid. Ironically, he seemed to be the only boy in Gryffindor putting in much effort to his appearance, at least he had been when Ariadne had left him in the Common Room, except perhaps for Neville who had at least alluded to the necessity of getting ready even if he hadn’t gotten up from the sofa.

“ _ Pulverio Rubida _ ,” Ariadne muttered, twisting her wand at her face and adorning her eyelids with some subtle red eyeshadow to accompany the black eyeliner Lavender had painstakingly applied to them. With all of that done, she stepped behind her curtain and regarded the flared dress that hung upon a hanger, butterflies assaulting her stomach. She’d be damned if she disappointed Ginny Weasley, she thought, as she let the bows adjust themselves about her and buttoned up the sleeves of the blouse, before she stepped out again. “How do I look?” she asked Hermione, who’d stood up and was casting a stabilization spell on the short-heeled shoes she’d bought.

“Beautiful!” Hermione exclaimed, as most everyone in the dorm turned to face her. “Ginny will love you,” she added, smirking slightly as Ariadne felt herself blush under the makeup.

“I dunno about my hair,” Ariadne mumbled, fiddling with it.

“Do you want it longer?” Kellah asked from across the room, peeking out from behind the heater. “You can make it longer, you know,” she added, as Ariadne frowned incredulously at her.

“I… I can what?!” she exclaimed. “Are there hair spells?!”

“Yes!” Sally-Anne exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Didn’t you know that?”

“You mean-you mean I-I didn’t have to spend three galleons on a haircut?” Ariadne spluttered, as Sally-Anne and Lavender snorted and Hermione flitted behind her own curtain to put her own dress on.

“No! God no, come here,” Lavender said, beckoning her over and plucking her wand off her bedside table. “Want it longer?” she asked, as she came to stand behind Ariadne with the wand over her head. Ariadne nodded. “Okay, tell me when.  _ Crescere Capilla _ .”

Ariadne grimaced as perhaps the strangest thing she’d ever felt accompanied the wave of green light that was projected over her scalp, the hair quite literally growing out before she prompted Lavender to stop it by the time it reached past her shoulders again.

“I’ll remember that one,” Ariadne muttered, patting at the fresh curls that needed taming. “Thanks Lavender!”

“No problem,” Lavender replied, smiling and going back to her own preparation as she feathered a mascara wand across her eyelashes.

“You know, it’s not just hair you can do that to,” Sally-Anne said, smirking. “I’m sure you can work out what  _ Insurgo Mamilla _ does.” Ariadne thought for a moment, before going purple as Sally-Anne laughed at her comprehension of the butchered Latin. “It isn’t permanent, so it’s pretty much just padding your bra. I thought you of all people would know that one,” she said bemusedly. Ariadne had to admit she was tempted, but she didn’t want to be messing with the proportions of her own body - it wasn’t as if she was  _ that _ far behind her peers, thanks to the temporal shenanigans of her third year. 

“Oh leave her alone,” Parvati said reproachfully as she put on a pair of rather large dangling earrings. “She’s pretty the way she is,” she added, before Hermione’s curtain clattered open and her sister stepped out with the click of her heels on the wooden floor. Adorning her frame was a dress not dissimilar to Ariadne’s in cut, but instead of the square neckline and thin straps, it sported a rounded neckline about an inch under her collarbone and floppy shoulders, the skirt flowing down to just above her ankles, gentle ruffles wafting in the air ever so slightly. Instead of a bow at the waist, it simply gently hugged Hermione’s frame, as she threatened to fall off-balance if it weren’t for the spell she’d placed on the heels.

“Oh wow!” Kellah said, stepping out in her own long dress. “That’s lovely, Hermione! Who’re you going with?” Hermione’s teetering uncertainty became a toothy smile as she beamed at Kellah.

“You’ll see,” Hermione simply said. “Come on, ‘Adne. Let’s not keep them waiting, it’d be a  _ tragedy  _ if we were late,” she said sweetly, smiling as she led Ariadne out of the dorm and down the stairs, Ariadne’s stomach bristling with anxiety as she wished she’d eaten more. Or less? Regardless, Ariadne found her breath in her chest as the pair stepped into the Common Room to find Ron sitting on the furthest sofa from the fire, still in his casual clothes, while Ginny stood near him. Ariadne’s mouth fell open as she took her date in; Ginny’s hair was partially braided down her back in four complicated-looking braids starting at her crown and merging at the back of her head over the rest of her hair, and the girl gasped as Ariadne stepped into the space, Ron twisting to see as his ears glowed orange with the self-inflicted sensory jinx.

“Oh my god!” Ginny exclaimed. “Ariadne, you look wonderful!” she cried, looking her up and down as Ron smiled at them all.

“Woah!” Ron called. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair this tidy, Hermione!” he added, twinkles of magic adorning his face. “Good thing I’m not going, you’re all bloody beautiful, I’d be an eyesore!”

“That robe your mother sent was perfectly fine, Ronald. In fact, I heard there’ll be a photo booth later, so maybe we can drag you down to that if you’re feeling up to it?” Hermione sighed.

“It was  _ not _ fine,” Ron replied jovially. “Scratchy bloody lace, smells like my aunt and I do  _ not _ want to know why. You all look great, honest,” he added, beaming at Hermione.

“Why thank you, Ron,” Ginny replied with a curtsey.

“Now out with it, who the  _ hell _ are you going with?!” Ron said with a grin. “‘Mione, who’s the lucky bloke?”

“Someone I’m sure you’ll like,” Hermione replied, shuffling on her heels. “Viktor Krum.” Ron gaped at her.

“Viktor Krum?! How the- wha’?!” Ron spluttered. “She’s fraternizing with the enemy!” he joked.

“The  _ enemy _ ?!” Hermione exclaimed indignantly. “Who-”

“I’m kidding, ‘Mione, I’m kidding!” Ron clarified. “Sorry, forgot you don’t always get sarcasm.”

“Oh.” Hermione grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Nono, don’t be sorry. My fault. He’ll be great, reflexes like that I bet he’s a great dancer,” Ron assured her. “What about you, Ariadne, who’s the lucky  _ girl _ ?” Ariadne smiled, tilting her head toward Ginny as Ginny reached for her hand and rubbed the back of her knuckles. “You’re… you’re going with Ginny?!”

“That she is,” Ginny replied. “And she’s  _ spoiling _ me, look at this dress! Professor McGonagall took us to Venmerria’s!”

“Bloody hell!” Ron stared at her. “You’re fraternizing with my sister!” he half-yelled, unable to contain a chuckle. “Told you, Hermione! She’s replaced me!” he cried as Ariadne fell into cackling laughter.

“Well, you’ve still got me,” Hermione replied with a toothy smile and the sniffs of a squeaking laugh.

“She’s-she’s a lot- she’s a lot prettier than you,” Ariadne said, smiling at Ginny who looked away bashfully. “You look really pretty, Ginny,” she added, an anxious lurch in her heart as Ginny grinned. Ron snorted.

“Pff. Well, you lot had better get going, haven’t you?” Ron said, looking at his watch. “Starts at eight, don’t it?” Ariadne went to check her watch, her finger only meeting the material of her blouse instead of the braille face.

“Yes, we’d better,” Hermione replied. “Will you be all right on your own?” she asked gently.

“I’ll be fine,” Ron assured her. “Listen to some music, maybe crack a book open. I do actually know how to read.”

“All right, well, see you later,” Ariadne said, ruffling his hair.

“Have fun!” Ron called as they stepped over the threshold of the Common Room and out to the staircase, Ginny gracefully taking Ariadne’s hand as the three of them began their way toward the Great Hall, amidst the many other students on their way. It was not just the Great Hall that had been adorned in festive ornaments, as tinsel was wrapped around the balustrades, which Hermione cringed away from as they brushed against her arm. Ariadne was almost disappointed by the lacking variety among the outfits of the boys who went past, as she wondered if Ron would have been the most interestingly dressed one there. Nearly all wore what were, to her at least, completely identical dress robes, while the girls sported significantly more variety. 

It wasn’t long before Ariadne, Ginny and Hermione finally reached the entrance hall, where Professor McGonagall was busying herself gathering the Champions and their dates, while other students milled about as they filtered into the Great Hall. Viktor, having been standing near Professor McGonagall smiled widely as he stepped toward the staircase the girls were descending down. Viktor, like all the other Durmstrang boys and indeed many of the Durmstrang girls, was wearing the same uniform dress robes as his classmates, with a fur-lined cloak that hung down his left side, as he clicked his heels and politely bowed to Hermione. Wringing her left hand excitedly, Hermione draped her right hand over Viktor’s offered arm, and the four walked to meet Professor McGonagall as Hermione buzzed in barely contained excitement.

“There you are, Grangers, Weasley, Mister Krum. Are you ready?” Professor McGonagall asked, hurrying to meet them as they approached.

“Ready as we’re gonna get,” Ginny replied, smiling at a near speechless Ariadne and nodding.

“Yeah,” Ariadne added, giddy in anticipation and anxiety.

“All right, come this way then,” Professor McGonagall told them, starting to lead them over. “Miss Weasley, is Ronald not coming? I haven’t seen him.”

“Er, no, he said he had a pretty bad headache,” Ginny replied nervously, pretending like McGonagall didn’t know exactly why the boy wasn’t joining them.

“Ah. Well, I hope he feels better soon,” McGonagall replied, as they joined Fleur and Cedric - Cedric, in his rather standard dress robes, stood beside Zhou, who wore a rather sleek looking dress with an almost corseted appearance, a rather slim skirt reaching down to her ankles as the sleeves flowed down past her knees, while Fleur wore a similarly long dress to Ginny in proportion, with asymmetrical floral designs over the straps and bodice, some sort of beaded structure sticking out of her hair which was in a bun at the back as she stood beside Roger Davies, one of the Ravenclaw Chasers who was dressed very much identically to Cedric. “Now, I need you all to line up in a precession please,” McGonagall said, ushering the eight of them into a column - Hermione was separated from Ariadne by Zhou, after McGonagall tried to figure out which sides Ariadne and Ginny should stand on, eventually deciding that because Ginny was the taller she’d stand behind Roger, Viktor and Cedric while Ariadne stood behind Fleur, Hermione and Zhou, as Roger gave them a strange look as opposed to Fleur’s delighted smile at their attendance together.

Ariadne’s heart was racing as the entrance hall was vacated of other students, and she wondered if Ginny could feel her frantic heartbeat through her fingers. Even Professor McGonagall had vanished into the Hall, and the great doors closed. Time felt like it had slowed down to a crawl, as she heard the muffled voices inside lull and go quiet. Her eager apprehension had become just plain apprehension as theirs and Hermione’s cores shuffled about in anxiety among the wreaths and crackling fires that surrounded them in the silence of the chamber. 

“It is all right, you are going to do fine,” Viktor assured Hermione quietly as she fretted silently, her free hand flexing anxiously in front of Zhou. “Follow what I do, like we practiced.”

“Yeah, like we practiced,” Hermione muttered, before Ariadne jumped at the sound of trumpets exploding within the Great Hall. Their curtain call had come, as the doors began to slide open.

Time sped up, as Ariadne forced her legs to shuffle forward, the fanfare and applause greeting them as they crossed the doorway and into the Great Hall. Tables covered in food and drink stood behind the crowd that they strode through the corridor of, magical snowflakes fading into nonexistence above their heads as three great Christmas trees stood at the end of the Hall. Ariadne hesitantly waved to Parvati and Lavender, who stood by an astonished Neville and Seamus, her right arm interlocked with Ginny’s as shocked whispers and gasps rippled through the space, seemingly about each and every one of them, as the crowd closed the way behind them. In what felt like only seconds to Ariadne, she was twirling to stand before Ginny, as the trumpets fell silent and they took their place in the second right quadrant of the space.

Professor Flitwick tapped the railed box he stood upon four times, before he turned and raised his wand to conduct the student orchestra. In unison with Fleur, whom she could sense diagonally behind her, Ariadne raised her right hand to Ginny’s left, and her left hand to her shoulder, as Ginny’s hand pressed against her waist and the ribbon that adorned it. 

Ariadne’s heart was beating faster than it ever had. She was standing in front of Hogwarts, Durmstrang  _ and _ Beauxbatons, Ginevra Weasley’s hand on her waist as they prepared to lead the Yule Ball. She would have thought it a dream if not for the definite sensation of Ginny’s fingers intertwined with her own.

The music started.

Ariadne shuffled backward, the same steps she’d practiced two dozen times with Neville and others, glad of her ability to sense behind her before they both, in unison, swapped hands and Ginny’s left hand met her waist.

She was dancing with Ginny.

The pair span, the rest of the world entirely forgotten save only the waltz played all around them, her skirt lagging poofily as Ariadne placed both hands on Ginny’s shoulders and jumped as both of Ginny’s hands wrapped around her, her skirt splaying out as she fell back to the floor, Ginny’s own waving beautifully as they span, before once more returning to the steps that grew ever easier as Ariadne felt her face going slightly flushed. In that moment, she cared not about the Triwizard Tournament and the shimmering golden cords that bound her to it, not about Ron, most likely alone in the fourth year boys’ dorm suffering, not about how Viktor was guiding Hermione around the dance floor. No, in that moment she had sense for only one person.

Ginny Weasley. Ginny. She was all that mattered, as Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall took to the stage, followed by High Master Karkaroff and Professor Vector.

Once again, Ariadne leapt into the air, her heart singing as she flew through the space, before tapping back onto the ground with a thrill of the music and all anxiety forgotten. Neville and Parvati stepped on, happily dancing as Professor Hagrid and Madame Maxime sidled together before striding onto the increasingly crowded dance floor. Ariadne only cared how many people were there insofar as she had to avoid crashing into them. She’d long lost Hermione in the crowd, but she had not messed up the dance so far as Ariadne could recall, as she and Ginny span, the gossamer flits of her partner’s dress flowing so much that they almost met Ariadne’s ankles, as she idly realized they were a bit closer together than they had been to start with, Ginny’s beaming face veritably inches from hers.

Oh how she wished she could just kiss her then and there. Sure, they were surrounded by an incredible amount of magic, in her schoolmates’ clothes and hair and faces as they wore their best, but she was only interested in the yellow, blue and red magic before her, spinning and spinning and spinning. She swore she could feel Ginny’s breath against her face.

With a final crescendo, the music fell silent as applause filled the Hall and she and Ginny dizzily stopped spinning, laughing gleefully as Ginny pulled her by the waist into a hug, her skirt crushing as the taller girl’s face was buried in her hair. The dance had ended entirely too quickly, and Ariadne felt she could spin around the dance floor with her for hours on end running on pure elation alone. As she vaguely became aware of everyone around them, Ariadne pulled Ginny into the embrace, a warmth in her chest, and the most joy she had felt in months, or even years, filling her body.

The dragon had been worth this, every second of terror. Every moment of anxiety as she’d sat in the Common Room half a month beforehand, waiting to be left alone with her so she could ask. Every horrible thing that had happened over the last four years was nothing,  _ nothing  _ compared to how happy she felt as she stood, wafting in Ginny’s arms, atop the dance floor of the Yule Ball.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, Hermione’s dress is more akin to what she wore in the canon to Bill and Fleur’s wedding, just longer with a higher neckline. It’s not stated, but it is red to match Viktor’s outfit.


	130. Flying Off From a Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weird Sisters come on stage, and Ariadne and Ginny clarify some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy my favourite deleted scenes :)  
> TW: Aphobia, transphobia, homophobia.

“Now!” Professor Dumbledore called, as Ariadne and Ginny span dizzily, giggling with the world forgotten. “Please! Enjoy the refreshments and nibbles while Professor Flitwick rearranges the orchestra a little!” he proclaimed gladly, flowing his wand across the stage and conjuring a great cloudy barrier of orange and green over it as conversation erupted across the Hall. “Feel free to patronize the photo booth, and enjoy your evening!” With that, it wasn’t long before an exhilarated Hermione burst through the crowd to meet them, beaming and waving her arms intently as Viktor smiled after her.

“That was so much fun!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping on the spot. “Let’s go and get a seat before they’re all taken!” she added, beckoning the girls onward as Viktor looked over the crowd and guided them. Ginny led Ariadne, hands intertwined, and eventually, Krum found where Cedric, Zhou, Fleur and Roger were sitting, beckoning the girls to join them all.

“Oh hey! Whole gang’s here!” Cedric called as they sat down. “Well that was an experience, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Hermione breathlessly replied. “Did I do okay?” she asked Viktor, who nodded.

“Of course! Of course, you did very well,” he assured her. “I would happily dance with you again.” Roger snorted.

“That all?” Roger said snidely, smirking. “Don’t think it’s the books that had him in the library with you, Granger.” Hermione scowled, as Fleur recoiled, also clearly infuriated as Ariadne drew back while Viktor’s expression turned into a thunderstorm.

“Our attendance was purely platonic!” Hermione protested, her feet juddering anxiously. “He’s asexual!”

“Pfff. He’s a bloke, we all know what he’s after,” Davies scoffed. “No point pretending about it.” Krum pulled out his scarlet wand, leaning his elbow on the table.

“Try not to cause an international diplomatic incident, Mister Davies,” Viktor spat, glaring darkly at him.

“All right, all right, no need to get your wand in a knot,” Davies spluttered, backing off with his arms in the air as Viktor put his wand away.

“Ooo, they’ve got lobster!” Cedric said a little loudly as if to change the subject, filling a plate as Hermione cringed a little looking about the table of what Ariadne knew would be unfamiliar foods to her. “I think that went quite well, don’t you?” he asked Ariadne.

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied, smiling at Ginny who was busying herself accumulating food on her own plate. Realizing how hungry she was, she too started pilfering from platters.

“You look wonderful, both of you,” Viktor told them warmly. “I am glad to see you happy, Ariadne, after seeing such fear in you.” Suddenly, Fleur snapped sideways with a disgusted look on her face.

“Just  _ what _ is your problem?!” she exclaimed at Roger, glaring at him as he spluttered.

“What?” Roger asked, feigning ignorance. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You rolled your eyes,” Fleur snapped.

“Wh-I-” the boy spluttered. “It’s just not traditional is all!”

“ _ What _ isn’t?” Ginny asked pointedly, straightening in her seat.

“Her taking a girl, like you!” Roger explained, pointing at Ariadne. “It’s tradition that the girls take a boy and the boys take a girl, that’s just how it is!” he stated.

“I dunno how much tradition matters in this case,” Cedric chuckled, clearly still trying to defuse the situation as Ariadne’s heartbeat accelerated again but not in the good way. “What’s it called again, the  _ Tri _ wizard Tournament? Fourth champion gets to break as many traditions as she likes.” 

“If you say you’re a girl, then act like one and take a boy next time,” Davies huffed, returning to his meal before jumping as every single other Champion had their wand on him in a heartbeat. Where Fleur had kept hers, Ariadne had no idea - Ariadne hadn’t even brought her own.

“You do not speak to Ariadne like that,” Viktor almost growled.

“No. In fact, you don’t speak to  _ any _ of us like that. If them coming together is a problem for you, then you may, as the English say, fuck right off!” Fleur added decisively, death in her stare.

“But I’m here with you!” Roger protested.

“Not anymore you are not,” Fleur told him, shoving him by the shoulder. “Get lost.” With that, Roger stumbled away, muttering under his breath as he shook his head and departed the Hall. “Ugh. I do not know which is worse, those who would like to see me kissing another girl or those who turn up their noses at a girl dancing with another girl,” Fleur said, shuffling over on the bench to sit nearer to Ginny as Ariadne released her breath and the others put their wands away, Hermione’s magical core relaxing. “I say we forget all about that little spat and enjoy ourselves. My apologies, Miss Weasley, I never caught your name, I have only seen you from afar.”

“Ginny,” Ginny replied, taking Fleur’s offered hand. “I’ve known ‘Adne for a few years, Miss Delacour.”

“Ginny. Oh, please, Fleur will do,” Fleur replied. “I  _ love _ your dresses, where did you get them?”

“V-V-Ven-Ven-v-v-v--Ven-Venmerria’s,” Ariadne replied. “It’s a place in the village,” she added, to Fleur’s frown.

“Ah, I have not-” Fleur began, before being cut off by the loud voice of Professor Flitwick sounding through the Great Hall.

“Your attention please!” he called, before his small frame flitted out of the cloudy curtain before the stage. Ariadne turned her attention backward as she took a sip of what tasted like some sort of tropical fruit juice, while everyone else around her turned to face the stage. “Sorry. Um, er, ladies and gentlemen! Shh-shh-shh!” he said, hushing the murmuring Hall. “Um. For the first time, playing live here at Hogwarts! Please welcome! The band that needs no introduction!” he cried eagerly, sending a bolt of light from his wand to a contraption in the ceiling as a bass guitar began to play and the clouds parted to reveal a huge bank of what looked like gramophones, and what could only be one Wizarding band stood upon the stage.

“That’s the Weird Sisters!” Ginny gasped, before batting at Ariadne’s shoulders. “Come on ‘Adne!” she exclaimed as Ariadne hurriedly put her glass down and swivelled over the bench to join the crowd that was quickly gathering again, the lead singer speaking through an enchanted microphone he’d taken from Flitwick.

“All right Hogwarts!” lead singer Myron Wagtail called out, pumping his feet to the beat that was played by a drum and the three-necked guitar played by Kirley Duke. “Are you ready for some real music? C’mon! I wanna see your hands in the air!” he added, as Viktor and Hermione ran over, Ginny cheering as what Ariadne knew to be her favourite band took the stage and similar cheers filled the Hall. “You’re lookin’ good! Gonna teach you a brand new dance tonight!” he cried as he began clapping to the beat and Ginny joined in. Listening to the beat, Ariadne had  _ some _ idea of what song they were about to start, but she’d never listened to them much. Regardless, Ginny’s excitement was contagious as she bounced on her heels and waved her hand in the air. “Are you ready?! ARE YOU READYYYYYYY?!” he screamed as Professor Flitwick let himself fall backward onto the crowd, crowdsurfing.

“ _ Move your body like a hairy troll! _ ” Wagtail sang, as Ariadne tapped around on the spot in rhythm with Ginny, a wide grin over her face as Hermione awkwardly gave it a go. “ _ Uh-learning to rock and roll. Spin around like a crazy elf. Ah-dancing by himself. _ ” All too glad to, Ariadne twirled on her toes and let the flared dress about her legs splay out around her to an excitable yell from Ginny. “ _ Boogie down like a unicorn! No stoppin’ ‘till the break of dawn! Put your hands up in the air, like an ogre who just don’t care! _ ” Ariadne inhaled as Wagtail leapt into the air. She may not have known the lyrics to the verses, but she knew the chorus as Ginny waved her hands in unison with the escalating drums.

“ _ Can you dance like a hippogriff?! Mamama-mamama-mamama! _ ” she sang in unison with the crowd and Ginny who beamed at her even as she sang, the gramophones on the wall behind them shaking and bursting with the drums. “ _ Flying off, from a cliff mamama-mamama-mamama! Swoopin’ down to the ground! Mamama-mamama-mamama! Wheel around and around and around and around, mamama-mamama-mamama! _ ”

“ _ Move around like a scary ghost, _ ” Wagtail continued as the music descended back into the verses’ thump and Hermione continued her rhythmic hand-motions. “ _ Spookin’ himself the most! Shake your booty like a boggart in pain! Again and again and again! _ ” Ariadne giggled as Ginny started wiggling her hips at her with a silly face, relenting and shaking her own as the poofy dress about her legs waved with a second’s lag. “ _ Get it on like an angry spectre, who’s definitely out to getcha! Stamp your feet like a leprechaun! Get it on, get it on! _ ” Once again, Ariadne knew the lyrics and joined in as Wagtail stamped his feet behind the cataclysm of arms and heads all about them and leapt back into the chorus. 

“ _ Can you dance like a hippogriff? Mamama-mamama-mamama! Flying off from a cliff, mamama-mamama-mamama! Swoopin’ down to the ground, mamama-mamama-mamama! Wheel around and around and around and around mamama-mamama-mamama! Yeah-yeah-yeah! _ ” the crowd roared in unison, before the bagpipes came on and Hermione clapped her hands over her ears in distress. “ _ Oh come on! Mmm you gotta groove it! Mm like a groovy… creature, creature of the night! In a fright! Oh, a creature of the night! Well do ya feel all right, do ya feel all right?! Stop! _ ” he sang, as Hermione slowly recovered from the now silent bagpipes and began dancing again as the music started to calm down a little - she was definitely trying to maneuver away from the gigantic bank of crashing gramophones though. Once again, the chorus resumed, in a quieter beat than usual, as Hermione hesitantly kept dancing. Ariadne would have checked up on her had Ginny not been her priority, dancing gleefully without a care in the world.

“ _ Can you dance like a hippogriff, mamama-mamama-mamama? Flying off from a cliff, mamama-mamama-mamama? _ ”

“Swoopin-” Ariadne and indeed half the crowd started, as Wagtail paused dramatically, resuming the chorus half a second later than the studio version amidst the silent band.

“ _ Swooping down to the ground! Mamama-mamama-mamama!! _ ” he bellowed as the band jumped back into top gear and blasted music from the bank. “ _ Wheel around and around and around and around and around and around and around and ar-rarararararound!!!!!!! Oh come on! Aaaaaa come on! Yeeeeahhh can you dance like a hippogriff?! Yeah-eyeah-eyeah! _ ” Finally, the song came to a close, as the Hall erupted into cheers and a giddy Ginny threw herself around Ariadne to her surprise, and Hermione ducked out of the crowd and back toward the tables with a concerned-looking Viktor in tow.

“Oh, um,” Ariadne spluttered, turning to face her sister as Ginny looked over. “We should… we should check on her,” she said, as Ginny nodded, following Ariadne as she began pushing her way past the outskirts of what had become a mosh-pit further in and out to Hermione and Viktor, who were talking while Hermione stimmed nervously.

“Too loud, too loud, too loud,” Hermione was repeating quietly, as Ariadne approached.

“It’s okay, we can go sit over there if you like, hmm?” Viktor assured her as she nodded vigorously and let herself be led away. As she and Viktor sat down, Ariadne and Ginny sat down beside the clearly non-verbal Hermione. “Ah, Ariadne. Is she all right, does this happen often?”

“Uh, she um, she doesn’t like loud noises and things,” Ariadne explained. “Stresses her out. You okay, ‘Mione?” Hermione nodded blankly. “Just can’t talk?” She shook her head. “Yeah, she’s all right, she just can’t talk right now if that makes sense?” Ariadne said to Viktor.

“Ah, all right,” Viktor said, relaxing a little and sitting between Ariadne and Hermione. “So, you two?” he said jovially, pointing to her and Ginny. “You have known each other many years, are you… Are you a  _ thing _ ?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh, er, um…” Ariadne spluttered.  _ Were _ they a thing?! She didn’t actually know, and even if they were, would Ginny want him to know?! “No, we’re just friends,” she lied as Ginny nodded behind her, before stopping with her mouth hanging slightly open. Hermione frowned, tilting her head at her as Ginny’s excited expression fell completely.  _ Oh fuck. _

“Would you excuse us please,” Ginny said quickly, standing up and veritably running down the aisle to the door as Ariadne slumped before pushing herself up, her heart racing in fear. She’d fucked it up, she’d fucked everything up! Her whole world crashed down around itself, everything was ruined. Everything was fucked, she had ruined it.

She had to talk to Ginny, explain herself. She had to, she knew as she jogged to catch up with her in the entrance hall, stepping out into the snow as she heard the tiniest sniff from Ginny. She hoped it was just how cold it was.  _ Nonononononononoononononononoooooo _ .

“Ginny!” Ariadne called desperately as the girl vanished out into the courtyard, among the snow and through a heavy door. “Ginny!” she cried, as she finally caught up with her, taking her arm. 

“Just friends?! I thought… I really thought this was…” Ginny quavered, running her hands over her braids and shuddering in what Ariadne realized was anger. She had to head this off  _ now _ .

“Ginny, I… I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I didn’t-I didn’t-I didn’t mean that!” she pleaded, breathing heavily.

“So why did you say it?!” Ginny exclaimed, spinning to her angrily, the expensive dress floofing through the snow.

“Because…” Ariadne spluttered. “Because we’ve never talked about it and I didn’t know if you wanted him to know and I don’t know if you want-” she slurred, word after word blending together as her arms went numb and her heartbeat thumped in her chest. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t be.

“I- I.. what?” Ginny said, frowning confusedly. “Er… come in here,” she said, beckoning Ariadne over toward the bank of carriages that stood horseless in the snow, holding open one of the doors. Spluttering in the cold, Ariadne hurriedly stepped up on the steps and sat down inside, shivering in nerves as Ginny sat down beside her, mouth open slightly. “Okay, I didn’t get a word you said, slow down and say it again.”

“I…” Ariadne breathed, almost feeling nauseous. “I… I didn’t know what you wanted so I said that in case you didn’t-” she half spluttered, sniffing half from the cold and half from her own anxiety. “We-we-we never… we never…”

“ _ Not _ just friends then?” Ariadne shook her head. “I thought this was… I thought this was a date,” Ginny said quietly. “A  _ date _ date.”

“D-y-doodododood-do-didid-did-dy-dyou want it to be?” Ariadne asked, her words hardly discernible. Ginny bit her lip, nodding her head. “Same.” She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t fainted, as she felt light-headed and as if she might throw up. This was  _ not _ how she imagined telling Ginny how she felt would go. “I’m sorry!” Ariadne wailed. “I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I didn’t know if you-if-if-f-ifyou-if you-wanted-if you wanted-” Ginny’s hands wrapped around her own, warm in the cold, the purple-glowing bracelet brushing against her little finger. “You’ve always been so nice to me and I don’t- I don’t know if you- if you wanted me to- totototot-to-”

“I  _ want _ you to be my girlfriend,” Ginny said quietly, cutting her off. Ariadne almost didn’t react, before her mind imploded. Ginny wanted her to be her girlfriend. 

“You do?” The words fell out of Ariadne’s mouth almost unbidden as her mouth hung open.

“I thought you  _ were _ my girlfriend!” Ginny laughed. “But yeah, I guess we never said it huh? Merlin, we’re dumb,” she said, beaming at her as one of her hands met Ariadne’s shoulder. Ariadne sniffed, half-laughing herself. If she’d only asked earlier, this whole debacle wouldn’t have happened.  _ Merlin, we’re dumb, indeed _ .

“So you-” Ariadne breathed. “So you want to be… so you want to be with me?” she asked in awe, only half able to believe it herself.

“Yes!” Ginny exclaimed, laughing joyfully as she brushed a hand through Ariadne’s hair and her heart fluttered. “What now, girlfriend?” Ariadne could have sworn her heart might have stopped from shock. She was Ginny Weasley’s girlfriend.

“I…” Ariadne murmured thinking. “Do-do you want people to know?” she asked, concernedly. “I mean, I’m… I’m famous, I don’t know what- Rita Skeeter...” she mumbled. “That’s… that’s why I said-”

“Should probably keep it quiet, yeah,” Ginny said, sadly. “But hey, doesn’t matter. What do you want to do  _ right now _ ?” Ginny asked.

“I dunno,” Ariadne replied, half a lie. What she wanted was-

“Well  _ I _ want to kiss you,” Ginny said, jumping at having said that, as Ariadne half-gasped, only barely comprehending that. “Do you want to… um… do you want to kiss me, Ariadne?” she asked gently and quietly, smiling as she shuffled on her skirt and leaned over.

Ariadne answered without words, her world exploding as her lips met Ginny’s. It was only for a second or two, but it felt like an eternity to Ariadne, as Ginny’s hand wrapped over her shoulder and her left brushed her cheek. She was flying off from a cliff, the taste of whatever vanilla-flavoured chapstick Ginny was wearing coated her own lips as the edge of Ginny’s thumb nudged her glasses up on her nose. Nothing else mattered other than the beautiful, brilliant, artistic girl sitting in front of her.

“ _ LUMOS! _ ” Professor Snape bellowed, sliding to a halt beside the carriage with a blare of white wand-light as Ginny shrieked and Ariadne fell sideways as the Professor threw the door open. Heart hammering for all the wrong reasons, Ariadne threw herself out of the door onto the snow as Snape pointed his wand at them. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Granger, the same again Weasley!” he barked, as Ginny grabbed her by the hand and dragged her up and away from the carriage, past High Master Karkaroff and out of the courtyard.

“It’s a sign, Severus! You know it is!” Karkaroff hissed as they clattered over past a pillar and immediately ran into Professor Moody’s green-glowing form, Ginny giggling all the way as they sprinted away, stopping to catch their laughing breath in a little nook.

It took them several minutes to get over the fits of laughter that overtook them at what had just happened, cackling in the columns as chatter filled the halls, the Yule Ball having partially dispersed as the Weird Sisters played  _ This Is the Night _ inside and as Ariadne batted what had to be snow off her dress.

“Oh my god!” Ginny exclaimed. “That was- pfffffffffffffff,” she added, before descending into giggles again. “I love you,” she said, beaming at Ariadne as she kept laughing. Ariadne stopped laughing, still smiling widely.

“I um… I love you too,” Ariadne replied, as Ginny tapped her shoulders.

“Come on come on, let’s go get a photo!” Ginny cried, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her onward to the queue for the photo booth, where Ariadne was perplexed to sense the lycanthropic core of one Ronald Weasley standing beside Viktor and Hermione, wearing what could only have been the lace-adorned dress robes his mother had sent. “Ron! Hey!” she exclaimed.

“Hey Ginny,” Ron replied, his voice scratchy. “I only came for photos, don’t get any ideas,” he groaned, Ariadne noticing the glamours on his face were stronger, as were the jinxes on his ears. “Where’d you two go?”

Ginny and Ariadne faced one another, before falling into nasally cackles again as they joined the queue behind Ron, Hermione adorned with a knowing smile on her face.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD that was fun. I saw that deleted scene a few months ago and just HAD to do that. AND we got our confirmed Ginniadne, and their first kiss… interrupted by Professor Snape.  
> If I don’t get Chapter 131 out within the next 48 hours, then you’ll have to wait a few days longer - having family over! (I'm in New Zealand, don't worry!)


	131. Thread, Antlers and Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes, and with it some rather surprising gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see if I can get another couple chapters outta me noggin before my sister arrives xD  
> TW: Misgendering, deadnaming, transphobia.

> _ It was snowing in the graveyard, and still was. Wintertime had come, blanketing the old house and the grounds in cursed snow. She hated the cold, it threatened the survival of the wretched form she’d spent so long forming, that the damned alchemist could only barely sustain even when the cold didn’t rip into the house they hid in. _
> 
> _ She hated hiding. She should have been the most powerful Dark Lord the world had ever seen. And now she was emaciated and pitiful, languishing in the weakness the Potter boy had forced upon her. The boy that now played about in skirts and made mockeries of dragons. She could not tolerate that insult, that the boy should be forgiven his disgusting behaviours, no,  _ rewarded _ for them, while she hid away like a worm. _
> 
> _ Not long now. Not long. Soon, she would return. Soon, the Boy Who Lived would die. _
> 
> _ “Let me see it again!” she ordered the man who blurred down in front of her, her voice wispish and frail. “Ah, yes, the time is close now!” she marvelled, the sleeve being pulled up to reveal her Mark, the Dark Mark. Soon, they would all feel it, soon it would darken on the arm of every one of her old servants and comrades. Soon, the Dark Lord Voldemort would return to the waking world with his army at his back. _

Ariadne shuffled awake suddenly, blinking blearily as she gently put her glasses on, once more illuminating the Common Room. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa with Ginny again, but that time it had been a little more deliberate and they’d gathered a blanket or two and chosen the wider sofa so they weren’t quite so uncomfortably squished. As her magic sense bloomed into comprehensibility around her, she realized Ginny was already awake, her thumb brushing against her shoulder.

“Morning ‘Adne,” Ginny smiled as Ariadne shrugged her way up and stretched. “You sleep okay? Seemed like you were having a nightmare,” she asked. Ariadne shrugged again, grimacing a little as she struggled to remember any of the details. Something about a tattoo, but as always, it had barely made sense to her. At least she had woken not to her watch beeping, but to Hermione clattering down the stairs happily, and the sound of Ron crashing down onto the small sofa nearby.

“Morning,” she grumbled, finding herself collapsed in Ginny’s lap before she pushed herself up and sat, the blanket falling down a little down her. She’d at least worn her pajamas that time, and she yawned as Ginny rubbed her back affectionately. “Merry Christmas, Gin,” she mumbled, noticing that the room had changed since she’d fallen asleep - the big tree had been there the whole time, but smaller ones had been set up, as well as one directly in front of them with presents littered at its base - one of which the really quite long one she regarded with a knowing smirk, amongst over a dozen packages and boxes large and small.

“Oh, these are all ours!” Hermione exclaimed, studying the labels.

“Yeah, Dobby came around not long after ‘Adne nodded off,” Ginny explained. “Said he wanted to do us a favour, so he took the liberty of giving us our own tree. Some of the other elves too, I think they said their names were Bonnie, Trill and Pinkie, they were organizing the whole House’s gifts. Really nice, made sure the fire stayed on,” she said.

“Dobby was here?” Ariadne asked quizzically, sitting up.

“Mhmm!” Ginny replied, sitting up and reaching down to the tree. “Said he’d be busy this morning, but he  _ did _ leave us all a little something each,” she said, handing Ariadne a small parcel marked with Dobby’s handwriting in magical ink before tossing one each to Hermione and Ron, who had sat down on the carpet. Ariadne gently undid what was clearly expert wrapping, to reveal a pair of fluffy socks and a note in magical ink.

> _ Miss Ariadne Granger _
> 
> _ Dobby must apologize for not being able to find magical thread! Sadly he could not afford it. But! Dobby made Miss Granger these socks, one is patterned with Golden Snitches and the other with broomsticks! _
> 
> _ Dobby hopes Miss Granger finds them nice and warm! _

“Awwwww, did Dobby make us all socks?!” Ginny crooned, beaming at her own. “Mine are fireworks, what are yours- oh he made you Quidditch ones!” she said, looking over to Ariadne, who took her socks off immediately and put the new ones on. Miss Granger did indeed find them nice and warm, as Ron curled up his nose.

“Could you toss those somewhere  _ other _ than right in front of me?” he protested, kicking her other socks away as he opened his own. “Huh… stars?”

“Oh, look on the sole!” Hermione exclaimed, pointing. “He’s hidden the moon on the heels.” Ron laughed, smiling.

“Cheeky bugger. What’d he put on yours?” he asked, leaning over.

“Just books,” Hermione said happily, patting them beside her as Ariadne wriggled her toes in the fuzzy fabric before Hermione took hold of a box and slid it over to him. “For you,” she said simply, as Ron leaned over painfully and took it.

“What’s this then?” he mumbled as they all watched him tear the wrapping off what was revealed to be a small cardboard box, which he opened and frowned into, pulling out a necklace with a quizzical look - Ariadne recognized the silicon beads and shapes dangling from it immediately.

“It’s a chew necklace!” Hermione told him excitedly. “Mum and Dad usually give them to teething kids, but I noticed you’ve been chewing things a lot so… chew necklace,” she mumbled, clearly uncertain as to whether Ron liked it as he frowned curiously. “I actually had a few when I was younger.” Ron tentatively bit one of the shapes, before making a half-appreciative face.

“Got me a chew toy,” he said, smiling. “Whatcha gonna get me next, a bone?” he laughed as Hermione shrank down sadly. “Nono, I’m joking. It’s great, I ran out of gum so…” Ron assured her as she brightened up with a smile and as he threw the necklace over his head and nodded as he chewed a disc. “And a…” Ron mused, reaching into the box again. “A cookbook! Thanks ‘Mione!” he exclaimed, scooching over and hugging her. “You’re the best.”

“I… I only got some things that I thought you’d like,” Hermione protested, as Ron snorted.

“Exactly, you’re the best,” he said as Ginny reached into the pile and pulled out something small and long. “Oh, there’s one in there for all of you,” he told them, pointing and prompting all three of them to find their own. Whatever it was, it was light as Ariadne tossed it in her hand and frowned at how suddenly bashful Ron had gone. Unwrapping it, she sensed the shape of a long curved cylinder which ran to a tapered point, with a groove and a hole in it. They weren’t quite identical, as Ginny and Hermione opened theirs, all very slightly differing in length and shape, and each with a metal keyring drilled into the point, and to the touch it felt like bone.

“It’s a whistle?” Ginny asked, as Ron smiled, before waving his hands to stop her from blowing it.

“They’re um… they’re dog whistles,” Ron told them. “Red found some antlers, Hagrid helped make them. If you ever need me, well, there’s one way to get my attention  _ immediately _ .” Ariadne smiled whimsically as she ran her finger down the whistle, feeling the very slight impression of an R carved into it.

“Aww, thanks Ron!” Ginny exclaimed, a devilish smile on her face. “But you do know these  _ will _ be used against you as soon as we get home?” Ron scoffed, probably rolling his eyes as they all picked more presents to unwrap. Hilariously, Ron immediately unwrapped something  _ else _ made of the same antlers, sent by Hagrid - a handmade flute, which he gave an experimental blow and found it to produce a rather mournful tone. While he did that, Ariadne opened a smaller present from Ginny, upon which a glowing love heart adorned the label, to find a small book.

“ _ Aurum _ ink?” she cast curiously, pointing her wand at the book to find nothing happening on the page she’d opened. Ginny smiled and leaned over.

“ _ Aurum _ pencil,” Ginny whispered, revealing an image of Ariadne, leaning forward on a broom with her hand outstretched for a golden snitch, hair blowing in the breeze to reveal her scar as her glasses’ chain billowed. Ariadne gaped as she flipped the pages - landscapes, animals, objects, all were drawn out in the pages, often multiple to a page.

It was Ginny’s sketchbook, filled to the brim with pictures, and as she flipped through the pages, she noticed an angled image of a face, resting on a shoulder. Her own face, she realized, eyes closed and a curl of hair flopping down over her glasses, her scar peeking out. Ginny smiled, regarding it.

“You fell asleep before I did that night, I just had to,” she explained as Ariadne beamed at her. “There’s some in the back there I didn’t quite finish, but…” Ariadne flipped to the back, to find a planned out one, many of the details missing but much of the basic image still there. It was all of them, all four of them, all in their Yule Ball attire. Hermione and Ron stood on the left, Hermione’s hands mischievously forming dog ears over Ron’s head, as Ginny and Ariadne stood on the right - Ariadne looked shocked, as the planned out shape of Ginny’s head kissed her on the cheek.

It was one of their photos, one of half a dozen they’d had taken but she couldn’t sense. Looking onto the other back pages, there were other planned sketches present, all representations of the other photos.

“Oh thank you Ginny!” Ariadne cried, embracing her girlfriend as she patted her back. “This is wonderful! Open that one, open that one!” she exclaimed, pulling away and pointing to the long package that sat underneath the small tree, its length dwarfing the tree’s height, holding the sketches to her chest lovingly.

“Wait, that’s for  _ me _ ?!” Ginny marvelled, pulling the wrapped box over toward the sofa as she slid down onto the floor and began diligently unwrapping it, as Ariadne smiled knowingly. Inside, was a long wooden box, as Ginny frowned, before she gasped. “Clean- _ CLEANSWEEP?! _ ” Ginny half-yelled, tearing the rest of the wrappings off in a heartbeat with the screech of ripping paper and opening the box to reveal Ariadne and Sirius’ gift to her.

Ginny gasped, her eyes wide and mouth agape as she lifted the Cleansweep Eight broomstick into the air, its green magic like an arrow in her arms as she gingerly lifted it to show Hermione and Ron, who gaped at them both.

“You did say I was spoiling you,” Ariadne said warmly, heat in her chest and face as Ginny turned to face her, one hand clapped over her face as the broom hovered before her.

“I don’t see a broomstick for me,” Ron joked, exaggeratedly looking around the tree.

“ _ You’re _ not my girlfriend,” Ariadne told him, before Ginny leapt into her arms and bowled her over onto the floor. “Woah!”

“Oh my god  _ thank you _ !” Ginny exclaimed, wiggling excitedly and waving Ariadne to the point she thought she might get dizzy. “You got- oh my god you got me a  _ broomstick?! _ ”

“Well, Sirius helped pay for it-” Ariadne explained, before being cut off by Ginny’s lips on her cheek.

“I am  _ so _ trying out for the team next year!” Ginny cried. “Oh my… you got me a  _ broomstick _ ! All I got you was that stupid sketchbook and this!” she exclaimed, pulling a beaded bracelet from her pocket which Ariadne eagerly held a hand up to, letting Ginny drop it into her palm. Smiling, she slid it down over her arm, and leaned over to kiss Ginny’s cheek.

“I love them,” Ariadne said, as Ginny spluttered.

“But they’re nothing! I just-”

“No they’re not!” Ariadne protested. “Gin, this is  _ months _ of work! Months of careful, precise, creative work that I could never have done!” she said, holding the book up. “You made things! I-I-I-I j-I j-I ju-I just threw some money at a broomstick company, and half of it was Sirius’!”

“But this was so expensive!” Ginny exclaimed. “This is a Cleansweep Eight, it’d take months for Dad to save up enough for it even if it were on sale!”

“Oh don’t worry, this is why nobody  _ else  _ got anything from me,” Ariadne laughed as Ron burst out laughing. “But what’s the point in being rich if I can’t spoil my girlfriend?” she added happily, rubbing Ginny’s back as she kissed the back of her hand. Ron feigned retching at the romantic gesture, before dragging a parcel to himself, sounding like cloth was inside.

“You’re revolting. Mum sent us jumpers, nice,” Ron announced, pushing a couple toward Ariadne and Ginny and another to Hermione. “Maybe she should have made you two one of those big ones with two neck holes,” he joked as Ariadne blushed. “Look on the inside?” he muttered, flipping a note onto the floor as he inverted the bottom of his jumper.

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed seeing it.

“What’d she do?” Ariadne asked eagerly.

“There’s a little wolf embroidered on the inside,” Ron told them happily, showing Hermione. “Red’ll never wear it though, he’s too big,” he said as Ginny unceremoniously stole Ariadne’s jumper and pulled it on, a blue-glowing A twinkling off her front as she poked Ariadne’s nose playfully. “Let’s see what’s in the big box, then, Ariadne,” he said, pointing to a large box that stood taller than the bottom of the twiggy tree’s branches and which Ariadne had assumed was not for her.

Frowning, Ariadne leaned down and picked it up - it was a little heavier than she’d expected, as she deposited it beside her on the sofa and undid the ribbons holding its wrappings closed, finding a tag.  _ To Ariadne Granger - From Charlie Weasley and the crew at the sanctuary _ . Even more confused, Ariadne opened the box to find something glowing green, orange and blue within, blocked by a parchment letter in magical ink.

> _ To Ariadne Granger _
> 
> _ I hope this parcel arrives early enough for it to be a Christmas gift, but in case it doesn’t, merry late Christmas. I know we’ve never spoken, but I know you’re close to Ron, which is good enough for me. He says good things about you. _
> 
> _ I’ll start by addressing the elephant in the room. You killed one of our dragons. Please don’t feel guilty about that - you had no choice, and Hagrid told me you were pretty cut up about it. We forgive you, and in fact, I think it makes you pretty cool. _
> 
> _ Killing a dragon the way you did is perhaps the most dangerous way possible, given it requires proximity and an open mouth. You pretty much never get that opportunity unless you’re inches from death, which is why nobody does it, even though it  _ is  _ a one-hit kill. And it’s why, as a result, that was actually about the cleanest kill of a dragon any of us have ever seen. The damage to her carcass was localized to the upper skull, which, I’m sure you’ve noticed has left us with quite a large quantity of very rare, undamaged dragon hide. _
> 
> _ We may not like having to, but the way we see it, we might as well make use of what you left us. And what you left us was a lot of dragon. I’m sure you’ll probably encounter students with wands made using her heartstring next year, Ollivander just made a big order and we’re harvesting it now. But what’s most useful aside from her blood (which unfortunately you did spill quite a bit of), was her hide. Dragon hide is incredibly valuable, especially in the state you left it in which is almost completely undamaged. Those gloves you get in Diagon Alley? They’re made from shit, damaged, dragon hide scraps, almost entirely devoid of their magical resistances. _
> 
> _ This ain’t. The enclosed is made from the cleanest, best preserved dragon hide any of us have ever had the privilege of working with. _
> 
> _ Please find enclosed a complete set of Welsh Green dragonhide robes, gloves and boots. All are enchanted to always fit the wearer, and I think they’ll come in handy for you this year - they’re just about the best dragon hide robes you’ll ever find. They’re on the sanctuary. _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Charles Weasley _

“What is it, Ariadne?” Hermione asked, as Ariadne gaped at the letter and set it down, placing a hand on the glowing leathery substance that sat in the box. “Did… who’s it from?” she asked facing Ron and Ginny, who both shook their heads.

“It… it’s from Charlie,” Ariadne muttered, plucking the gloves from the box with her heart in her throat. She wasn’t sure if she even  _ deserved _ the gift, or if it was even right for her to effectively  _ wear _ the dragon she’d killed. Their threads glowed blue and orange, as the actual leather was a brilliant green, no different to how it had been while the Welsh Green had lived.

“Is that… is that  _ dragon leather? _ ” Ron asked inexplicably as Ariadne stood, taking hold of the neckline of the leather robes and pulling them up. They were heavy, and Ginny gasped as she held them ahead of her, as they scanned her body and reformed ever so slightly, the green magic becoming almost more dense. “Woah!”

“That’s from the-” Hermione spluttered, standing and staring into the box. “Oh my god, Ariadne, this is…”

“Welsh Green dragonhide,” Ariadne mumbled, thinking. She and Hermione had read about dragon hide and just how powerful it was.

“This is like a suit of armour!” Hermione exclaimed, pulling the sleeve of the robes up gently. “Dragon hide is… this is like  _ mithril _ !”

“Mithril?” Ginny asked, marvelling at it.

“ _ Lord of the Rings _ ,” Hermione explained. “In the story, it’s the strongest metal ever, mined from deep in Khazad-Dum, by the Dwarves!”

“It’s not just a suit of armour,” Ariadne mumbled. “This is still magically resistant, I can sense it,” she added, too overwhelmed to smile. If she wore it into a task, she’d never be injured, not even scratched, not by claw, magic or flame.

“Wait, so if you wore that and I tried to stun you?” Ron spluttered, groaning as he stood and squinted at the robes.

“It’d just bounce off,” she replied, shaking her head. “This is… this is  _ rare _ , rarer than rare,” Ariadne murmured, gingerly placing a hand inside the hood as the enormity of the gift hit her, the gentle fabric of the inside lining rubbing against her fingers. The robes alone were probably worth multiple times more than their house, possibly even equal to the entire value of the gold in her vault, let alone if one included the boots and gloves. Dragonhide of that quality was the most sought-after resource in the wizarding world, for good reason. In those robes, nothing could touch her. Some rich families like the Malfoys might have had a simple shirt in such hide, or a hood, but she had an entire  _ set  _ of robes.

Only a month and a bit ago, the Welsh Green had nearly killed her. Now, its skin would make sure nothing else got a chance.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so this was meant to include more stuff but it was way too long so guess what it’s the Christmas chapter.  
> (btw the reason she/her pronouns are used in the Voldemort section is because it is Ariadne seeing it through her own lens - she is experiencing that moment)  
> A few of ya predicted the chewlery, love it when that happens.  
> Once more, if I don’t get Chapter 132 written in the next 36 hours, y’all are waiting a few days.


	132. Eureka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of Ron, Ariadne decodes the Golden Egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: okay my beloved family are no longer visiting, I should write Chapter 132.  
> Also me: how about we hyperfixate on some of the plans we have for stuff that is probably hundreds of chapters away and make a tiki-toki timeline of every single thing planned to happen from this point in the story on until in-universe’s 2037 (I got plans y’all, 8 pages of which are post-DH)  
> TW: Dysphoria, Abuse (mentioned)

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ariadne asked Ron as they walked slowly across the snowy lawns, checking mentally for unexpected bumps as Hermione nearly tripped over while she examined the designs on the golden egg carefully, being careful not to nudge its latch open as Ginny bit her lip. It was Boxing Day, but the time for relaxing had passed. “Tonight’s-”

“I know what tonight is, Ariadne, I’ve got a bloody calendar,” Ron snapped, leaning heavily on his cane. “It’s why this’ll work, closer it is the better my ears are.” That night was to be the first day of his seventh full moon, and it definitely showed. Somehow, the boy assured them it was getting better with each passing cycle, but that didn’t do much to assuage Ariadne’s concern at his clear illness - the glamours on his face had only been stronger that morning, as had the jinxes on his ears and nose, and he was chewing on the necklace Hermione had given him near constantly.

“But you-but you-you-you-you’ve already got a headache, this is just going to make that worse!” Ariadne protested, tilting her head at the egg. At Ron’s insistence, they were finding a secluded spot so as to not disturb everyone else as they opened it for him to listen to. Owls hooted as they departed the Owlery tower on the hill, and soft flakes wafted down upon their heads, a chilly wind blowing through them.

“I’m fine- eurgh…” Ron told her, pausing to screw up his eyes and briefly hold his hand to his stomach, wincing.

“No you’re not,” Ariadne replied. “We shouldn’t be doing this, not on the full moon. We can wait until after New Years, what’s the difference?”

“What’s the difference? Just your bloody life, if we take too long,” he said, sarcasm giving way to protectiveness as Ginny nodded. “Got these ears, might as well use ‘em. This’ll do,” he announced, as he sat down on a large boulder near a grove of trees at the edge of the forest. “Oof, ow. Pass it here, ‘Mione.”

“Those runes are a maze,” Hermione told him forlornly as she handed the egg to him. “I can’t make heads or tails of half of them. It’s clearly a depiction of Hogwarts on most of it, but these runes-” she pointed to a few spots on the surface. “-are regarding water, the ocean. Besides, I’m guessing that these structures are seaweed, and the latch is a starfish.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Ron mused tiredly, smiling at her, before Hermione frowned reproachfully. “In a good way, I mean,” he added as Hermione fished a small notebook out of her pocket along with a pen, her fingers clumsy in the thick mittens she wore. Ariadne was similarly bundled, but they had no idea if it was good for Ron for him to be as thinly dressed as he was, barely wearing a jumper. “Might want to cover your ears, Hermione,” he told her, before he pulled his wand from where it had stuck out of his pocket and waved it past his own, cancelling out the jinxes that faded from Ariadne’s sense.

“Oh, um…” Hermione muttered, looking about for somewhere to put down her book before shuffling it back into the pocket it had come from and clapping her gloved hands to her ears. “Ready.” With that, Ariadne and Ginny covered their own ears as Ron put a hand on the latch and tensed his arm.

With a click, an ear-wrenching screech filled the air as Ron screwed up his face in agony, his eyes only barely open as Hermione wiggled anxiously on the spot and Ariadne tensed her arms up, squeezing her ears even more as the horrific racket assaulted her ears. She could only imagine how unpleasant it was for Ron, as, paradoxically, he braved the noise for what felt like an eternity, even as Hermione yelled that his ears were bleeding. Waving her off, he grimaced and began shifting his hand ponderously to a melody, as relief filled Ariadne. He could hear it, the whole endeavour and pain it must have been causing hadn’t been a waste, as he suddenly moved to shut it, twisting the latch back as the horrific wailing ceased abruptly.

“Are you all right?!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping forward as Ron clutched at his head painfully, groaning as he screwed his eyes up and fumbled with his wand. “Your ears are bleeding!”

“ _ Episkey! _ ” Ron almost shouted, jabbing the silvery rod at his ear with a wave of orange and blue and a gentle pop. “Oh… ow-ow-ow-ow…” he groaned, putting his wand down on the rock beside him and holding his hands to his ears. “ _ Audiminus _ …  _ Audiminus _ ,” he added, returning the orange wave to each of his ears, more powerfully than before.

“What-what-wha-what’d-what’d-what’d you hear?” Ariadne asked gently, at which Ron winced and pointed to his ear. “What did you hear?” she repeated, much louder to a nod.

“There was this… song? There’s a voice, I couldn’t quite get the words, but it definitely rhymed,” Ron replied, closing his eyes to concentrate. “mm-MMM-m-mmm-mm-mmMMM-mmmmm… mm-mmMM-m-mmMM-m-mmmm… mm-MMMmm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mmmMM… m-mMMmm-mmmm-mmm-mmmmmm…” he hummed, waving a finger to the music. “Hang on, don’t starfish have five thingies? This has six,” he added questioningly, flexing his hand.

“A voice?” Hermione asked, frowning. “Oh! Oh, a voice! There are merpeople in the Black Lake!” she exclaimed, jumping up and down excitably. “If you put it underwater-!”

“I’ll be able to hear it!” Ariadne exclaimed, grabbing the egg from where Ron had sat it and trying to jog off before her nose suddenly met crunchy snow as she tripped on something and plummeted to the ground, cold spreading over her face from the impact as she hurriedly stood back up.

“Woah! Where’re you going?” Ginny cried, looking at her in confusion, while Hermione excitedly explained to Ron that not all starfish bore five arms, and that species of the genus  _ leptasterias _ had six.

“I think it’s high time I took a bath,” Ariadne replied with a smile, a plan forming in her mind even as she felt around for bumps, walking far too quickly for comfort as she strode back to the castle with purpose, heart hammering through her arms. 

“Maybe Ginny should come with you,” Ron chuckled snidely, struggling to keep up before Ginny slapped him indignantly and he reeled back into the snow with a yelp.

“Cut it out, Ron,” Ginny spat, standing over him as Ariadne stopped. “‘Adne and I are none of your business, and we don’t want it getting to that cow Rita Skeeter,” she told him, her tone deadly even as she pulled him back up.

“All right, all right,” Ron mumbled sheepishly. “It’s not like anyone’s around.”

“Bite me!” she shot, turning angrily and walking after Ariadne as Ron flinched. “Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she groaned, deflating and turning as she realized Ron hadn’t immediately started following.

“It’s okay,” he said reluctantly, grimacing half-heartedly as he started following.

“No, I-” Ginny spluttered. “Ugh. I won’t make insensitive werewolf comments if you stop making jokes about Ariadne and I,” she humorously offered.

“Deal,” Ron smirked. “But you really should be less obvious about it if you want Skeeter not to find out, you’ve got other friends you can spend money on, you know,” he added, catching up slowly and poking Ariadne’s shoulder as she blushed, remembering the drumset and paints.

\--

Ariadne tried to ignore the reality of her own body as she dipped a finger into the void of the bathtub before running the leftmost cold tap again for a few seconds to bring the temperature back down a tad, her glasses pulsing atop the bundle that was her clothes on the vanity. She’d decided she might as well take an actual bath while she was at it. Normally, she’d shower and do so without her glasses’ magic filling the cubicle, but she wasn’t used to the little bathroom off to the side of the girls’ lavatories so she didn’t want an incomplete idea of her surroundings. It wasn’t often that she fully observed her own naked form, and she was conflicted - there were definitely elements that made her wish she was capable of averting the closest thing she had to a gaze, but she also couldn’t help but be eternally satisfied to notice how her ever so slowly growing breasts had come to obfuscate each other in the shadows of her glasses’ pulses from her side.

“Ow,” Ariadne mumbled, after finding out the hard way that playfully cupping one of them up and then letting it fall back down again was, while satisfying, painful, and deciding against it, instead gently jiggling the other with a euphoric chuckle.  _ Stop being silly, we’ve got an egg to listen to _ , she thought reluctantly. Taking the allegedly golden egg from the vanity and setting it down beside the bathtub, Ariadne dipped a toe into the water before setting both legs in and sitting down in the tub, most of her body’s lit form vanishing into the void.

It had been a long time since she’d taken a proper, nice long bath, but she had to admit she wouldn’t mind taking them as much if it weren’t for her body - if nothing else it brought back pleasant memories of the first bath she’d taken that wasn’t filled with cursing and scalding water, that first day she’d spent with Miss Rosemary after being rescued from her relatives and the gentle haircut it had come after as Rosemary had assured her she was okay, gentle commentary and sweets and apple slices for being so good instead of the absence of that day’s beating from Uncle Vernon. Simpler days, when she had first been adopted and surrounded by a true family for the first time.

Ker-plunk-unk

Ariadne was thrown from her peaceful contemplations of her early life with the Grangers by a thrill of panic that shot through her spine as she sensed and heard Myrtle pop her head out of the toilet on the other side of the small room with a bubbling laugh.

“Myrtle!” she exclaimed, spinning to face her with a splash.

“Hello, Ariadne,” Myrtle replied, smiling. “Long time no  _ see _ , nobody comes into my bathroom anymore, not after they sealed it off. Ooh,  _ you’re _ coming along well,” she lamented, peering over as another thrill of shock shot through Ariadne.

Sighted people - and by extension sighted ghosts - could see through water, she remembered with a gasp as her left hand shot downward to hide her offending anatomy while she threw her right arm up to cover her chest, the left side complaining painfully as her elbow pressed onto the barely protected bud and as Myrtle giggled, swooping up to sit on the vanity, her legs dangling off as her oily form slid ever so slightly through the drawers and the egg fell into the water with a splash. Oh how she wished there were bubbles as she felt her face go scarlet. Her small breasts she was at least glad to have, but she could do without anyone ever seeing her genitals, thank you very much.

“Not that people came into my bathroom much before anyway. The Prefects’ bathrooms are so much more fun, you know,” Myrtle told her. “They’ve got this  _ really _ big set of taps with all sorts of colours, bubble bath, it’s a really big bath too. Not really a tub, more like a pool. Sometimes I run it and do laps,” she said, almost taunting Ariadne by refusing to avert her gaze. “Gonna listen to it underwater?” she asked, tilting her inky eyebrows at where the egg must have ended up below the surface of the water.

“Mhmm,” Ariadne hummed awkwardly, waiting.

“That’s what  _ he _ did. The boy, the handsome one, Cedric,” Myrtle said, almost suggestively. “It took him  _ ages _ to riddle it out. Almost  _ all _ the bubbles were gone,” she added, smiling. “He’s cute, you should have seen him,” she added with a cackling giggle. “Well go on. Open it.” Myrtle leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, her elbows on her knees.

“Um… turn-t-turn around,” Ariadne spluttered, still rigid in the strange position to cover herself.

“What for?” Myrtle asked, tilting her head.

“Because I can’t exactly open it with my knees?” Ariadne replied with a pointed scowl.

“Ugh, you’re such a prude,” Myrtle scoffed, letting her legs fall into a standing position through the vanity as she spun on the spot. “You know, you’re a tiny bit bigger than I was at your age, you should be proud.”

“But I’m shorter than you?” Ariadne mumbled questioningly as she released her arms - still keeping a mental eye on Myrtle - and began to feel around for the egg in the bottom of the bath.

“Oh that’s not what I meant,” Myrtle told her with a giggle.

“Oh.” Ariadne frowned, conflicted between what was probably a compliment and the invasion of her privacy it had required.

“Before I died, anyway. It’s funny, I don’t really have any anymore. The robes are part of me now, you see. Oh well,” Myrtle lamented, patting her front as Ariadne finally found the egg and tilted her body to bring her ear and some of her head into the water - not her nose - and found her sense partitioned. In the absolute blackness of the water, all she could sense was what little of her own core was visible through her own body. She couldn’t sense the egg, nor did her glasses’ pulsing reach into the water, and it really rather unnerved her as she felt about the shape of the contraption for its latch, the wobbling of the warm water filling her left ear as it lapped at her face.

Click

With a humming, operatic song, the egg began to sing, a far cry from the horrible wailing that had pierced their ears upon the snow-blanketed hillside only twenty minutes before.

“ _ Come seek us where our voices sound… we cannot sing above the ground, _ ” it sang beautifully, as Ariadne mulled over that.  _ We’re going to have to go down to the merpeople’s settlement in the Black Lake _ , Ariadne realized with an internal groan as she took in the darkness surrounding half her head. “ _ An hour long you’ll have to look… to recover what we took… _ ”

Ariadne spluttered and coughed as the water lapped up to her nose and she inhaled water, making her flinch back and sit up above the water again, coughing as she bowed her head back again to keep listening. Fortunately, she hadn’t missed anything as she simply heard the song repeat again. Satisfied, she brought the egg up before only dropping it again with a plunk as she’d forgotten to close it and the shrieking noise filled the bathroom, echoing horribly. After sealing it again, Ariadne carefully put it on the floor beside the bath as she thought, idly splashing water over her hair.

That poem did  _ not _ bode well for her, and she’d hoped her hunch had been incorrect. She had to swim, not only that but she had to swim far below the surface - she doubted what they were to steal from her would be on the surface, not when the merpeople had a settlement on the bottom of the Lake at one of its deepest points. Nearly a hundred metres down.

Ariadne exhaled slowly as that processed through her mind. She would most likely have to retrieve something from a hundred metres down. And as she’d just experienced, water was not a friend to her magic sense. She had to retrieve something from a hundred metres down, completely blind and lacking her usual support.

She had never gone diving. In fact, she’d barely gone swimming before. She could tread water and move along the surface, but getting her head underwater had never been an easy ask, let along  _ diving _ .

“Can I turn around again yet?” Myrtle asked petulantly, bobbing her head from side to side impatiently with her arms crossed.

“Um… can-can-can-can you-can you-can-c-c-c-c-can-can you… can you please leave?” Ariadne stammered. “It’s not-not… I’m naked, could you please at least wait outside? I need to think about this,” she quavered, maneuvering her arms to protect her dignity again.

“Fiiiine,” Myrtle whined, before phasing through the wall with a sluggish, bored expression, and a relieved Ariadne was free to let the enormity of what she’d just listened to hit her.

She had two months to learn to swim properly. She’d only ever had quite basic swimming lessons, and that had been a long time ago. Not only that, but she had to  _ find _ something, she realized as she observed the pulsing of her glasses off the vanity. They would not help her in the depths of the Black Lake.

Nor would the incredibly powerful robes she’d been given only a day ago. The dragonhide robes were  _ heavy _ , there was no way she could swim in them. Not unless she felt like  _ walking _ along the bottom of the Black Lake.

Every bone in her body told her to evade it somehow. To run, not to participate. To do everything she could, just to never to have to go  _ near _ the Black Lake. But Ginny’s voice echoed in her mind, taking her book from her on the Common Room sofa months before.  _ I know you just want to sit here and read, but you’re shutting down and we can’t let that happen, not now _ .  _ You need to start practicing _ .

She’d be damned if she made Ginny intervene again. Much as her mind was screaming in terror, she knew. She had to face this, head on, with her friends by her side, she realized as she toweled off her frizzy hair, the plughole squealing with the draining water.

_ Analyze the situation _ , she thought, pulling her clothes back on and stepping out of the bathroom, resolute as she carried the purple, orange and blue glowing egg back to the Common Room.  _ Analyze the situation, and make a strategy. You’re  _ supposed  _ to have a plan this time. Get to work. _

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So me sister suggested a thing, what would folks think of a Discord server? Maybe not a dedicated KG one, but a writing one at least. Gods knows you folks love theorizing, so it might be fun, and I could maybe make some folks channels to share their own fun stories and characters.  
> That mention of a bath and haircut were actually a reference to something my sister and I (who edited the early chapters before they got very busy and I upped my output dramatically) were thinking of doing which was inbetween-chapter slices of life. Between chapters 2 and 3 were going to be 3 scenes - one where Ariadne woke up and doubted whether she was actually there and broke something accidentally, and was happy to be treated nicely, one where Rosemary gave her a haircut and the third where she was given a bath. The latter two were never written, but we did write a draft of the first.


	133. Assignment Brief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Golden Egg decoded, the New Marauders go about making a plan for the Second Task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve started a writing Discord! It’s not just for KG, but there’s a chat for it: https://discord.gg/vUSZrSeqaV  
> TW: Dysphoria (sort of)

“ _ OW _ !” Ron cried, falling to the floor suddenly with an agonized look on his face as the others jumped. “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow owwwwwwwwwww,” he groaned, clutching at his right thigh as his cane clattered to the ground in the corridor.

“Woah! Are you-” Hermione exclaimed, dropping a book she was holding.

“I’m fine!” Ron cut her off, grimacing, his voice hoarse. “Ow… cramp.”

“Really is his time of the month huh,” Ginny laughed, eliciting a snort from Hermione. “Hey ‘Adne, he stole your periods.”

“He can keep ‘em,” Ariadne chuckled as Hermione helped the boy up. “You good?” she asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Ron groaned, grimacing as he rocked on his feet gently. “Library, come on,” he grumbled, detaching himself from the arm Hermione had offered and wobbling on the cane as they continued making their way to the library. The castle was mercifully quiet that day, as even a number of the students who’d remained for the Yule Ball had departed to spend the rest of their holidays with their families that morning and most others seemed to be taking advantage of Boxing Day sales in Hogsmeade. The library meanwhile seemed to be for the most part deserted, occupied only by the occasional older student getting books out to keep studying for their exams. Gladly, this left the space relaxing for the tense planning they needed to do as Ron gratefully crashed down onto a bench while Hermione scattered parchment around and sat down beside him.

“All right, so, tell it to me again,” Hermione said, poised with a pen as Ariadne slid down onto the other side of the table with Ginny.

“ _ Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground _ ,” Ariadne recited, as Hermione began scratching away in mundane ink. “ _ An hour long you’ll have to look, to recover what we took _ .”

“Well  _ that’s  _ hardly cryptic,” Hermione said. “Looking for something in the Black Lake, most likely obstacles being the wildlife. So. Problem one: breathing, you’re going to be down there for an hour.”

“Want me to go check over there?” Ron asked, pointing his thumb to the shelves on the other end of the library.

“No, stay,” Hermione said reflexively, as if chiding a dog, to a spluttering snort from Ginny. “Problem two: swimming. When was the last time you swam, ‘Adne?”

“Remus’ obstacle course,” Ariadne replied sheepishly, as Hermione winced.

“All right. So, we need to figure out a way for you to breathe, and practice swimming like your life depends on it,” Hermione concluded.

“It  _ does _ ,” Ron mumbled, as Ariadne spluttered anxiously.

“Pro-pp-p-p-problm-problem three: can’t see,” she added, remembering how her sense had gone dark as soon as she’d put half her head beneath the bathwater.

“Oh  _ fuck _ , you can’t sense anything underwater can you?!” Ginny exclaimed, spinning to her with a jump in her magic and panic on her face as Ariadne shook her head.

“Oh shit…” Ron murmured. “Can we like, fix your eyes or something, even just for the Task?” he asked, as Ariadne shook her head.

“Only as an  _ absolute _ last resort,” Ariadne replied shakily.

“What, why last resort?” Ron asked.

“We don’t know what it would  _ do _ to me,” Ariadne explained. “I mean, it might be fine,  _ or _ I might lose my magic sense completely. Plus, I haven’t been able to see since I was… three? I think it’d take longer than an hour to get used to it enough to go looking for something.”

“Oh god…” Hermione mumbled, writing it down. “Okay… okay…” she murmured, wringing her hands as she tilted her head thoughtfully. 

“Plus, um, Madam Pomfrey said trying it would hurt when they went back to normal,” Ariadne added quietly.

“So, restoring sight… not a good idea, not even temporarily,” Hermione recited as she wrote something down. “Okay, so, problem three: water exists. Ginny, you check the Aquatic Magic section to find a way for her to breathe, and I’ll… I’ll go see about finding a way for Ariadne to get to the bottom of the lake  _ without going underwater _ ,” Hermione said hesitantly, stepping past Ron.

“What shall I do?” Ron asked eagerly, struggling to stand up before Hermione laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Rest,” Hermione said sternly.

“But I wanna help!” Ron whined pointedly.

“What have I said about the puppy-dog eyes? You can barely  _ stand _ right now.  _ Sit _ ,” Hermione told him, as he grumbled and complied. “Stay. You can help by going through the books  _ we _ find, okay?”

“Need me?” Ariadne asked, hesitantly standing.

“Er… it’ll go quicker if I just bring books of interest over, I think you said trying to read the titles vertically is a hassle?” Ariadne nodded. “I’ll grab some books and bring them over and go straight back, okay? You might as well keep him company anyway,” Hermione told her, tilting her head toward Ron. They’d found that he tended to get mild separation anxiety if he was left alone, which was only more so the case around the full moon.

“Okay,” Ariadne said quietly, as Ginny ruffled her hair affectionately before walking quickly away, as did Hermione, leaving Ariadne to wait tensely.

“Hmph, you were right. Better me than you, this’d be easier if it was me,” Ron laughed, as Ariadne frowned at him. “I’m great at finding things. Wonder what it would have done to your eyes if  _ you  _ got, er, this,” he mused, waving a hand at himself.

“How does it affect  _ your  _ eyes?” Ariadne asked, fiddling with some of the parchment Hermione had left.

“It’s weird, I can see really good in the dark,” Ron replied. “It’s like… things that  _ were _ solid black aren’t anymore, they’re all grey instead. And it’s like more’s in focus than before, I can see more-” Ron suddenly looked out the window. “Pffffff. And I can see movement easier, there was a bird,” he chuckled. “Do kinda go colourblind around now though, the red in your tie looks almost orange.”

“Hmm…” Ariadne thought, considering what were probably the internal changes to his eyes - canine colour vision had two cones rather than the human three, he was probably experiencing a partial conversion between them. “I’d probably just be able to tell between night and day again, if you’re more photosensitive. I could tell if it was day or night when Mum and Dad adopted me, but I can’t anymore. It wouldn’t affect the actual surface.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cos your eyes are all… splssshhh, kinda melted on the outside?” Ron said, making a squelching noise and bringing his hands together like a curtain.

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied. “That’s why it’d hurt to transfigure them,” she added, as Ron winced.

“Wait, what about a Switching spell?” Ron asked, as Ariadne folded up a paper fan and started batting it at him. “Oi, no, it’s winter, I’m good. This is just a t-shirt,” he protested, pinching up the material Ariadne had thought was a jumper. “What if we gave you  _ my _ eyes? Wait, no, same problem with you not being used to it, bollocks. That’d be  _ worse _ .”

“And it might not be a good idea to do Switching spells with you anyway,” Ariadne pointed out. “It’d be in your  _ blood _ .”

“Oh… would be, wouldn’t it?” he grumbled, leaning back. “Eurgh. How’d Remus ever learn them?”

“All right, here’s a few interesting ones,” Hermione announced as Ariadne shrugged, coming around with a stack of six books. “I’m thinking we figure out a way for you to either  _ walk _ along the seabed in a bubble,  _ or _ we figure out a way for you to find whatever they take without diving and dive down directly above it, minimize how much being blind will hamper you. The water-shaping spell in this should be helpful, have a look,” she added, handing Ariadne one of them.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” Ariadne muttered, pointing her wand into it and putting it down beside the book as she flipped through the pages. “What do you mean find it without diving?” she asked, frowning as Ron tugged one to himself.

“I mean if you were able to use a spell to reveal whatever it is they steal’s  _ location _ , you could swim to a position directly above it and dive from  _ there _ ,” Hermione explained, waving her arms enthusiastically as she partially mimicked it and partially stimmed. “And if that spell works, you could just find the right spot, go down like an elevator and come back up again. Even if it doesn’t, it cuts the distance you’d need to travel blind down from having to search a dozen square miles to maybe eighty metres in one direction and back,” she added.

“Like a compass?” Ariadne asked, still paring through the pages and truly facing neither them nor her sister.

“Yes! I’m going to see if I can find a spell like that, I’ll be back!” Hermione exclaimed, bobbing away faster than Ariadne knew Madam Pince tolerated, while Ariadne found the spell she’d told her about.

“Okay…” Ariadne muttered. “ _ The Hydrokinesis - or Water-Morphing, or Water-Moulding - Spell, incantation  _ figuraquae _ , was first devised quite early in wizarding history, and many versions of this practice have existed through the years. _ ”

\--

“You three go down to Hogsmeade, I’ll go get my notes from second year,” Hermione called, splitting off from them to a bewildered Ron as they rounded the corner to the entrance hall. “How the whole wizarding world has never made a  _ compass _ spell, let alone a tracker that would be useful to Ariadne, is beyond me, but it can’t possibly be that hard. When you get back we can put together a spell brief,” she added, beginning toward the staircase.

“Hollup!” Ron called, half-jogging over to her with a pained expression. “I might as well go straight to Hagrid’s after, it’ll be about time, so er, g’night,” he said awkwardly, offering a hug. 

“Have fun?” Hermione said with a face, as Ron snorted slightly, lowering his arms - Hermione wasn’t in a touchy mood, it seemed.

“I’ll try. Sleep well ‘Mione,” he said, before returning to the others and waving to the departing Granger, who disappeared up the stairs as they left. The snow had become heavier since their morning excursion, and Ron continually batted flakes away from his face with his free hand as they approached the covered bridge. Ginny and Ariadne were bundled up to the nines, chins buried in scarves and the thick jumpers Molly had made adorning them - Ginny had wanted to swap, but Ariadne had said no - but Ron was just wearing jeans, the long sleeved shirt he’d worn and a thin hoodie, and yet Ariadne’s fingers were shuddering from the cold while Ginny wore boots with a fuzzy lining and an eternally adorable hat with a poof on the top.

“So we need to get one with-” Ginny began, before being cut off by a familiar voice and magical core ahead of them.

“Hey Granger!” Cedric called, waving as he walked back along the windy bridge. “Granger!”

“Hey Cedric,” Ariadne called back as they got closer. “How’re you doing?”

“Pretty well,” he replied, half-jogging to a halt. “How, um, how’re you?”

“Brilliant,” Ariadne replied. “What’s up?”

“Look I… I realized I never really thanked you properly for tipping me off about those dragons,” he told her gently, leaning down a little and speaking quietly. Ariadne shrugged.

“You’d have done the same for me, forget about it,” she replied, smiling.

“Exactly!” Cedric spluttered. “You know the Prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not a bad place for a bath,” Cedric told her, leaning closer to her ear and remaining even quieter.

“Oh-oh, this this about-bouth-the-both-boutthe-bouthe-boutthe egg?” Ariadne spluttered. “We figured it out this morning.”

“Oh, same,” Cedric said. “You’re really onto it, huh?”

“Yes, we’re just heading to Hogsmeade to get ‘Adne a swimsuit,” Ginny replied with a smile.

“You don’t have one?” Cedric asked, frowning. Ariadne shook her head. “I’d better let you go then, otherwise the shops’ll close. See you!” he told them, before giving Ron a bewildered look. “Aren’t you cold, Weasley?” Ron jumped ever so slightly before shrugging dismissively.

“I’m good in the cold,” Ron told him with a wry smile.

“Huh. Wish that was me, have fun guys!” Cedric mused, before waving to them and making his cloaked way back to the castle.

“Are you seriously not cold?” Ginny asked quizzically as they reached the lawn path down to the village. “You’re not even- you’re not even wearing thick socks!” she exclaimed.

“I’ve got a high meta… metabo-whatsit,” Ron replied, waving a hand expectantly at Ariadne to complete the word.

“Metabolism,” Ariadne told him, not even turning to face him.

“Metabolism, that thing. It’s one of the things Remus told me about, I’m warmer than a human,” he said, pointing to her gratefully. “ _ Sucks _ in summer, and I gotta eat more,” he added glumly, chewing on his necklace in the side of his mouth.

“Now I’m wishing  _ you _ were the werewolf, he must give great hugs,” Ginny lamented, nudging Ariadne affectionately with her shoulder.

“That can be arranged,” Ariadne snorted, to a grimace from Ron. “I’m-I’m-ki-kiki-I’m kidding, Ron.”

“That’s okay,” he scoffed. “You know as well as I do I’d never even consider it. C’mon, let’s get you a swimsuit before it gets dark and Red ruins a little boutique like a bull in a china shop.” Snorting even though she knew they had well over a few hours before that was even slightly a risk - and that even if he did change in Hogsmeade, he’d be completely harmless, his lycanthropy having gone chalky to signify he’d already taken his potion - Ariadne picked up the pace as much as Ron’s clicking knees allowed, the snow crunching beneath their feet as they approached the main square of Hogsmeade.

Annoyingly, it was downright impossible to  _ find _ swimsuits, particularly not within the budget of Ginny - who’d insisted she pay since Ariadne was out of allowance pocket money due to buying her Cleansweep broom and would be until her parents sent her 2008’s allowance on New Years - and it took them well over an hour to even find which stores sold them. Spellmart was a relatively tiny cheap retail store compared to the non-magical counterparts Ariadne had been to, but it had a small selection of swimwear.

The first bottoms she’d shiveringly tried had been an immediate no, as had eighty percent of all the rest by virtue of it being impossible for them not to suffer the same problem - anything that showed the shape of her crotch was out of the question, let alone anything she couldn’t even wear because of it. She was  _ not _ about to stand in front of a crowd like that, her cheeks blazing as she explained the problem to an understanding Ginny. Ginny had even been about to suggest just finding a spell to camouflage her girlfriend’s anatomy, going so far as offering to use a Switching spell, before Ron had wordlessly dug out something from the back of the rack, which was effectively just a waterproof pair of boyleg cut panties with a skirt attached. After awkwardly slurring through half the words involved in asking the probably underpaid shelf stocker if there was a pair in a size up, she declared herself satisfied with it and went on to find a comfortable top that, to her delight even if she didn’t mention it, excellently clung to her developing chest. Ariadne wasn’t sure about how it left a gap showing her tummy, but it was acceptable, and from the brief glimpse she’d allowed Ginny, her girlfriend approved. The colours apparently didn’t match, the skirt in black and the top in red, but she didn’t mind - it wasn’t as if  _ she _ could tell, and her comfort was all she really cared about. At least they were in Gryffindor colours.

“Least it’s good snow and not slush like it was last moon,” Ron mused as they gathered their way up the hill back toward Hogwarts.

“Is Red a fan of snow?” Ariadne asked warmly, smiling to him. Ron sniffed amusedly.

“Both are,” he replied, playfully kicking a foot through a drift of powder and sending blue points flowing through the air, more appearing as the pulses of her glasses caught what hadn’t been on the surface. “Wonder if I can make a snowman with paws.”

“Good luck,” Ginny snorted as they broke the treeline and Hagrid’s hut came into view. “Off ya go, wolfboy.”

“G’night guys,” Ron said, quickly hugging them each and proving that he did indeed give good hugs thanks to his eternal internal warmth. “Say g’night to Hermione for me would ya?” he added, waving to them as they ascended the hill, fingers intertwined as Ron sidled off toward the house.

\--

> **_Acciopharum [subject]_ **
> 
> _ Should produce a magical beacon measuring at least one hundred metres tall from the point of the location of the subject. Acciopharum should make use of the pre-existing locational ability of the Accio spell, but instead of pulling the subject to the caster (as this is unlikely to be possible), would create a beacon to draw Ariadne to it. _
> 
> _ The beacon should, ideally, be invisible to sighted people, to allow it to be an accessibility aid for Ariadne and not to be an unfair advantage to the other Champions. _

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today,” Hermione sighed, rolling up the absolute havoc that was the parchment that covered the table as Ariadne’s watch beeped to announce it was eleven o’clock. “Got a lot of work done. Do you want to try swimming and the Water-Moulding spell in the Black Lake tomorrow?” she asked, to a frown from Ariadne, as she and Ginny sat beside each other on the sofa. “We also need to get to work on this, we’ve only got two months to make it.”

“The Black Lake is frozen over,” Ariadne reminded her. “Ice takes magic, water doesn’t,” she explained. “We’ll have to wait until it melts to practice swimming.”

“Maybe start the shaping one in the bath?” Ginny suggested, pointing over her shoulder to the bathroom with her thumb. “Could maybe test the… Bubble Head charm too?” Ariadne shook her head.

“If I can’t master the Bubble Head in two months then there’s no point - it’s too much of a risk. If it pops underwater, I drown, no two ways about it,” Ariadne replied. “If I can use  _ figuraquae _ to bring a big bubble of air down with me, it shouldn’t be necessary.”

“What if  _ that _ fails?” Ginny asked, a slightly scared look on her face as she turned to her.

“I’d-I’d have enough breath and warning to cast  _ ascendio _ and surface quickly before I’m in any danger.” Ariadne yawned. “I think I’ll go to bed, g’night Gin,” she murmured, before making her way up to the dorm with Hermione. Satisfied it had been an incredibly productive day, Ariadne found her way to sleep, a canopy of twinkling points of  _ lumos _ light above her, and disturbing dreams of the sound of water filling her mind accompanied her into the night.

She’d just have to find out in the morning if Red had indeed been capable of putting together a snowman with his paws.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Between you all in the comments of the last chapter, you figured out her plan in advance! Clever clogs.


	134. Impending Grade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne prepares for the second Task, but not all goes as well as she’d hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’ll see the return of the old time-skipping chapters. Not much of consequence happens until the Task to justify a whole chapter, so ye. ‘Twas slowed down by hyperfixation on other things xD

**January 13th, 2005**

“Hey!” Ariadne exclaimed, as Ginny sent a wave of frigid water crashing over her with a splash, giggling uncontrollably in the void that was the thawed - yet still really rather cold - Great Lake. The _Vulchanova_ floated imperiously a ways away, as Hermione waited on the bank, happily chatting with Viktor beside where Ariadne’s glasses pulsed out over the lake. Ron had enthusiastically joined them, shivering but clearly having fun as he paddled past the girls with a smirk. “There!” she cried, batting her hands into the water to send a wave at Ginny, who flinched and tried to swim away. “Even.”

“Just put your head underwater would you,” Ron cackled half-heartedly. “You can do it!” he cheered.

“Yeah!” Ginny added. “Come on, I’ll do it with you,” she said gently, as Ariadne grimaced. As far as practicing swimming was going, she’d made immense progress since their brief tries in the cavernous Prefect’s bathroom just after Christmas to the approval of Myrtle - Cedric had given them the password. However, they’d moved to the Lake in the belief that it was best for Ariadne to get used to swimming in water that wasn’t pleasantly warm and didn’t smell of flowers. Every nerve in her body was shivering, and she knew she needed to warm up as soon as they were done else she risk frostbite, but the practice helped as she treaded water to stay afloat.

Ginny had also been immensely entertained by the fact that her girlfriend had initially been imitating Ron’s doggy-paddle as best she could, but she’d started to lean more into a breaststroke since and the giggles, while endearing, were undeserved.

Actually putting her head underwater, with just over a month left on the clock, hadn’t been easy, however.

“Ready?” Ginny asked softly, wading over in the shallows. “I know you don’t like it, but you do have to learn,” she said gently, Ariadne feeling the hand below the water brush against her arm. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” Ginny offered, to a vigorous nod and immediately intertwined fingers from Ariadne, the void lapping against her chin and enveloping the lower half of her sense already, save only for her magical core, what of it she could sense through her own body, and mirroring the dark sky. “You can go as slow as you like. Three… two… one…” Ginny counted, squeezing Ariadne’s hand before Ariadne took a deep breath of freezing air and let the water slide up her chin and up to her lower lip. “Good, good, you’re doing good,” Ginny assured her as Ariadne shook in both anxiety and an abysmally low temperature.

More and more of her world went dark, even Ginny’s core now invisible to her as she tilted her head to let her left cheek become submerged. Above, the partially lit head of her girlfriend nodded encouragingly as she brought her own head level again, her upper lip beneath the water, at least a third of the visible world invisible to her.

Taking another deep breath, Ariadne let the incredibly cold waterline dip above her nostrils, her earlobes complaining as her hair wafted out, the water approaching her eyelids as her lungs screamed at her to breathe again, to surface and breathe.

With the warbling, bubbling roar of the Black Lake, the top of her head passed under the water. Her world was darkness, her only reassurance being the hand wrapped in hers, the hands she could only feel and not sense as she heard Ginny plunge down beside her. The only colours were her own, the sliver she could sense through her neck.

But love alone was not sufficient to refill her lungs, as instinct took over and she lunged upward, inhaling water in her rush to return to breathable air, as the blue-pulsed shape of the _Vulchanova_ and the cliffs, Hogwarts and Ginny exploded back into her mind, coughing and spluttering as Ginny’s other hand took hold of her back under the water.

“You’re good, you’re good, well done!” Ginny cried as Ariadne spat out a mouthful of frigid water and Ron cheered. “You wanna try again?” Ariadne shook her head, still spitting out water as sheets of it dripped off her face and out of her soaked hair. “All right then, we’ll come back out tomorrow, yeah? Let’s go get you dried off,” she asked, wading over as Ariadne coughed up the last drops of water from her mouth and began to follow, leaning forward toward the bank and pushing her tired arms forward to scoop the water around her and swim to the bank. Ron splashed chaotically a few metres away, before they got to a point where it was shallow enough for her to stand and sluggishly drag her soaked form from the water.

“That was good, well done!” Hermione called as she chucked Ginny a towel and brought another over to Ariadne. “How do you feel?”

“G-ggg-good,” Ariadne shivered, fumbling with the towel and hurriedly rubbing it into her hair as Ron stepped up onto the bank and with inhuman speed shook the lake water out of his now frizzy hair, somehow only slightly shivering despite his togs being composed of a pair of shorts.

“What happened to _you_?” Krum asked with a tinge of worry combined with awe as he approached Ron with a frown on his face.

“Oh, oh, um, I climbed a lot of trees as a kid,” Ron lied, hurriedly wrapping himself in a towel to cover his arms and torso. Krum had only joined Hermione later, and hadn’t seen the boy get into the water. Apparently there was a reason Ron didn’t often wear short sleeves or anything with a low neckline anymore - the scar across the left side of his nose was not the only one he bore from his bloody first full moon, just the only visible one.

“Can’t have gotten very good at it!” Viktor scoffed, making Ron huff in amusement. Having watched Ron climb a tree in the prior six months, Ariadne knew that his newfound strength when combined with his wiry frame had only made him exceptional at it.

“ _Calefacto_ ,” Ariadne muttered, plucking her wand from the stone Hermione had been sitting on and letting the green wave waft over her and suffuse her in comforting warmth and what felt like a slight burst of steam. “Gin. _Calefacto_ ,” she said, swishing her wand over to Ginny with an identical green wave.

“Ahhh, thanks ‘Adne,” Ginny sighed, as Ariadne wrapped herself in her cloak. “Brrrrr. C’mon, let’s go back inside,” she ushered, pulling on her fluffy boots as Viktor waved to them and continued his run along the beach, before the four of them ran back to the castle, feet slapping against the stone and snowy ground, towels flapping about their legs.

\--

“Hang on, what if we take _that_ equation, and move it into _this_ section?” Ariadne suggested, standing over the parchment-littered table intently and pointing, not needing to look down intently with her hair flailing about the way Hermione did. “The way it’s set up now, it’s calculating the altitude for the beacon before it even finds the subject, that’s why it was upside down last time we tested it.” Hermione frowned intently, pulling the parchment over and studying it intently before groaning.

“Ugh… I’m sorry, it was three in the morning when I made that,” Hermione mumbled, wringing her hands.

“It’s okay, I’ll get it,” Ariadne assured her, pulling the parchments over to herself and sitting down.

“Checkmate!” Ron declared, as Ginny groaned in defeat over the small table they’d commandeered and the chess board upon it.

“I need to learn to stop playing you at new moon,” Ginny whispered. Luckily, the Common Room was almost always deserted at that hour, which had left the largest table open for Ariadne and Hermione to litter it with notes, books and inkwells, a maze of magical ink glaring out at Ariadne.

“You saying you need me laid out and incapacitated to beat me?” Ron chuckled snidely.

“I’m not taking that bait,” Ginny laughed, getting up and waving him off as he began packing away the pieces. As he picked up the pieces however, he frowned and spoke in unison with Ariadne, who’d noticed Hermione’s core shuffling more and more anxiously.

“You okay, Hermione?” they both asked in unison, as Ron stood and came over gently. Hermione didn’t reply, instead only intensifying her hand motions, going from simple wringing to waving her arms together and away again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Ron murmured, as Ariadne stopped what she was doing to turn. “Lemme guess, you realized you made a mistake and now you can’t stop stressing about it?” he asked, to an embarrassed nod from the bushy-haired girl, who didn’t look at him. “It’s okay, look, it’s being fixed. You were tired and it’s not that bad, see?” he assured her, pointing over as she continued her fretting movement, and giving Ariadne a look, wordlessly telling her to get back to it. Realizing Ron had it under control and that the best thing to do would be to correct the problem and assure Hermione the correction worked properly, she dipped her pen into the glowing inkwell and kept writing. “Um…” Ron floundered a bit, before grabbing a cup and swooping his wand off the table. “ _Aguamenti_ ,” he whispered, filling it with water. “There, have a drink, you’ve been at it for hours.” Hermione nodded mutely, taking the cup in both hands and rocking on her heels as she quietly drank. Thinking back, Hermione had definitely been neglecting her own needs in her concentration on the work, and that always made her easily stressed.

“Thanks,” Ariadne murmured, relying on Ron’s exceptional hearing, to a brief nod from him.

“Do you want to sit down, or stay standing?” Ron asked gently, tilting slightly to indicate the couch. Hermione nodded and swiftly sat down, still holding the cup in both hands and wiggling one of her feet. “I’ll get you a hot water bottle, yeah?” he added, before whispering something to Hermione, who nodded awkwardly. As Ron walked off to the kitchenette area of the Common Room, Ginny took a seat to examine Ariadne’s work.

“So how does this all work?” Ginny asked curiously, tracing a glowing circle with her finger.

“Hmm?” Ariadne looked up. “Oh, er, this is a bit of a bodge spell,” she admitted sheepishly, continuing to write even though she was facing Ginny. “We-we-we have-we haven’t really got time to make it properly, so we’ve cannibalized _Accio_ , which is what you’ve got there, for its location components.” Ginny was looking at her weirdly, a lopsided smirk on her face. “What?” she asked, worriedly.

“I love how you can keep writing while you’re looking at me,” Ginny laughed, mimicking Ariadne with a blank look upward as she waved an imaginary pen across an imaginary book as Ariadne felt herself go red and stopped. “So what’re you working on now, if you’ve already got the tracking stuff from _accio_ , I mean, you can see that can’t you?”

“Something that’ll make it easier to tell what direction to go in,” Ariadne replied. “The locator component only goes until it’s found, then it vanishes, so we’re scripting something to-b-that becomes a beacon and lasts for ten minutes which it’ll put wherever the thing is,” she explained.

“Oh okay, so you can just cast it and boom, big arrow that says _swim down for stolen thing_?” Ginny asked, to a nod.

“Pretty much,” Ariadne nodded. “All right… _ratumfacio_ ,” she said, updating the spell with a blue wave before standing and hurrying up the stairs and to the landing the dorms shared, a bewildered Ginny following.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked as Ariadne strode to the window between the two doors and opened it, the wind blowing both of their hair aside and snowflakes pattered their faces faster than Ariadne’s glasses had a chance to illuminate them.

“Testing it,” Ariadne replied, holding her wand out of the window. “ _Acciopharum_ Professor Hagrid’s house,” she said, prompting a warbling arm to shoot from her wand and out across the castle and through a number of walls before, through the static of the snow caught by her glasses, a thin blue beam of light shot out in the distance, scraping into the sky through a fog of light flakes. Ginny gently pushed her way into the window, searching out.

“Nothing happened?” she pointed out quizzically.

“Nothing _you_ can see,” Ariadne replied, tapping her temple with a smug smile. “It’s invisible _but_ it’s magic, sooo…”

“So _you_ can sense it!” Ginny finished. “So _you_ get a big arrow to what you’ve got to find, but Cedric, Viktor and Fleur _don’t_?” Ariadne nodded. “You’re cute when you’re being clever,” she marvelled affectionately with a hum.

“It’s not _that_ clever,” Ariadne protested, even as she flushed at the praise, a wide smile flitting across her face. “It’s just-”

“What have I said about you and making spells?” Ginny chided, poking her nose. “It’s clever.”

“Okay, fine, it’s clever,” Ariadne relented, starting on her way back down to the Common Room. “Doesn’t mean I’m a genius or anything, I still need to figure out that water-moulding spell.”

\--

**23 February 2005, 10:23 PM**

**Eleven hours and thirty-seven minutes until the Second Task**

“ _Figuraquae!_ ” Ariadne desperately yelled into the Prefect’s bathtub, a wave of orange magic propagating outward as she screwed up her eyes and concentrated on reshaping the water as she tentatively stepped toward it. And yet, the void of the water did not form a bubble around her in such a way to allow her to place her foot onto the steps without getting soaked. All three of the girls were stressed, having left Ron in the dormitory, unwilling to take him with them at such a late hour so close to the full moon. Hermione was pacing obsessively, and had been for the last hour of continual attempts.

She had known that the water-moulding spell was a mistake from the moment she’d read the description, but now all she could do was wish she hadn’t stubbornly tried onward for it. Picturing the shape of water and altering it was not exactly in her toolbox given she _couldn’t sense the shape of the water_. All it was to her was a featureless void. The best she could do was to imagine a flat plane, but that only got her so far before the spell failed because of how inaccurate that was - and again, the orange wave sputtered and died, what little of the water had moved splashing back to cover the stonework with a crash.

“This isn’t working,” Ginny said shakily, clutching at air aimlessly. “Okay, um… We need to find another way, we’re not going to get this in time and get you any sleep, and _no_ , you are _not_ staying up until the Task, you need to sleep.”

“Wh-whwhwhw-wha-wha-what-what-whatdo-whatdoyou-whatdoyou-... What do you suggest then?!” Ariadne exclaimed, running her hands through her hair and meeting approximately two hundred tangles.

“She can’t just go down there _blind_!” Hermione cried. “Even if we can figure out breathing, she won’t be able to find anything!” Ariadne felt sick. She was caught between both realities - she most definitely could not simply dive to find something blind, but nor could she honestly say she’d have the water-moulding spell mastered by morning, let alone quickly enough to get any sleep.

 _Analyze the situation_ , she thought frantically. _Analyze the situation, analyze the situation_.

“Let’s go to the library and see what we can find,” Ginny said, gathering up her bag. “If we can find anything useful, we’ll see if ‘Adne can at least get something else working, it’ll be better than this is going.”

“Yeah, we-w-w-w-ww-w-w-e--we-we-we can try the um, the the the… the bubble one, maybe that’ll work?” Ariadne suggested weakly.

“Come on,” Ginny said, starting out of the bathroom. “I’ll find that same book for you, and then we can look for other ways to breathe underwater, or for ways to not need to,” she said anxiously, as Ariadne and Hermione followed her from the bathroom.

“That’s called drowning,” Ariadne said dryly, unbidden thoughts of what was bound to happen the next morning filling her mind before Ginny’s arms slammed onto her shoulders.

“Don’t even joke about that, Ariadne,” Ginny told her, breathing heavily with fear in her face, which was inches from Ariadne’s own. “You are _not_ drowning tomorrow. I can’t lose you like that.” Hermione shook her head in agreement, as Ginny’s hands moved to cup Ariadne’s cheeks. “I love you, and I am _not_ letting that happen,” she whispered, before for the briefest of moments, her lips were on Ariadne’s with a smacking sound before she drew back. “Now let’s make sure it doesn’t.” With that, Ginny grabbed Ariadne’s hand and veritably tugged her away, leading the Grangers to what would normally have been their favourite room in the castle. Within five minutes, Ariadne was sitting at a table, her wand out as her girlfriend and sister watched her intently as she held up her wand, a stack of books they’d accumulated sitting beside them in case the Bubble-Head charm didn’t work out for the exhausted Champion.

“ _Bullapitis!_ ” Ariadne exclaimed, rotating her wand at her nose to feel an orange wave accumulate around her face for a moment, before the tiniest of popping noises shattered the orange bubble that had briefly formed.

“Try again!” Ginny urged, leaning forward. Ariadne nodded.

“ _Bullapitis!_ ” Again, an orange bubble formed over her nose and mouth, before vanishing again with a tiny impression of moisture. “Ugh. _Bullapitis!_ ” Once more, the bubble popped.

“Maybe it’s popping because of the atmospheric pressure being different to what it’s designed for? If you tried it as you got in-” Hermione suggested.

“No, it’s-it’s designed to be cast in air,” Ariadne replied, pointing into the book that had long since gone dark to her save for the actual shape from her glasses. “ _Bullapitis!_ ” As the bubble popped yet again, Hermione grimaced and tugged one of the books to herself, magic jumping anxiously as Ariadne kept trying.

“All right, you keep trying and we’ll look for alternatives. Maybe extending your lung capacity so you _can_ just hold your breath for long enough?” Hermione suggested, looking up from the book she’d grabbed.

“Human transfiguration is dangerous,” Ariadne said emotionlessly, remembering what Madam Pomfrey had said. “ _Bullapitis!_ Ugh. _Bullapitis!_ ”

“But it _is_ transfiguration, and you’re good at that!” Hermione reminded her as she leaned away from a wobbling stack of magically hovering books. “But you’re right, it looks like an advanced spell and I’ll be honest, even I wouldn’t trust you with it after one night, not on my lungs _or_ your own. Ugh, _Lumos_.” Ariadne sighed and took a heavy breath, trying to relax as she ponderously held her wand to point at her face.

“ _Bullapitis_ ,” she said gently, the bubble at least lasting a split second longer than it had previously. This was never going to work. She’d be better off using the water-moulding spell, there was no way she’d master the Bubble-Head Charm.

“We’ll figure it out, ‘Adne,” Ginny assured her, rubbing Ariadne’s thigh gently. “Just keep practicing.”

“Hate to break up the skull session,” Professor Moody said, breaking Ariadne from her concentration as his green-glowing form stepped out from behind a bookshelf, making Hermione and Ginny jump. “Professor McGonagall would like to see you in her office.” Sighing fearfully, Ariadne started to stand. “Not you, Granger. Just your sister and Weasley.”

“But sir!” Hermione protested. “The second task is only hours away, and Ari-” she cried, her expression panicked as her magical core fluctuated.

“Exactly,” Moody cut her off. “Presumably Ariadne is well-prepared by now and could do with a good night’s sleep,” he told her dryly. “Go.” Hermione and Ginny didn’t move. “ _Now_.” Hermione jumped, flailing her hands as she almost dropped the book she was holding and hurriedly put it on the table.

“We’ll try to be quick,” Ginny promised her, kissing the top of Ariadne’s head before she shuffled out of the little book-filled aisle and took Hermione with her, the sounds of their footfalls jogging out of the library. Screwing up her eyes and trying to wrestle her mind back into concentration, Ariadne raised her wand again.

“No, the library is closing. Go to bed, Granger,” Moody snapped authoritatively. Ariadne sighed fearfully, before reluctantly putting her wand back in her pocket. She’d have to go practice in the dorm, she thought as she sluggishly closed the relevant book and put it onto the pile of books. Madam Pince wouldn’t let her get it out at this hour, she couldn’t take it with her. She’d just have to hope there was nothing more she needed to know. “Longbottom!” Moody barked, calling Neville from a few shelves down, as he clattered over and Ariadne realized Moody had been staring at her. “Why don’t you help Granger put her books back?” he suggested, before turning and limping away, as Neville put down a foot-thick book on the table.

“You know, if you’re interested in plants, you’d be better off with _Goshawk’s Guide to Herbology_ ,” Neville said, bewildering Ariadne. Was he trying to help or distract her? “D’you know, there’s a wizard… in Nepal! Who’s growing gravity-resistant-”

“Neville, that doesn’t help,” Ariadne snapped impatiently. “Unless there’s some kind of plant that will allow me… to…” Ariadne’s mind exploded. “ _GILLYWEED!_ ” she downright yelled, leaping to her feet and gaping at the boy. “ _You’ve got a crop of Gillyweed, haven’t you?!_ ” she exclaimed. A plant that would allow her to breathe underwater.

“Um, yeah, why?” Neville replied, frowning quizzically at her sudden change of attitude.

“I need to breathe underwater,” Ariadne murmured, to another frown. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I need to breathe underwater.”

“For the Task?!” Neville exclaimed.

“Yes! Um… can-can-can I-can I-can I-can I have it?!” Ariadne asked hurriedly, anxious to be asking but in the knowledge it was practically the only viable option she’d been supplied with.

“Um… I mean, I don’t have much,” Neville said. “It didn’t fare well over winter and-”

“I don’t care, I just need enough to breathe underwater for an hour tops, whatever I can get,” Ariadne cut him off, still shuddering anxiously.

“I’ll harvest it at sunrise, before ten yeah?” Neville said, clearly thinking on his feet, relief flooding through Ariadne.

“Oh my god you’re a lifesaver, Neville!” Ariadne cried, impulsively hugging the incredibly tall boy. “Quite litera-lit-liter-le-literally!”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shall return after a few days for the Second Task and some of the chapters I’ve been looking forward to most! (Family is re-visiting for another day, so y’all are just gonna have to wait again! :P)  
> Fun fact, I can’t swim.


	135. An Hour Long You'll Have to Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second task of the Triwizard Tournament begins with a horrifying realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return! And so we dive into the second task!

**Thursday, February 24th, 2005, 6:28 AM** **  
** **Three hours and thirty-two minutes until the Second Task**

Somehow, Ariadne had managed to get some sleep, her dreams plagued by incomprehensible imagery both related and unrelated to the watery grave she fully expected to meet that morning, having woken an hour before she’d intended to. Outside, she could hear the earliest sounds of birdsong, and it sounded like some few people were awake throughout Gryffindor Tower as the poem played over and over in her head.

_ Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground _ .

Even if she did have Neville’s assurances of Gillyweed, which he would be cultivating come sunrise - which Ariadne realized she didn’t actually know when it was - she had no such assurances she’d find what she was searching for. For that matter, she had not been informed as to  _ what  _ she was searching for. 

That morning was going just swimmingly. And by swimmingly, it possessed the mental smoothness of a gigantic clock missing several teeth and a yoyo jammed into the space where its pendulum should have been. Ariadne had done a lot, over the past few years, to overcome her blindness to the fullest extent she was capable of. It was an opportunity nobody else in her position would ever get, her circumstances so unique she had only theories as to why her magic sense had even come about in the first place. But nothing she and Hermione had worked on in the never-ending weirdness of the magical world would help her in the depths of the Black Lake, and she was afraid. Her wand could get her  _ to _ the lake, but even that would not work underwater. No, she was going in fully blind, and for the first time in several years with the full weight of that fact.

Ariadne sat up groggily, surrounded by the taunting colours of which the box of her own bed and curtains were coated in, red and purple surrounding her as she took a deep breath. Pulling open the curtain to her right and sliding her glasses onto her face, fiddling with the chain to get it over her head, Ariadne frowned as the dormitory was bathed in blue light.

Hermione’s four-poster bed was open and made, no different than it had been when Ariadne had begrudgingly pulled her own curtains shut. Not only that, but more notably, it lacked her sister, and no blue and red filaments floated in the air signifying her having been there. Crookshanks was sitting atop it, before he leapt from Hermione’s bed and curled around Ariadne’s feet, meowing insistently. Mentally glancing at the bowls by Hermione’s drawers, they were empty.

“What… Have you not been fed, Crooks?” Ariadne crooned, frowning as she picked up the cat and bobbed him gently. “Have  _ you _ seen your mum?” Crookshanks meowed again, looking away from her.  _ Where  _ is _ Hermione? _ Ariadne thought. Unless she was having a truly horrible time in the bathroom, it seemed less than likely Hermione would have forgotten to feed Crookshanks, not in the evening nor the morning. She couldn’t just ask anyone, all the other girls in the dorm were still asleep. Letting Crookshanks down again and deciding to go check the loo, just in case Hermione  _ was _ having a truly horrible time there, Ariadne padded down the stairs quietly. “Hermione? Are you in here?” she called gently as she stepped into the girls’ bathroom, to silence. All the stalls were open, nobody else was even in the room. 

The conundrum unsolved, Ariadne returned to the dorm, numerous other girls seeming to have woken up since she’d gone down as the clock tower tolled for seven o’clock.

Three hours.

Now Ariadne was really worried. Not only was the task in three hours, but her sister it seemed hadn’t come back to bed the night before. Where  _ was _ she? Regardless, Crookshanks needed feeding, else the flat-faced cat wake whoever wasn’t awake already - it seemed Lavender and Sally-Anne were stirring - with his increasingly annoyed vocalizations, so Ariadne set about figuring out where Hermione kept the cat food. Eventually, she found it on a shelf, or at least the shape of the bag met the criteria and its contents sounded like it, and poured what she hoped wasn’t too much or too little into Crookshanks’ food bowl. Still concerned, Ariadne then closed her own curtains to get dressed, pulling her swimwear out with dread. Wintertime cold burning through her even despite the heater, Ariadne slipped her uniform skirt and a blouse on over them, before wrapping herself in her cloak as she stepped out. It wouldn’t be any warmer in the Common Room, but she was restless and didn’t feel like pacing about the dorm and disturbing her peers. Shivering down the stairs, not wearing shoes or socks, she didn’t find Hermione, but she did find a fidgeting Ron sitting on a couch in the room, far earlier than he’d normally be up.

“Hey ‘Adne. Couldn’t sleep, so…” he mumbled. “How’re you feeling, did you get that spell going last night?”

“Er, no,” Ariadne replied, sitting down on the next chair as Ron flinched into terror. “But Neville’s getting me his Gillyweed to use,” she added hurriedly.

“Ohhhhhh,  _ that _ ’s what he was in such a hurry for,” Ron said. “How does that help?” he asked quizzically.

“It’ll give me goo-gills,” Ariadne replied slowly, avoiding how bad her stammer would likely be if she wasn’t  _ very _ deliberate with how she spoke due to how anxious she was. “ _ Gilly _ weed.”

“Oh… I’m dumb,” Ron groaned, his stomach grumbling. “How long d’you suppose Hermione and Ginny’ll be? I’m starving,” he asked.

“You mean she hasn’t already gone?” Ariadne asked, her worry only resurging even greater than it had been. “I-I-I thought - I thought she’d be-shs-s-s-she’d be down here.”

“She’s not up there?” Ron hissed, uncurling from his comfortable position and sitting up with a spooked look. “She came back with you after practicing stuff, right?” Ariadne shook her head.

“Professor Moody told them Professor McGonagall wanted to see them-” Ariadne said, before sitting up herself, her eyes going wide. “Ginny…” she muttered, leaping to her feet, dread filling her stomach as she ran to the stairs, taking care not to trip on them even in her hurry to the third year girls’ dorm. Finally, she came to a breathless stop at the doorway of what had been her dorm the year before, her hair flailing about her head as she knocked on the archway.

“Oh hey Granger,” one of Ginny’s dormmates nearby said. “Good luck today!”

“Um-umm-um, is-is-is Gin-Ginny in?” Ariadne spluttered, to a frown.

“She’s not with you?” the girl asked. Ariadne shook her head, her eyes only widening. “We thought she’d slept on the couch with you again or something. That’s… weird?”

“Yeah…” Ariadne murmured, floundering back as a terrifying suspicion filled her mind, one she did  _ not _ want to entertain, but one she could not help but consider. Sluggishly, Ariadne made her way back up to her own dorm.

“Hey Ariadne,” Sally-Anne said, smiling before her eyebrows flickered. “You okay?” Ariadne did not answer. Instead, she stepped over to her window, opening it with her breath in her throat and her heart hammering in fear.

_ Please don’t let this work _ .

“ _ Acciopharum  _ Ginevra Weasley,” Ariadne whispered, before her blood ran cold at the warbling shaft of yellow light that threw itself out of the window, spearing down and into the void of the Black Lake, a towering beacon of blue standing from the water. “ _ Acciopharum  _ Hermione Granger,” she gasped, tears already forming in her eyes as Lavender and Sally-Anne looked decidedly fearful at Ariadne’s reaction. Once again, the same beacon stood out of the Lake. “ _ No… _ ” Ariadne breathed, gaping out the window as she stumbled back.

“What’s wrong, Ariadne?” Sally-Anne asked, stepping over.

“H-mm-h-mmmimimimii…” Ariadne spluttered, her breath coming in quickened bursts, her wand shaking in her hand as her chin wobbled and the reality of why her sister and her girlfriend were nowhere to be found hit her, her chest tightening around her lungs and her arms going numb.

_ An hour long you’ll have to look, to recover what we took _ .

To recover Ginny and Hermione. They had taken Ginny and Hermione. She would have an hour to blindly flail through the water and try to save the lives of her sister and her girlfriend.

\--

**9:35am**

**25 minutes until the Second Task**

Ariadne felt sick, and not metaphorically. She felt very much physically sick, having barely eaten all morning in the stress that was running through her veins. It seemed that while analysis was most definitely her and Hermione’s strength, it was also her weakness in such a situation where overthinking plagued her. What happened after the hour was up?

Would she have to choose between Ginny and Hermione? Who to save and who to let die? After all, Hermione  _ had _ said that the tasks were designed to test them. That they were almost cruel.

_ That _ thought was when she’d started crying on the way there, shuffling while Ron - who had unequivocally refused to stay in the castle despite his condition, the full moon starting that night - held her on her feet with inexplicable ease given the fact the boy was relying heavily on a cane and half his joints were cracking loudly with every step he took.

“Ariadne!” Neville called, catching up with them hurriedly. “Ariadne! Got it!”

“God, there you are!” Ariadne exclaimed in relief, tears still running down her face as she span from Ron to face Neville. “Is that-” she pointed to the glimmering purple light in his fist.

“Gillyweed,” Neville nodded, handing her the handful of slimy tendrils. “Sorry I couldn’t get more,” he lamented.

“You’re  _ sure _ this will work?” Ron asked him intently, his voice hoarse. “She’ll be able to breathe underwater?”

“Yes,” Neville replied.

“For-fo-fo-f-f-f-ff-o-for an hour?” Ariadne added, sniffling a little as she wondered where she was going to put the substance. She had a pouch, but it contained a knife Hermione had insisted she take. She’d just have to carry it, Gillyweed in one hand, wand in the other.

“Most likely,” Neville replied, nodding lightly.

“ _ Most likely?! _ ” Ron exclaimed. “Her life’s on the line and the best you can bloody give her is  _ most likely?! _ ” he snarled angrily.

“Well, there’s some debate among herbologists about the effects of fresh water versus salt water, and it didn’t fare well over Christmas, so…” Neville replied sheepishly. “It was in fresh water at least, the book said it was good for it!” he added hopefully.

“I’ll take it,” Ariadne quavered, grimacing as she wiped her nose. “Hopefully I won’t need a whole hour,” she added, remembering the beams of light that had shot into the air as she’d located the pair of them. They’d seemed close together at least, if not right on top of each other.

The boat trip to the three large platforms that had been constructed at the centre of the lake was a sickening blur of worry, the rocking of the boat only contributing to how sick she felt before she was standing shakily beside Ron, shiveringly taking off her cloak and blouse. After she’d given Ron the bundle of what she’d worn over the crop tank top and skirted bottoms she wore, as well as her glasses, she stepped forward, shivering.

For the first time in a long while, she felt truly naked. Even though she’d picked what she had specifically for the purpose of minimizing her dysphoria, she felt the eyes of the world upon her, upon her body. She couldn’t even take reassurance from the gentle impression of her chest pressing out into the top as she hoped nobody was paying attention to the darker skirt she wore. It was hard to see detail in black clothes, right? She could only hope.

“Good luck, ‘Adne,” Ron said, holding the bundle to his chest as he winced at a pain in his arm. “You’re gonna be great.” His words may have been confident, but his voice and magical core were anything but, shaky and uncertain.

“Welcome to the second task!” Dumbledore called loudly from his vantage point high above, as cheers for Cedric, Viktor and Fleur called out around her and from the throng of their friends that had gathered there. And yet there were also other cheers, cheers for her, cheering  _ Granger! Granger! Granger! _ Louder too than they had been for the first task, it seemed she had gained quite a lot of support for her dragonslaying antics. The support for the four of them faded away as they all stood near the edge of the platform and Dumbledore continued. “Last night, something was stolen from each of our champions. A treasure of sorts. These four treasures, one for each Champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake.”

Ariadne frowned.  _ One for each Champion _ ? Both Hermione  _ and  _ Ginny were down there, that didn’t make any sense. Unless… was there any reason either might have been captured for the others? Viktor had gone to the Yule Ball with Hermione. She had gone with Ginny. Ginny was her ‘treasure,’ perhaps Hermione was  _ Viktor’s _ . Surely therefore, Zhou would be Cedric’s ‘treasure,’ but who would be Fleur’s? Fleur had very vocally dismissed Roger, so unless the organizers weren’t aware of that, surely someone else would have been selected?

She supposed she’d find out in an hour, as Dumbledore spoke up again and the Champions were ushered toward the edge and Ariadne found herself standing beside Professor Moody, who was for some reason there. Why he was, Ariadne didn’t know.

“In order to win, each Champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface,” Dumbledore called.

“Put that in your mouth,” Moody growled quietly. Ariadne shook her head.

“Not yet,” she whispered back, to an incredulous scowl from the Professor.

“Simple enough, except for this: They will have but one hour to do so, and one hour only!” Professor Dumbledore announced, while Cedric and Viktor waved to the crowds. The two boys were both wearing singlets and shorts, while Fleur wore a skin-tight one piece swimsuit. Even though she’d be horribly embarrassed even without her anatomical differences, Ariadne idly wished she could have worn something like it, that so many things were not unavailable to her. “After that, they’ll be on their own. No magic will save them. You may begin at the sound of the cannon!”

Ariadne’s heart shot into her chest, her arms numb and her breath tight, in the moment of anticipation before, high above them, a colossal BOOM echoed out across the lake and the other three Champions dove into the water.

Whispers and cheers and shouts filled the soundscape of the platforms as Ariadne forced herself to take a far slower approach, denying her anxiety the panic it was urging - instead of diving, which she knew would only plunge her into the catastrophically dark depths of the Black Lake, she sat down on the edge of the platform, letting her immediately cold feet sink in, and lightly hopped into the frigid water.

“What are you  _ doing _ Granger?!” Moody hissed, as Ariadne bobbed on the surface, treading water as she clumsily raised her wand hand, the other clutching onto the slimy weed underwater. She could  _ not _ lose it into the water, not under any circumstances. The void of the Lake taunted her, pulled at her greedily as she refused to let her head sink into it, to lose her sense entirely. No, she had to stay up.

“ _ Acciopharum  _ Ginevra Weasley,” Ariadne spluttered, trying simultaneously to prevent water from entering her mouth as she flicked her wand up in the air, ignoring the cheers and jeers at her underwhelming performance. A bolt of yellow light shot into the water, before disappearing only a moment later, replaced by a towering pillar of blue magic.

She had her compass needle. Now all she needed to do was follow it.

The breaststroke, it seemed, was somewhat harder but not impossible to perform with one’s hands balled into fists; one clutched around the Gillyweed and the other around her wand as she swam awkwardly toward the beam of light that signified where Ginny was. It was a long way away, long down the Lake toward the castle, away from the pulses of light that shot out, shadowed by the many people present, from where Ron was holding her glasses. Water rushed against her ears in a chaotic assault on what she could sense, only half of her ‘vision’ truly useful to her and even then largely failing to show her anything but the beam of light and the mountainous banks of the Lake, errantly interrupting her sense of hearing as she urged onward, her arms already screaming at her for rest. Her lungs burned and her legs hurt, but she could not stop. Stopping would only draw away precious seconds.

Ginny’s life was on the line, Hermione’s life was on the line. Her own, she couldn’t have cared less about in that moment, if it took her death to save them then it took her death.  _ No magic will save them… no magic will save them… _ Had Dumbledore been talking about the Champions, or had he been talking about their friends and loved ones?

“ _ Acciopharum _ Ginevra Weasley!” she cried desperately as the beacon disappeared. Ten minutes had passed already. A sixth of the time she had until no magic would save ‘them.’

Ariadne could not take the risk that he hadn’t been talking about Ginny and Hermione, as she swam furiously - although admittedly rather inefficiently - toward the light of her girlfriend’s position, bringing it ever closer, and closer, and closer. For that matter, she could not necessarily assume Hermione was safe in Krum’s hands - even though he was, in his own words, ‘no jock,’ she was taking a shortcut. Viktor wasn’t. He would have to swim through all the dangers of the Black Lake’s depths, natural and otherwise, and no doubt the Department of International Magical Cooperation had added a litany of new creatures to the dark domain of the merpeople. Stopping and treading water to catch her breath, Ariadne decided it would be a good idea to check on her counterparts and their progress - if nothing else, she’d know if Viktor were far behind.

“ _ Acciopharum  _ Viktor Krum,” she said, vanishing her beacon on Ginny and finding the blue beam appeared not thirty feet away from her, shooting out of the water and moving incredibly quickly in what could only have been a search pattern as he shot from her right to her left with unnerving speed. Whatever  _ he’d _ prepared was certainly helping him. “ _ Acciopharum  _ Cedric Diggory,” she tried, the marker switching after a brief pause to a point about two hundred or so feet in the direction of the platforms, where, weakly, she could still sense her glasses pulsing. He wasn’t moving anywhere near as quickly, but Viktor’s zig-zagging movement was slowing him down immensely in his approach of the point Ariadne had to assume all four of their ‘treasures’ lay at. “ _ Acciopharum _ Fleur Delacour.” With a final check, Ariadne’s face fell as she realized how far away Fleur was, floundering thousands of feet away, closer to the platforms than to their target. She was definitely moving, but with only a position, Ariadne could not discern how.

“ _ Acciopharum _ Ginevra Weasley,” she cast, turning back to the renewed light of Ginny’s location and leaning back into the breaststroke, securing the Gillyweed in her hand as she did. She was close, so very close, as the beam towered over her, but  _ how _ close she could not tell in the lapping void of the water that prevented any sort of depth perception.

The beam was behind her, she realized as she passed directly over her target and gasped, nearly swallowing lake water. Dumbledore was saying something, far behind her, but she was not interested in hearing it. All she knew was that she was there. It would have been a cruel irony, Ariadne idly realized, if their loved ones had floated in a location  _ behind _ the platform they’d started on, if they had, all three of her counterparts would be going the wrong way.

_ You have arrived at your destination _ , Ariadne thought wryly as she regarded the Gillyweed in her left hand.  _ Now for step two _ .

With one smooth motion, Ariadne brought the disgusting, slimy substance into her mouth.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the deep darkness we go!


	136. To Recover What We Took

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After eating the Gillyweed, Ariadne must face the depths of the Black Lake and the lack of her magic sense it presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the first task, this one had a natural cliffhanger point :P  
> This one runs a little longer!

Darkness enveloped Ariadne as her limbs betrayed her, convulsing in agony as pain erupted through her entire body, screaming almost soundlessly as her lungs filled with water. 

The Gillyweed had been disgusting enough, she’d almost vomited it up immediately, but she’d pushed through the sinewy, stringy, slimy vine tendrils with resolute force. She had not anticipated the pain. She could  _ hear _ her body roiling, amidst the rumble of the water that had totally surrounded her. It was like someone was piercing a knife across her throat, stabbing her in the lungs and then eviscerating her feet, her hands burning in their own right.

But she could not ‘breathe’ water yet, as every instinct in her body screamed at her to surface, that she was drowning, but she didn’t have the command of her limbs to even try, feeling gravity pull her down as she writhed in the knowledge of exactly what was being done to her. It was taking every scrap of control she had to keep a hold of her wand, without which she knew she would truly be, to use the technical term,  _ fucked _ . She was quickly developing a headache, her entire body ached, and she knew why. Oxygen deprivation.

Even her sense of her own magical core, the sliver through her neck she could sense, was fluttering as she struggled to retain consciousness, before oxygenated blood flooded through her veins, the peculiar sensation of water passing over the raw gills that now adorned her neck and lower cheeks reassuring her she’d be fine. The transformation had, however, done nothing to convince her instincts that she was  _ not _ drowning; her lungs were still full of water, as she pulled her invisibly webbed fingers through the Lake and burst out onto the surface of the sea.

And then the headache came back as a veritable spout of water gushed from her mouth, strength disappearing as she realized she could not simply surface, her gills screaming at her to return. Even as she gulped down air, it did nothing to assuage the pain before she let her neck slip back below the waterline, shallowly treading water as she found that in exchange for temporary gills, the Gillyweed had taken, or at least made vestigial, her lungs, and she gained no oxygen from breathing.

“Oh god!” she exclaimed, still spitting out water, her face alone sticking out. At least she still had functional vocal chords. “ _ Ow! _ Okay…” she spat, regarding the towering beam of blue light beside her with apprehension.

The easy bit was well and truly over. It was time for Ariadne Granger to work for a living.

“Okay… just need to dive down, and she should be there. Just need to dive down. No big deal,” she assured herself, craning her neck back awkwardly to get as much of her gill surfaces underwater as possible while still sensing the beacon. It was only a few feet behind her, and as long as she dove down in as straight a line as possible, she’d arrive directly on top of Ginny.

If her lungs were of any use, she’d have taken a deep breath, but instead, she simply leaned back, flipping back down into the water with a smack against the surface, and surrounded herself in the watery darkness of the Black Lake with a kick of her elongated, webbed feet.

She was so much faster with those feet than she had been on the way, and she cursed herself for not taking the Gillyweed sooner. Then again, with only lacking assurances it would last, she couldn’t have risked wasting it. Regardless, water rushed past her, roaring in her ears and sliding over her gills as she found her freshly webbed fingers imparted a huge amount of propulsion compared to the ineffective paddling of her balled fists - even if she had to hold her wand awkwardly in her right hand, unable to let it go between her fingers comfortably.

THUNK

Ariadne reeled back as she hit something, pain exploding through her head as she slammed into what felt like mossy stone.  _ What the hell?  _ Feeling about, Ariadne rolled around the ledge, the other hand holding her head as she patted the stonework. It even had an underside, as she returned her left hand to it, and circumnavigated it by touch. Was Ginny  _ beneath _ it? Curious, she pushed herself downward, before finding her arms scraping against another block of stone.

A pillar, this time, as she felt around its structure, and she’d run into it sideways. Or at least, she thought sideways. Pain shot through her leg as her long, wavy foot brushed against more stone with a scratch. Swimming away from it, she flinched away from a second pillar, that must have been the other supporting the stone above it. Feeling around slowly, it wasn’t a Stonehenge-like structure, but instead, an archway met by another archway to its side. Frowning, Ariadne palmed her way around the pillars, her forehead smacking into more stone.

This was a complicated structure, not unlike some of the architecture of Hogwarts, she thought as she gently pushed away from it, trying to remember what direction it was in as Ariadne realized she didn’t know what way was which, drifting into open water and instantly regretting leaving the pillars. At least they’d provided a guide.

She’d have to try going down a bit more, to find the seabed and start searching for her peers, she decided, flitting her feet back up and waving her whole body into the odd swim she’d found came most naturally to her. Strangely, water was not  _ all _ she could hear. She could hear what sounded like the movement of a school of fish passing her, but that paled in comparison to the almost operatic music she noticed with a shock.

_ Of course! _ she thought.  _ Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground, the singing is a clue! _ Smiling with the first bit of actual confidence she’d felt in days, Ariadne span about, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Maybe her eyes couldn’t lead her, but her ears could, as she leaned forward and waved her way forth. The water was deceptively calm as she clutched her wand tensely, wondering what dangers awaited her as she-

Plap

Something hit her face, something soft and bendy. Seaweed, she realized as once again she felt around for what her obstacle was. Not only that, but she realized with a shock that the singing had gotten  _ quieter _ . She’d swum in the complete opposite direction of the singing, and was no doubt proverbial miles away from her target. Screwing up her face in frustration, Ariadne pulled herself along the seaweed, using it as an anchor. She needed to reorient herself, get back above Ginny, and dive again, and for that she needed to surface.

Ariadne’s heart leapt into her throat as something grabbed her arm, long spindly fingers wrapping around her left wrist, stinging tentacles wrapping up the rest of her arm.  _ That _ at least was familiar as she reacted immediately, knowing exactly what had grabbed her.

Grindylow.

_ The trick is to break the grip, brittle fingers _ , said Professor Lupin, his voice echoing through her mind as she threw her right hand to its grasp and snapped its fingers back ruthlessly. The invisible Grindylow, seemingly far less bold than the one she’d faced in Lupin’s obstacle course, immediately shrieked before its tentacles and hand left her arm, leaving her in what promised to potentially be Grindylow-infested waters with no idea where any where. Tensely clutching her wand, Ariadne gave a powerful kick of her feet and was greeted by an explosion of air, her head bobbing above the surface and her gills resenting their brief excursion back into open air.

What was  _ not _ present was the beacon she’d cast, she realized with a hushed curse. It had faded.

“ _ Acciopharum _ Ginevra Weasley,” she cast resolutely, her heart sinking as she sensed just how far off she’d been. The beacon shafted out of the water at least a hundred feet away as she sighed and pulled herself toward it. Frowning intently as she regarded what little of her own magical core she could sense despite the water, Ariadne positioned herself as closely to the beacon as she possibly could, relief flooding her mind as she found her hunch was correct. Sensed through her own body, a sliver of the blue line pierced through her form and glimmered into her sense even under the water. Slowly, Ariadne reoriented herself. She needed to be careful, speed was not the tool to use anymore. She needed precision, she needed to stay on that line like a zipper.

Facing down, Ariadne gently pushed her hands forward and scooped water backward, hurriedly adjusting her feet to keep her descent straight as she almost lost the line immediately, her heartbeat filling her head.  _ Slower than that, Ariadne _ , she thought to herself as she brought her hands forward for another, slower, scoop. Once more, the voices of the merpeople sang out below her,  _ directly _ below her. Voices not of the song also sounded below, ponderous, almost mournful sounding tones, some of them entirely too close to her for her liking.

The merpeople?

THUNK

Ariadne reeled back again, desperately clutching back to the beam as she lost it, padding at another hunk of rock. Whatever this was, Ginny was beneath it. Feeling its bounds, it wasn’t  _ wide _ by any means, wider only slightly than the columns and arches she’d previously found, but distinctly not the same stone. Its depth, however, she could only discern by carefully rounding it. Internally groaning, Ariadne reluctantly pivoted to pull herself past the stone, the beacon vanishing from the bounds of what little she could sense.

After what felt like an eternity, jumping at any disturbance to the water, she was glad to find the corner of the stone, angled like a larger version of the archways she’d encountered before - which she realized with some chagrin meant she’d been way off even before her erroneous attempt to follow the music - and began her work relocating the beacon. Ten minutes could not have passed, it would still be there, she assured herself, her heart beating like a frantic drumbeat.

SWOOSH

Something massive whipped past her with the odd sound of a merperson’s vocal shrieks, the disturbance to the water flicked into her by its tail throwing her tumbling away from the gigantic arch, oh but a split second after she’d caught a glimpse of it through her neck. Her heart exploded into fear as she span to a stop, frantically trying to figure out what direction she’d come from.

She’d lost her way.  _ Again _ . Without her watch, Ariadne had no clue how much time had passed, it wasn’t waterproof and so she’d not taken it with her. 

Fear was setting in, and if she’d had functional lungs, she’d have been hyperventilating. Did she even have time to slowly dive again, to recast the beacon? Did she have time? Would she just get detached from the beacon again?! She had to save Ginny, Hermione if she could. But how could she if she couldn’t  _ see _ ?!

Her panicked reverie was only intensified by another mer-shriek somewhere nearby, followed swiftly by a hissing pop and another, far more urgent shriek.

“Who’s there?!” she cried, inhaling water as her heartbeat rushed through her arms and gills. “Cedric, Viktor, Fleur?!” Three taps sounded somewhere below - below? - her as she flailed about, trying to figure out where they were. “Help me!” she screamed desperately.  _ Please, you all said you’d help me,  _ **_PLEASE_ ** _ help me now! _ “ _ Please _ , help me! Please, I can’t see anything, I know she’s here somewhere but I don’t… I don’t… I can’t find her!” she pleaded, still flailing just to find where they were, unwittingly sealing off her own ears with the roars of water as she span desperately, before gasping fearfully at the hand that took her own. That one was decidedly human, and it was pulling her. “ _ Oh my god thank you! _ ” she cried, as whichever Champion it was pulled her further down, and deposited her hand upon what was quite clearly a rope. Patting her arm about, Ariadne found two legs, and shoes. “Gin! Thank you! Ww-w-w-w--w-ww--wait!” she spluttered, as she heard whoever it was begin to swim away. “Where’s Hermione?!” They stopped, before she felt the wake of their swimming approach her again, this time grabbing her right arm and pulling it toward another, shockingly close, rope. “Thanks!” Whoever it was was already well on their way away, as chattering noises filled the space. “Hermione…” Ariadne breathed, before hesitantly releasing her hold on her sister’s rope. She’d get to Hermione in a second. First, she knew Ginny was her own ‘treasure,’ and she didn’t know if she was even allowed to rescue Hermione. A blind girl against possibly a whole city of merpeople didn’t sound like good odds as she reached down to her leg and unclipped the knife from herself, swapping her wand into her left hand before she began sawing at the bonds that held Ginny.

So far so good.

With a twang and a sudden lack of tension, the rope gave way. Triumphantly, Ariadne quickly made to grab her arm, noticing that she wasn’t floating back up to the surface like she’d expected her to. Frowning and licking her lips anxiously, Ariadne hovered in the water for a few seconds, pondering.

She had no reason to believe Viktor was nearby, nor even that he’d get there. She had to rescue Hermione. Patting Ginny’s worryingly immobile shoulder, Ariadne swam down and felt for - and successfully found - Hermione’s rope. Her heart leapt into her throat as the merpeople screamed furiously, and something sharp pressed against her neck.

“ _ ONLY ONE! _ ” whichever merperson had her pinned hissed angrily, pushing her back slightly with the point of a weapon of some kind.

“B-but-but-buts-butsh-but-bu-but-but-butshe-but she’s my sister!” Ariadne protested, two more points pressing onto her neck from behind before half a dozen terrified shrieks filled the water around her and all three suddenly vanished, water pressure telling her they’d fled.

The question of  _ what _ they’d fled from was immediately answered as a booming, snarling roar filled the water and Ariadne clutched at Ginny’s feet desperately, feeling a gigantic wave of water rush past her.

Unlike the million predatory scenarios Ariadne had instinctively imagined, however, whatever it was  _ spoke _ . Its voice was horrifying, deep and gurgling, more beast than human, but despite how difficult it was to understand, it had unmistakably said her name.

“Aaaiiiaaneee!” it roared, shuddering the water just as much as she was shuddering fearfully. “Ivvvv ‘ottt ‘errr,” it told her.  _ Ariadne, I’ve got her _ .

“Viktor!” she cried, to an affirmative grunt. With the relief that Hermione was safe, Ariadne found her way up a little to hook her arm under Ginny’s armpit, and as she heard Viktor swoop away, she gladly began pushing with her flippers up and up and up. Or at least, in the direction she adamantly hoped was up, she’d always been easily disoriented even with her magic sense. Whatever Krum had done, it must have had basis in Transfiguration, she thought. Nothing else would have warped his vocal chords like that, but dear god was it risky.

Graceful air greeted her as she exploded onto the surface once more, the briefest moment of a blue glimmer on Ginny’s head popping as she gasped for air. Not far away, an orange shape not unlike what Ariadne had read of large marine predators morphed back, fading into the face of one Viktor Krum, who held a spluttering Hermione up.

“‘Adne!” Ginny cried, her arms wrapping around Ariadne in joy. “‘Adne you did it! You got the charm, I knew you could!” Ariadne laughed, beaming at her as she shook her head.

“Nah. Gil-Nevi-nev-nevi-n-Neville gamee-gave-gave-gave me his Gillyweed!” Ariadne replied joyfully, pointing to her gills as Krum assured Hermione she’d be out of the water soon.

“Woah, those are- oh wow, yeah, you’ve got gills and flippers!” Ginny marvelled. “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah! C’mon, let’s go!” Ariadne cried, realizing Ginny had obviously gotten changed before being placed into the Lake the night before, bearing her Hogwarts uniform rather than the jumper she’d worn previously. Gladly, Ariadne’s heart singing in relief as she paddled quickly alongside the sodden Ginny, the four of them quickly approached the platforms in earnest.

Fleur was already standing atop them, draped in a towel, as was Cedric, but Fleur’s frantic magical core was nothing like the calm, collected state of Ariadne’s Hufflepuff counterpart. She must have won, surely, if she’d not been there while Ariadne was, but if that were the case, why would she be scared?

Applause erupted as they approached, Ron yelling gladly and holding Ariadne’s clothes and glasses in one hand as he punched the air triumphantly. Ariadne wryly smiled, knowing she’d have to remain in the water until the Gillyweed wore off.

“Gabrielle?!” Fleur cried as they approached the platform and Hermione hungrily leapt up the ladder, almost slipping back down it in her eagerness. “Do you have- no…  _ Gabrielle! _ ” she screamed, falling to her knees and sobbing. Ariadne’s eyes went wide as she realized why Fleur was already there.

She’d been so far behind, her marker shuddering, because  _ she’d been prevented from continuing _ .

Her ‘treasure,’ her loved one, was still beneath the Black Lake.

“Who’s Gabrielle?” Ariadne asked, horrified as Viktor started up the ladder after Ginny. “Fleur, who’s Gabrielle?!”

“My little sister!” Fleur screamed, her accent only stronger in her stress. “My little sister, she is still down there, I could not get past the Grindylows!” Ariadne only needed a split second to realize what they had to do.

“Viktor! Cedric!” Ariadne called, swimming over to the ladder below Viktor but not climbing it, making sure her gills remained underwater, the magical cores of Dumbledore and Barty Crouch descending a ladder. “We need to go and get her sister!”

“You would do that?!” Fleur gasped, her breath coming quickly as her expression turned from horror to hope. “You would save her?!”

“I dunno…” Cedric murmured hesitantly as he eyed Dumbledore, who neared the landing.

“International magical cooperation!” Ariadne added insistently. “What better way to show that than by going to get her?!”

“No!” Karkaroff spat, his expression furious as he stepped over. “I will not-”

“I agree with Granger, High Master,” Krum said shortly from his frozen position on the rungs of the ladder, before leaping off and over Ariadne’s head, splashing back into the water as Dumbledore, now standing nearby, frowned. “We will have to be quick, we will have to find her again!” Viktor told her hurriedly, before turning.

“No we won’t!” Ariadne replied, smiling. “I can find her above water, the same way I did Ginny! I have to stay in the water anyway, so…” she told them, looking to Cedric expectantly.

“All right. If we’re quick, we’ll still make it in the one hour window,” Cedric replied, tossing aside his towel and jumping off the platform in a cannonball, dashing water over Ariadne’s face with a colossal splash.

“Oh my god, thank you!” Fleur cried, leaning over the edge. “Thank you Ariadne!”

“You’d have done the same for me,” Ariadne smiled. “ _ Acciopharum  _ Gabrielle Delacour! Follow me!” she cried, a burst of blue light showing her the way as Cedric reinstated a Bubble-Head Charm and Viktor recited an unfamiliar incantation, converting his own head with an orange wave into that of a shark. Ariadne pushed herself powerfully toward the beacon, flippers displacing ever more water than her feet would have normally as her heart raced with adrenaline.

“In an unexpected move, in lieu of Miss Delacour’s inability to retrieve her sister from the depths, Ariadne Granger has rallied Cedric Diggory  _ and _ Viktor Krum in a SECOND RUN!” Professor Dumbledore bellowed to a gigantic roar of applause, his voice magically enhanced as they swam away. “With only fourteen minutes on the clock, the remaining three contestants are now racing time to locate and retrieve Gabrielle Delacour!”

“How are you finding her?!” Cedric called, surfacing briefly, the bubble around his face still present.

“Spell I made!” Ariadne replied. “Puts a beacon above what I’m looking for, because I can’t sense anything underwater! Thought it’d be best to go to directly above her, then swim down!”

“Clever,” Viktor grunted horrifically through his shark-mouth.

“Thanks!” she called, marvelling at how much faster they were covering water than before.

“How come I can’t see anything? Can only you see it?!” Cedric yelled over the waves, as they drew ever closer.

“Yep! All right, we’re here!” Ariadne replied, curving to a halt around the towering beam of light. It could not have taken them any more than a few minutes to reach the merpeople’s location, as Cedric and Viktor slowed around her, Viktor’s dorsal fin slipping through the water. They still had at least ten minutes, easily enough for her sighted companions.

“Okay!” Cedric called, stopping. “Viktor, you keep the merpeople and Grindylows off my back! I’ll hex her loose and lift her up. Ariadne, you stay up here, got it?” Ariadne nodded, as Viktor grunted affirmatively under the water. “Okay, GO!” Cedric yelled, diving below with a rush of water as Viktor’s fin disappeared and Ariadne continued treading water.

It was practically effortless, thanks to the Gillyweed, but it  _ was _ awkward to be wading there, waiting as the boys carried out the much-applauded rescue she’d ‘rallied.’ She felt as if she was supposed to be down there with them, but she supposed she would only slow them down. And even with how effortless swimming was with flippers, she did feel sorry for the boys who’d probably had a hard time keeping up with her, even her arms and legs aching from the exertion of their run back out.

That ache was getting worse, she realized with a startled jump, before it escalated into pain as her feet contorted and her hands and neck went ablaze, her chest giving her the impression she’d been trampled by a herd of elephants as she struggled to maintain her water-treading, hungrily gulping down air. Unfortunately, she was once again in the limbo of possessing no supply of oxygen, her lungs having yet to recover while her gills quickly vanished, and unlike her lungs, had been unable to hold any water  _ or _ air.

Something tugged at her leg, pulling her down and water filling her mouth as she gasped at the realization she was surrounded by hundreds of tiny flakes, and what was tugging at her was an increasing horde of Grindylows. The matter that had formed her flippers just couldn’t have been reabsorbed, no, it had to flake off and attract every Grindylow in a five mile radius for a lovely feast of amphibian human flesh.

A feast she was right in the middle of as stinging tentacles and wiry fingers grasped at her from all sides, desperately pulling her arms up as she tried to surface, slapping at rubbery Grindylow heads. Breaking their grips wasn’t going to work, there could have been hundreds of them. If only she could surface, she could breathe and cast a spell, her empty lungs begging her to open her mouth and breathe, not understanding that doing so meant only a one-way ticket to Davy Jones’ Locker.

Suddenly, a roar surrounded her and half of the tentacles and fingers that had gripped her were torn away as the water was billowed terrifyingly powerfully as what sounded like Viktor charged through the horde, detaching enough for Ariadne to weakly pull herself up and breach the surface again, gasping for air as she kicked at the remaining Grindylows, Viktor performing cleanup as his glowing dorsal fin vanished and reappeared intermittently, before Cedric burst back onto the surface, his Bubble-Head charm vanishing and the presumably soaked form of Gabrielle Delacour carried with him, gasping and spluttering on water. Viktor resurfaced, making Gabrielle scream before his face returned to humanity and vanished from Ariadne’s sense. Interestingly, Gabrielle seemed to share the same Veela magic as her sister, but far weaker as the little girl clung to Cedric for dear life.

“It’s all right, you’re safe,” Cedric assured her. “We’re gonna take you to your sister, yeah?” Gabrielle nodded, and with that, the four of them returned triumphantly to the roaring applause that was the three platforms, ushering Gabrielle onto the ladder first to meet Fleur, who was already holding out her arm for her.

“Ariadne!” Hermione cried, draping a towel over her immediately as she clambered up onto the wooden platform, covered in a number of them herself. Hermione hurriedly rubbed Ariadne’s back for warmth as Fleur stood before them all, gaping in awe. “You must be freezing!”

“You… you saved her even though she wasn’t yours to save! My little sister!” she cried, before wrapping each of the boys in a hug in turn, turning her attention to Ariadne with a tight embrace. “Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” Ariadne assured her, as Hermione scoffed, pulling another towel from Lavender’s arms and rubbing Ariadne’s hair with it.

“Personally, I think you behaved admirably!” Hermione called over the ruckus, as Dumbledore nodded to Barty Crouch and pushed his way through the crowd.

“You’re gonna love  _ this _ , ‘Adne!” Ginny cried, nodding over to Dumbledore.

“I finished last-” Ariadne spluttered, before being cut off by an incredibly loud noise that Ron suddenly grimaced at before Hermione took Ariadne’s clothes from him to let him cover his ears.

“ATTENTION!” Dumbledore bellowed over the cheers that filled the lower platform. “ATTENTIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN!” he roared, setting his wand to his neck with a purple glow, finally quelling the crowds. “The winner is: Mister Diggory!” Dumbledore announced, to a roar of applause, before speaking again. “Who showed innate command of the Bubble-Head Charm. HOWEVER!” he added, as Ariadne frowned. “As Miss Granger found Miss Weasley first, through the ingenious creation of her own spell, and would have  _ finished  _ first if not for her disability,  _ followed _ , by her rallying her fellow Champions in a  _ second run _ , showing OUTSTANDING moral fibre and true loyalty to the ideals of the Triwizard Tournament in retrieving Miss Delacour… we’ve agreed to award her… JOINT FIRST PLACE!” Dumbledore yelled triumphantly as Ariadne blushed increasingly beside the beaming Hermione, before gaping at the Headmaster at his announcement, the entire crowd erupting.

“YES!” Ron yelled, the widest smile Ariadne had sensed on his face in months behind her.

“That means you’re winning!” Ginny cried, pulling her into a hug which she numbly accepted. “You’re ahead of Cedric by points!”

They had awarded her  _ joint first place _ . She hardly felt she deserved it, but yet she found herself exactly where she’d been after the first Task.

Ariadne Granger, current winner of the 2004-2005 Triwizard Tournament, without even trying to be.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hell yeah I have been looking forward to that for a hot sec! It was rougher for her, but she was rewarded in kind!


	137. Barty Crouch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going for a walk with Hagrid, the New Marauders find a little more than they’d expected in the Forbidden Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interestingly, the chapters I was looking forward to are not over. >:)  
> This one also runs a little long!

“Joint first place! Joint first place!” Ginny, Hermione, Ron and the twins chanted joyfully as they disembarked the dinghy back onto the dock, Hermione immediately jumping up and down as she found solid ground again. She’d been bobbing excitably for a minute or two on the ride over, but the wizard operating the magical boat had sternly told her to stop, else she capsize them with her eagerness. Now, however, she was free to let that energy flow, waving her arms joyfully as water continued to flail out of her hair. 

“You’re getting pretty fit, you are,” George remarked, flitting his head at Ariadne as she sniffed embarrassedly. “Must be all that  _ moral fibre _ in your diet.” Ron cackled.

“And all those Spellios for breakfast, look at you making your own spells!” Fred added, patting her shoulders in quick succession. “Right on!”

“Congratulations, Granger!” Barty Crouch called as she went to walk past him, turning to her. “A fine achievement.”

“Th-th-thank you!” Ariadne spluttered, nodding to him as Ginny span to walk slowly backward.

“Well done, girl,” Crouch said, starting to walk with her.

“See you at Hagrid’s, ‘Adne!” Ginny called as she caught up with the others, waving affectionately as Ariadne returned the gesture, walking beside Crouch. She was going to have to go get changed anyway, as she was still dripping through her blouse and skirt as well as being devoid of shoes or socks, so she thought she might as well oblige the Ministry official.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spoken,” Mister Crouch said, walking on a cane but with far less emphasis on it than Ron. “After all, your story is one I’ve heard so many times. Quite remarkable really. Tragic, of course, to lose one’s family in such a way and to be so harmed by their substitute. It’s good that the Grangers took you in, it’s a sweet end to the tale, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Ariadne replied gently, feet crunching through dry leaves and dirt as they walked apart from the column of students, many of whom cheered at her as they passed.

“Still, life goes on. And here we stand!” the man added, smiling warmly at her. “I must apologize for the difficulties you encountered today; you see, we had expected you to have an unfair  _ ad _ vantage in this task, not an unfair disadvantage, with your wide range of observations,” he grimaced.

“You-you-you didn’t know water blocks it,” Ariadne told him, shrugging.

“Well, still. Some fine work, I must say. Independently producing one’s own spells at only fourteen, you have a bright future ahead of you Miss Granger. You know, the Ministry could always do with expert spellweavers, if you’re contemplating your career after Hogwarts.” Ariadne tilted her head curiously. She hadn’t extensively considered what she wanted to do, the wizarding job market would be catastrophically different to the non-magical one and reading up on it was on her to-do list, but she had to admit, Ministry Spellweaver sounded like a good title.

“Bartemius!” the green-glowing Professor Moody barked, coming to a halt nearby them and leaning on his staff with a grin. “Not trying to  _ lure _ Granger into one of the Ministry’s summer internships, are we?” he joked as Crouch gave him a difficult smile, clearly not comfortable being interrupted. “Last kid who went into the Department of Mysteries never came out!” he exclaimed, licking his lip.

“I-I’d be fine with-” Ariadne spluttered, before frowning as Crouch stepped toward Moody with his magic warbling concernedly, Moody licking his lip again.

“And they say I’m mad!” Moody called, as Barty stepped away and past the students on their way back to the castle, staring at Moody before turning and walking to a tree. Confused, Ariadne watched as the briefly flickering Moody took a deep swig from his flask, stabilizing whatever was upon him, and strode away urgently as Crouch looked downright scared.

“Mister Crouch?” Ariadne asked, following him hesitantly. “Mister Crouch, what is it?”

“It’s… it’s nothing,” Crouch replied, his eyelids tensing as he seemed to still stare at Professor Moody. “Go on, Miss Granger, your friends are waiting for you.”

“Oh. Um… talk with you later then? I.. I would actually be curious about that internship thingie,” Ariadne said quietly, stepping off and awkwardly waving to the suddenly spooked Ministry official.

“I’ll look into it for you,” Crouch said quietly, his attention clearly elsewhere as Ariadne frowned to herself, returning to the path and making her way back to the castle to get changed.

\--

“Now, I remember.. I remember when I first met you all. Biggest buncha misfits I ever set eyes on!” Hagrid called as they strolled through the woods, a gentle afternoon breeze wafting through the trees as Ariadne and Ginny held hands and veritably skipped along, brushing twigs and light branches out of their way. It wasn’t time to leave Ron yet, in fact it was still mid-afternoon, but both he and Hagrid had wanted fresh air and so they’d gone for a walk. “S’pose you remind me of meself a little. And here we all are, four years later!”

“Still a bunch of misfits!” Ron called roughly after swallowing what Ariadne thought was entirely too large a bite of a sandwich for how quickly he’d chewed it.

“Even more now!” Ginny called back jovially, pointing to Ron, who snorted and pretended to growl at her. “Not a single one of us is  _ normal _ . Werewolf, autistic smarty-pants, weird magic,  _ beautiful _ trans smarty-pants,” Ginny listed, pointing to all four of them including herself in sequence, making Ariadne blush as Ginny kissed her on the cheek, distracting her from the slight ache in her forehead. She must have hit some of the underwater stones a little harder than she’d thought.

“Ain’t none of those are bad things. Well, maybe the magic thing, but hey, we’ve all got each other,” Hagrid replied. “And Ariadne o’ course! Soon to be! The  _ youngest _ ! Triwizard Champion there’s ever been!” he bellowed. “Hooray!”

“Yeah!” Hermione yelled, her excited stimming only intensifying as Ron joined in.

“Wooo-ooooo! Granger! Granger! Granger!” Ron chanted, jumping and immediately regretting it as he almost collapsed onto his knees, but recovered. “That’s the closest to a howl you’re getting,” he added to Hermione, who had given him an eternally amused look for his own cheering.

“Professor Hagrid’s right, you know,” Ginny said gently, smiling to her as they walked, Ron and Hermione starting to gladly sing the  _ Hoggy-warty Hogwarts _ song with Hagrid. “You’re winning, and you’re not even trying to. I think if you  _ try  _ to win this, you’ll go down in history as not only the youngest but the  _ greatest _ Triwizard champion there’s ever been.  _ And _ the first trans lesbian, that’s gotta count for something.”

“I dunno,” Ariadne quavered. “I mean… I’m not trying to beat  _ them _ . They signed up for it, they wanted to have a go, I... I just got shoved in and now I just have to try my best,” she said, smiling wryly.

“Your best is better than theirs, ‘Adne,” Ginny said snidely. “None of the others  _ made a spell _ just to complete the task. That’s why I love you, you’re so clever and resourceful- what the?” Ginny cut herself off, as her foot tapped something. Bending over and letting go of Ariadne’s hand Ginny frowned and picked whatever it was up.

It was a hat, and not just any hat.

“Hagrid!” Ginny called. “Hagrid! Look at this.” she repeated, holding up the bowler hat as the massive man jogged heavily over, followed quickly by Hermione and Ron. Gazing about, Ariadne didn’t sense Barty Crouch’s purple and gold core anywhere, but his hat, coated mostly on the inside with those same colours, was most certainly there.

“What’s Barty Crouch’s hat doin’ out here?” Hagrid asked rhetorically, frowning massively as he looked about, Ron spinning and smelling the air suspiciously.

“Mister Crouch!” Ron yelled, sprinting suddenly toward a tree, casting his cane aside and skidding to a halt on the other side of it. Running over to follow him, Ariadne found herself presented with perhaps the strangest thing she’d ever sensed as she drew back in horror.

Coated in blue magic from her glasses was unmistakably the face of Bartemius Crouch, his suit, even his cane glimmering on the ground beside him, but one thing was missing as Ron pressed his head to the man’s chest to try and hear a heartbeat. His magical core was  _ gone _ . The body was present, but that universal indicator of a person’s existence was lacking. Even non-magical people had cores, even if they were grey.

“He’s dead,” Ron mumbled, stepping back with his eyes wide and his mouth agape in fear. “Oh my god he’s dead.”

“What?!” Hermione and Hagrid exclaimed in unison. “Ariadne?” Hagrid said hesitantly, looking to her expectantly. He thought she might have been able to sense some sort of sleeping spell, she realized as she nodded grimly, her heart racing as she struggled to wonder just what on Earth had happened. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, was dead, and they’d just found his body lying against a tree in the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts.

“Can you smell who did this?!” Hermione asked Ron desperately, gaping at him as she linked her tensed fingers together. Ron shook his head, continuing to step back.

“No. This was done with a Killing Curse, I can smell the magic but no blood,” Ron replied shakily.

“Good lord…” Hagrid muttered, shaking his head frantically before pulling out his partially glowing umbrella and pointing it at his throat with a purple glow. “Professor Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore sir. We’ve uh, we’ve just… we’ve just found… Barty Crouch has been murdered, sir,” he spluttered, his core jumping about in confused fear. “All right sir. You lot, back to the castle,  _ now _ !” he commanded, wordlessly spitting a shower of white sparks past the blue-coated canopy and into the sky.

\--

As if that day’s events hadn’t been chaotic enough, what with the kidnapping of her sister and her girlfriend for sport, winning the second task and going back for seconds, now she was a witness in a murder investigation. She hadn’t even had time to write home about the day’s events, no doubt their parents would first herar of it all from the Quibbler - they’d long since cancelled their subscription to the Prophet after Rita’s various attacks on Ariadne’s character, as well as their behaviour around Remus. Not only that, but it turned out that she was  _ also _ the last person to have spoken to Crouch aside from Professor Moody, who had taken up his retired role of an Auror again to assist in the investigation.

She was glad that Ron had been handily removed from the entire thing, the last place a werewolf wanted to be was in the middle of a murder investigation - half the Ministry would happily pin it on him even if he had a perfect alibi, which he did - he was accounted for for the entire day, but that wouldn’t have mattered.

The castle was buzzing with gossip, wild theorizing about who could have murdered Crouch leading into rampant conspiracy theories even including the Triwizard Champions. Just about everyone she walked past wanted to know, wanted to know what it had been like in the Lake, and it seemed as if the only person being kept away from the whole debacle was one Rita Skeeter, who had left after the task and had not been asked to return. Ariadne, meanwhile, had been informed by the Gryffindor Head Girl that Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak with her in his office, her raw nerves running high as she scattered her way up the already open stairs to his office in the early evening, having left Hermione and Ginny to relax in the Common Room. As she stepped onto the landing hurriedly, voices were already loudly arguing within the office.

“A man has died here, Fudge, and he won’t be the last! You must take action!” Professor Dumbledore yelled as Ariadne frowned, stepping closer to the door and hesitantly raising her hand. Would it be rude of her to barge in on them like that? If he was talking with the Minister for Magic, then surely she could and should wait.

“I will not!” Fudge replied indignantly. “In times like these, the wizarding world looks to its leaders for strength, Dumbledore!”

“Then for once show them some!” Dumbledore snarled in response.

“The Triwizard Tournament will  _ not _ be cancelled, I will  _ not _ be seen as a coward!” Fudge protested. Ariadne didn’t quite catch Dumbledore’s response, but it had seemed to infuriate Fudge. “What did you say to me?! What did you say-”

Ariadne tilted her head as Fudge stopped talking suddenly, and before she could even really try to figure out why, the door clunked loudly and swung open. Spinning to face them from her ponderous position outside, more out of politeness than necessity, Ariadne took in the magical core and form of Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, standing before Dumbledore’s desk as the Headmaster sat behind it, Professor Moody’s glowing form standing and leaning on a pillar near the door.

“Oh, Ariadne!” Fudge cried, a clearly false smile adorning his face. “Ariadne, how good to see you again!” he called, as Dumbledore stood to stand beside him.

“Un-u-under better-b-better circumstances, Minister,” Ariadne replied cordially as she found herself the centre of attention, in her sneakers and a hoodie she was starting to outgrow. “I-I-I-I can come back later, Professor?” she offered.

“Oh, not necessary, Ariadne, the Minister and I are done,” Professor Dumbledore told her, patting Fudge’s arm to the man’s irritation. “I’ll be back in a moment if you don’t mind waiting,” he added, ushering her in. “Minister, after you. There you are, your hat,” he said politely, stepping down from the raised second level and letting Fudge go past him. “Oh, Ariadne, do feel free to indulge in a little Licorice Snap in my absence, but I have to warn you, they’re a wee bit sharp,” he told her, winking as he retrieved a glowing yellow sweet from a large goblet on a table on his way.

“I-I’ll pass, Professor,” Ariadne said awkwardly. “Little bitey thingies aren’t my thing,” she admitted, miming them with her hands as Professor Dumbledore chuckled. She’d tried them once before, in her first year in fact, but the Licorice Snaps not been worth the hassle of restraining them. Ariadne never really had understood the obsession wizards had with animated food.

“Feel free to look around, there should be some toffees somewhere. I must admit, I can never remember where I put them, I merely find them occasionally. Professor Moody?” Dumbledore told her, prompting Moody to stop leaning on the pillar and wordlessly brush past Ariadne on his way out, before turning and lashing a yellow beam from his wand to the door handle, slowly pulling it closed as Ariadne frowned quizzically at him through the shrinking gap.

“Well that was needlessly dramatic,” Ariadne muttered to herself, as she peered about. “Hello again Fawkes,” she said quietly, stepping up to stand near Dumbledore’s desk and offering a hand to the large Phoenix. “How’re you doing lately?” Fawkes squawked, letting her scratch his neck. “Yeah, it’s all very complicated.” Stepping back from the bird, she sat down on a small chair near the Professor’s desk and thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose  _ you _ can find the toffees any better than Professor Dumbledore?” Another squawk. “No, thought not,” she replied, scratching at the still-irritated Grindylow scars up her cheek. Eventually, after only a few minutes, the door opened again and Professor Dumbledore slipped through, shaking his head at her.

“Politicians,” Dumbledore grumbled, shaking his head as she stood back up. “How are you feeling, Miss Granger?” he asked, stepping up and over to another chair, not the one behind his desk, and sitting facing her. “With all this godforsaken business and Ministry officials crawling all over the grounds, I thought it best to see how you were doing after the Task.”

“All right, I suppose,” Ariadne replied quietly, sitting back down before a jolt of lightning shot through her.  _ Ministry officials crawling all over the grounds _ . “Professor! Ron!” she exclaimed, before Professor Dumbledore gave her an expectant look. “They’ll be searching the forest, and what if the murderer’s still out there?! He can’t go out there tonight!”

“Ah, I’d almost forgotten about that in all of this. Professor Hagrid,” Professor Dumbledore groaned, pressing his wand to his throat. “Do not take Ronald Weasley into the forest to transform this night; the forest will be the Ministry’s focus, and it would not do him any good to be discovered there. Please escort him to the Whomping Willow to use the Shrieking Shack tonight. Tell him Ariadne says good night,” he murmured.

“The Whomping Willow, sir?” Ariadne asked, frowning.

“The secret passage to the Shrieking Shack lies at its base,” Dumbledore explained. “It’s fairly simple to access, should one know how.” He sighed. “I assume, Miss Granger, that you would like to know why I asked for you?” Ariadne nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, you see, Ariadne, I find my mind a wee bit stretched,” he told her, standing up. “The events of the last eight months have left me searching, and  _ searching _ for something, some small detail,” he grumbled, pacing and tensing his wand arm for emphasis. “Something I might have overlooked… something that would  _ explain _ why these  _ terrible _ things have happened. Every time I get close to an answer, it slips away! It’s maddening!” he hissed, rubbing his arm. “But! I have neglected to explore the resources available to me,” he added, with a smile as he sat back down. “Ariadne, you have proven yourself a valuable resource in searching for clues, which is why I have asked you to come here tonight. I need to know, Ariadne, if you have  _ sensed  _ anything, anything at all. Anything out of the ordinary, anything strange that could be linked?”

“Strange is a matter of perspective,” Ariadne mumbled, frowning as she thought. The immediate example that came to mind was Professor Moody and his odd green shell. But was that even strange? Alastor Moody was well known to be a paranoid individual, perhaps it was a ward, or perhaps he merely suffered some illness. After all, Ron took potions for an illness she could sense, that didn’t mean he was suspicious. For that matter, the man could see through walls - if he  _ was  _ suspicious, it wouldn’t be wise to point him out when for all she knew, he was right outside, staring at her. She  _ did _ have his attention when he’d first left the room.

“Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked expectantly, seemingly noticing her pensive frown.

“I…” Ariadne started, thinking. “I.. I’ve been having these… dreams a lot, lately, Professor,” she told him slowly.

“Dreams?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“They started in the summer,” Ariadne told him. “They’re strange, because I cc-c-can’t normally see in my dreams, not usually anyway. But- but in these ones I can. And I’m not me, and sometimes Voldemort is there, only he’s not quite human. Two other men are there with him, in this old house, but their names are never said. Just,  _ servant _ and  _ alchemist _ .” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow curiously, squinting at her.

“Have there been others like this dream?” Dumbledore asked intently.

“Not  _ others _ , but the same dream, over and over,” Ariadne told him. “Bits of it, always the same.” Dumbledore stood, his eyes a little wide as he walked over to the second level again, pacing nearby a magical panel on the wall. “Sir, you don’t think… you don’t think they’re real, do you?” she asked, fear sitting in her heart as she realized that they might have meant something and Dumbledore span to her.

“I think it’s unwise for you to linger over these dreams, Ariadne,” he said hesitantly, his eyes wide before he opened the panel to reveal a large, magical object sliding out from behind it. “I think it’s best for you to simply… cast them away,” he told her, holding his wand to his temple and performing the same branching magic he had the night she’d caught Peter Pettigrew, dropping the resultant strand of memory into what Ariadne realized was a Pensieve. “If you sense  _ anything _ of interest, come to me at once. Off you pop.” With that, he gently ushered her back out of the door and to the landing where indeed, Professor Moody had been waiting, who stepped into the office with a nod. Ariadne watched him step in and the door close behind him, worry filling her mind. Whether she should have told Professor Dumbledore about his odd appearance was no longer relevant, but it plagued her as she quietly stepped down to the first floor landing and started walking toward the great staircase to make her way back to the Gryffindor dormitories. Surely it had to be a coincidence,  _ surely _ .

“It’s a sign, Severus! You know what it means as well as I!” she heard Igor Karkaroff bellow from her side as she walked past, the door to Professor Snape’s little antechamber cupboard in which he stored many of his ingredients slamming open and the forms of both Professor Snape and Karkaroff being bathed in blue light to her side as she stopped, her scar stinging at what  _ else _ she sensed.

As Snape stood in the doorway, holding the door open, Karkaroff was holding up his left arm, clutching his sleeve up to reveal a panel of weak, albeit very distinct, Dark magic. Realizing someone was there as Ariadne frowned incredulously, not needing to turn to see what she realized immediately was the Dark Mark, the mark of a Death Eater, upon Karkaroff’s arm, Karkaroff glared at her and threw his sleeve back down. Durmstrang’s High Master continued to glare at her as he hurriedly strode back into the corridor and barged away from her as Snape caught sight of her and stepped out.

Ariadne tilted her head at the High Master as he turned the corner. Sirius  _ had _ said Karkaroff was a Death Eater, but that was proof, and it was most certainly going to Dumbledore.

“Granger!” Snape snapped as she span to begin back to the office. “What’s your hurry?” he sneered, standing in front of her. “Congratulations, your performance in the Black Lake was inspiring. A spell of your own creation, and Gillyweed, am I correct?” he asked dryly, looming over her.

“Yes, sir?” Ariadne replied, frowning slightly. That wasn’t the average fare for interactions with Professor Severus Snape.

“Ingenious,” Snape nodded, tilting his head sharply to the cupboard as he strode back into it. Thinking it best  _ not _ to tip him off to her intent to report Karkaroff’s Mark to Dumbledore, Ariadne followed him. “I dabbled in spellweaving myself at your age… however…” he said, climbing the ladder inside of it to reach up to a shelf, somehow even more imposing as his cloak obscured most of it and made him look taller than Hagrid. “A rather rare herb, Gillyweed. Not something found in your everyday garden. Nor is  _ this _ ,” he told her, retrieving a tiny bottle and sliding back down smoothly. “Know what it is?” he asked, flourishing the bottle.

“It could be pumpkin juice, for all I know,” Ariadne replied, raising an eyebrow. “To me, it’s just a bottle.” Snape snorted ever so slightly.

“ _ Veritaserum _ ,” he replied.  _ That _ Ariadne knew about, but no doubt Snape would explain it to her again as if she were an idiot. “Three drops of this and You-Know-Who himself would spill his darkest secrets, the use of it on a student is… regrettably, forbidden. However…” he told her, a tinge of menace filtering into his voice. “ _ Should you ever steal from my personal stores again, my hand might just slip over your morning apple juice _ ,” he declared, that menace turning from a filter to completely blatant as Ariadne drew back slightly, frowning.

“I-I-I-I-I-I I did- I-I didn’t-” she spluttered, before Snape leaned into her face and she backed up.

“Don’t. Lie. To me,” he snarled. “Gillyweed may be innocuous, but  _ boomslang skin _ ?  _ Lacewing flies _ ? You and your little friends are brewing Polyjuice Potion, and believe me! I’m going to find out why!” he said, pushing Ariadne back with the door as he threw her out and slammed the door in her face.

Ariadne slammed it open right back, her brain’s mechanism going  _ ding! _ with the answer.

_ That _ was why Professor Moody looked so weird to her, why he took a potion to renew it.  _ Because he wasn’t Professor Alastor Moody _ .

“POLYJUICE POTION?!” She yelled, as Snape span to face her again with a furious expression, the consequences of yelling at a Professor departing her mind entirely as other priorities took over. “I didn’t steal from your stores, Professor, but I think I know who did. We need to go to Professor Dumbledore,  _ RIGHT NOW! _ ”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the penny we have all been waiting for FINALLY DROPS! You want canon divergence? HAVE SOME FUCKIN CANON DIVERGENCE!


	138. ...Junior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the realization that Professor Alastor Moody is not in fact Professor Alastor Moody, Ariadne makes her move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the words of RoryE in the Discord: YEAH GO GET HIS ASS ARIADNE  
> TW: Body horror, transphobia, queerphobia

“ _ What?! _ ” Snape hissed as Ariadne bobbed insistently on her feet in the doorway, in the middle of swinging out out of it.

“ _ Come on! _ ” Ariadne cried, furiously beckoning him. “Bring the-th-th-th-th-th-the-thev-the-v-v-v-the Veritaserum!” she added insistently, grunting angrily as he started spluttering. Instead of listening, Ariadne just started moving, striding purposefully back toward the first floor landing of Dumbledore’s staircase as she pulled her golden-glimmering wand from her hoodie pocket. With any luck, ‘Moody,’ or whoever he really was, wouldn’t have had time to do anything to Dumbledore, the office fewer than a hundred feet away.

“ _ Granger! _ ” Snape yelled as he ducked out of his nook, still carrying the bottle at least as she span to face him. “Explain yourself.  _ Now _ .”

“Just COME ON!” Ariadne yelled back, beckoning him angrily as her heart leapt from her chest. “I know who really stole from you!” she added desperately. She didn’t have the time to explain, knowing that whoever it was possessed Alastor Moody’s eye, and would be capable of seeing her even from the Headmaster’s office. Relieved as Snape swooped into following her, she resumed her intense stride.

“ _ How _ do you know, Granger?” Snape spat, catching up with her. “Neither myself nor Professor Dumbledore has been able to ascertain the identity of the thief, and you claim to have put the puzzle together in mere moments?”

“I can see him!” Ariadne spat back angrily, her stride not slowing as she turned her head. “UGH, I should have realized before!” she yelled, furious at herself for not connecting the dots sooner, for not connecting the dots before a man got  _ murdered _ . Ariadne was certain that whoever was masquerading as the former Auror, they were responsible.

“You can see  _ who _ , Miss Granger?!” Snape snarled as she rocketed up the steps to the Headmaster’s office, tempted to skip steps if only she could determine their perspective fast enough, Snape’s cloaked form smoothly looming up them behind her. Ariadne’s breath was heavy as she stood outside the office door, preparing to open it before she heard ‘Moody’ speaking.

“She’s not exactly perfect, Albus,” the man said. “Whatever was done to the Goblet of Fire, she didn’t see it.” Luck was on her side, the eye had not had its attention beamed through the wall.

“ _ Or _ she mis-identified it,” Dumbledore replied as Ariadne’s eyes went wide, remembering his words in the trophy room.  _ The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm could have hoodwinked it _ , ‘Moody’ had said. No wonder he’d known. “I have not known any magic to escape Granger’s notice, Alastor.”

“ _ Acciopharum _ Alastor Moody,” Ariadne whispered, Snape’s gaze snapping to her incredulously as a yellow beam shot not forward into the Headmaster’s office, but up and to her left. Taking a deep breath, Ariadne prepared.

“STEP AWAY FROM THE HEADMASTER!” Ariadne bellowed, slamming the door open with a BANG and poising her wand upon the glowing green individual standing only feet from Dumbledore, adrenaline running through her veins as Snape leveled his own wand at ‘Moody’ and the two men span to face her in the doorway. “STEP AWAY!” Ariadne repeated, flicking her wand to the side to urge the man who did  _ not _ bear a blue beacon over his head to comply.

“I beg your pardon, Granger?!” the impostor barked authoritatively, turning to her as Dumbledore looked between his three acquaintances with concern on his face.

“What is this, Ariadne?” Dumbledore asked hesitantly, himself stepping away from the man.

“WHOEVER YOU ARE, STEP AWAY,” Ariadne yelled, stepping into the doorway and tightening her grip on her wand. “Professor Snape, if you would confiscate his flask, I believe I have found your Polyjuice culprit.” The impostor’s remaining eye widened as he leapt with terrifying speed - especially for a man with only one leg - toward her. Within a hair’s breadth of an instant, significantly less than a second, Ariadne, Snape  _ and _ Dumbledore had shot various magics into the fray.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa! _ ” Ariadne cried, flicking her wand at the goblet of Licorice Snaps as Dumbledore threw a silvery beam at the man and Snape an angry purple wave which missed him by but a centimetre, throwing the goblet at the man’s head. While it did have the effect of blowing him sideways as he was thrown off balance by the loud CLANG-ANG-ANG that erupted through the room from his cranium, it also had the fortunate if unintended effect of bathing him in the sharp Licorice Snaps that Dumbledore had offered her, which immediately leapt into the air themselves and started savagely biting the man who yelled out and tried to bat them away from himself. “ _ Petrificus Totalus! _ ” That purple wave slammed straight into him, bathing his already shelled frame in a shimmering case. “ _ Immobulus _ ,” she added, immobilizing the Licorice Snaps with a blue wave. “I could see you the whole time,” Ariadne spat, standing over him as Snape grabbed him by the throat and began pouring glimmering blue Veritaserum down his throat, the impostor powerless to resist. “Just didn’t know what you-whatwhat-what-what it was until just now.” With one swoop, Snape detached the flask from the man and flipped it open.

“Polyjuice Potion,” he confirmed, sniffing it. Dumbledore’s eyes went wide as he strode down to the man.

“Release him,” he told Ariadne with a growl in his voice. Ariadne mentally relaxed the purple light, and ‘Moody’ began writhing under Dumbledore’s sudden and rather strong grip as he grabbed him by the throat. “Do you know who I am?” he snarled.

“Albus Dumbledore,” the man grumbled, struggling to sit up.

“Are you Alastor Moody? Are you?!” Dumbledore yelled as Ariadne stood back.

“No,” the man said, clearly trying not to answer.

“He could not have continued his charade without fresh samples,” Snape told Dumbledore quietly, before Dumbledore tightened his grip on the glowing man.

“Where is he?  _ WHERE IS HE? _ ” Dumbledore bellowed, as an idea sparked through Ariadne’s mind.

“ _ Accio _ Marauder’s Map,” she cast, flourishing her wand behind them. Dumbledore looked back to her as the yellow arm darted out of the door, and presumably found the quickest route to Ariadne’s trunk in her dormitory.

“Excellent thinking, Ariadne,” Dumbledore said, releasing the man and standing with his wand pointed at his face. Dumbledore beckoned Snape to take over, and the Potions Master took Dumbledore’s place, pointing his wand at the man lying on the floor as the Headmaster snatched the impostor’s wand off of the floor and put it on his desk. “But why, Miss Granger did you not mention this  _ earlier _ ?!” Dumbledore half-yelled, making Ariadne jump.

“B-b-b-b-b-because I did-Idid-I-did-I-II-I-I-I-Idid-I didn’t know what it was!” Ariadne protested. “And he was right outside, he’d have heard me!” Dumbledore sniffed angrily, pressing his wand against his throat.

“Professor McGonagall, to my office,  _ now _ ,” Dumbledore said shortly. “Professor Flitwick, the Minister should still be on his way off the grounds, get him back here immediately. We have a new and almost certainly guilty suspect in the Barty Crouch case,” he said, seconds before the warbling arm shot back into Ariadne’s wand, the orange pad that was the Marauder’s Map throwing itself into her hands, barely missing Professor McGonagall who’d only just entered the office herself, shockingly quickly.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!” Ariadne cried, pressing her wand into the suddenly red map. “ _ Aurum  _ ink!” Blue ink spidered across the Map as before her, the glowing form of the impostor began to flicker. “Professor… it’s wearing off,” she told him, flipping the map down as Professor Dumbledore span to the man whose joints were cracking and his face becoming a grimace as his fingers writhed.

Ariadne watched in horror as the fading green magic began to roil and warp, and not just in intensity. No, it was warping physically as the disgusting sound of melting flesh filled the office, joining the man’s groans at what Ariadne realized had to be an intensely painful experience. She couldn’t help but mentally tell him to suck it up, that Ron went through worse one hundred and twenty times a year. At least with Polyjuice, you either stayed human or had done something very wrong. His bones were cracking and the skin around his eyes and lips warping so as to expose flesh, at least that was how it seemed in the flickering green glow that wracked his form, arcing across his body as a sickening noise escaped his wailing, warping mouth and he began flailing at the orange prosthetic eye that adorned his face.

It fell from the socket with a nauseating  _ pop _ , rolling onto the floor with its strap as whoever it was screamed out in pain, his voice strangled as his vocal chords warped and shifted and he seized back in pain, his hair growing out to replace where Moody had been balding, terrifying noises not unlike skin being peeled off filling the room as McGonagall looked about them frantically, clearly lacking context for  _ anything _ that was happening. With cracking vertebrae, the man threw himself back with a roar as the green magic finally vanished completely and whoever it was’ magical core was revealed.

A familiar gold and blue magical core, that she had sensed six months beforehand at the World Cup, albeit this time surrounded by angry blue lines that must have been the Veritaserum he’d been forced to swallow.

She did not, however, have time to consider that, as the man yelled out in anger and threw himself at her.

“Ariadne!” Dumbledore barked, throwing himself into the way and pushing the man back with a horrified expression on his face. McGonagall had her wand out now, and was holding it on the impostor who no longer bore the green shell containing his magical core. “Barty Crouch Junior. What a coincidence,” Dumbledore breathed, looking over to his Pensieve. “It must have been interesting, reliving the memory of Igor exposing you,” he snarled, as Sirius’ words echoed through Ariadne’s mind.

_ Then there’s Barty Crouch, heart of stone, sent his own son to Azkaban because he was a Death Eater too! _

Barty Crouch’s son had been right under their noses the whole time.

“Severus. Send an owl to Azkaban, I think they’ll find they’re missing a prisoner,” Dumbledore said, eliciting a nod from Snape, who swiftly stepped out of the room.

“I’ll be welcomed back like a hero!” Crouch snarled, a grin across his face.

“Oh no, I don’t think you will,” Dumbledore told him coldly. “You may not have noticed, but whatever your plan was, it’ll hardly work if you’re in a maximum security cell. You’ll be eaten alive for  _ failing  _ the Dark Lord, wouldn’t you agree?” Crouch seemed to draw back at that.

“ _ You _ put my name in the Goblet of Fire,” Ariadne hissed, stepping toward Crouch with her wand poised at him. “What was it you said about Confundus Charms? No wonder you knew. And for the record, I  _ could  _ see it, I just didn’t know what it was.  _ And _ you were at the World Cup, I recognize your core,” she said, nodding to his chest. “You cast the Dark Mark.”

“Figured me out, have you?” Crouch spat, licking his lips frantically. “Ohhh, I’ve been waiting for this,  _ boy _ !” he yelled. “I can see why the Dark Lord wants you dead, you smartarse tranny  _ FREAK _ ! You and your fleabag friend, cavorting with Muggles, queers, blood traitors, werewolves and upstart house-elves!” he roared disdainfully, before Dumbledore chucked a wordless petrification spell at him and pulled Ariadne away. How Crouch had discovered Ron was a werewolf was beyond Ariadne, but he could not be allowed to tell anyone else. Wordlessly, Dumbledore pulled the Marauder’s Map out of Ariadne’s hand and began scanning over it, unfolding it and refolding it.

“Defence office,” he said shortly to McGonagall, showing her as Flitwick, the Minister for Magic and three people she didn’t recognize in uniforms strode up the stairs. “Minister! It seems Miss Granger here has acquired this year’s Death Eater for us to interrogate,” he called, pointing as Fudge jumped at the sight of Crouch Jr. on the floor.

“Turns out I can sense Polyjuice,” Ariadne told Fudge with an almost smug smirk. “Just took me a while to realize what it was.”

“Have… have you ever considered becoming an Auror when you finish school, Ariadne, like them?” Fudge asked hesitantly, stepping over to them and pointing his eyebrows to the three figures who were at that point hoisting the immobile form of Barty Crouch Jr. into the air and carrying him from the room. “You’ve certainly got the skillset, and that magic sense of yours gives you a unique edge.”

“Eurgh, no,” Ariadne grimaced. “Not-not not… not my thing,” she elaborated, as Fudge gave her an amused smile.

“Nevertheless, perhaps you should reconsider it,” the Minister told her. “You’re turning out to be quite the magical bloodhound, you know.”

“No thank you, Minister,” Ariadne replied, politely but sternly. Magical society had far too many problems for her to even slightly want to spend her life as what amounted to a wizarding policewoman. She’d  _ already _ had enough of fighting dark wizards for a lifetime, it wasn’t exactly a career ambition of hers.

“We can handle it from here, Ariadne,” Professor Dumbledore said, patting her on the shoulder and ushering her to the door. “Minerva, with me, let’s go fetch the  _ real _ Alastor,” he said, striding after the Aurors.

“Whatdo-whatdo-whatdo-what do you want me to do?” Ariadne asked, still eager to assist.

“Go to bed, I should expect!” McGonagall exclaimed, staring at her. “You’ve had quite the complicated enough day already.” Ariadne snorted, as Dumbledore nodded.

“Indeed. Go, we can handle this. Filius, if you could go ahead of them and prepare the Dark Tower?” Dumbledore told her warmly, before looking to Professor Flitwick.

“I can do that. Good job, Miss Granger,” Flitwick replied, hurrying off to follow the Aurors.

“I will tell Professor Hagrid when it is safe for… Red to return to the woods, worry not, Miss Granger,” Professor Dumbledore whispered in Ariadne’s ear. “Off you pop, I’m sure your sister will want to know everything!” he added, collecting Moody’s eye off the ground before straightening and joining her in shuffling from the room purposefully. Upon reaching the landing and after Dumbledore had resealed his office - remarking he’d need to change the password - Ariadne detached from the two groups to follow her own course back to the Gryffindor dormitory as the clock tower tolled for nine o’clock in the evening.

About 9:05 was when the full weight of her day became exactly that, a weight on her as exhaustion took the place of adrenaline-fueled Death Eater hunting.  _ What the hell is my life?! _ Ariadne thought incredulously.  _ Oh, just wake up, win the Triwizard Tournament, and then uncover a Death Eater or two by teatime? _ Her mind was reeling. Everything that had happened since the World Cup suddenly made sense. Barty Crouch Junior had been tasked with killing her, and he’d tried to use the Tournament to do it, and even though he’d been caught, the third task in June meant he might still succeed in doing it.

“Fairy lights,” Ariadne mumbled dryly to the Fat Lady, who hummed welcomingly before her portrait swung open and Ariadne stepped over the threshold into the Common Room.

“Hey ‘Adne,” Ginny called as Ariadne stepped into the space, shuffling over on the couch and patting the cushion beside her to invite Ariadne to sit beside her, between herself and Hermione. “What’d Dumbledore want?” she asked, as Ariadne crushed down onto the sofa.

Ah yes. That was how that evening had begun.

“Pff…” Ariadne breathed, inexplicably entertained by the dissonance that had been the last half hour, despite its horrifying implications that only grew the more one thought about it. “He uh, he wanted to know if I’d sensed anything weird, anything that might help in the case.”

“And?” Ginny asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Case closed,” Ariadne replied, turning to her with a smile. Ginny and Hermione span to her fully, gazes wide and surprised. 

“What do you mean  _ case closed? _ ” Hermione spluttered.

“So, you know how Professor Moody looked weird to me?” Ginny nodded, as did Hermione. “That’s because he  _ wasn’t _ Alastor Moody,” Ariadne told them.

“ _ What?! _ ” Hermione hissed. “He wasn’t-”

“That stuff in his flask was Polyjuice Potion!” Ariadne explained. “ _ That’s _ what I could sense!” Ariadne shuffled her feet under herself, crossing her legs and sitting on her feet as Ginny and Hermione leaned in, clearly enraptured by the need to know what had happened. “So, I wa-I wa-I wa-I was actually coming back  _ here  _ when-when-when Snape, he thought I’d  _ stolen _ the Gillyweed I used for the task, and-and-and-and he thought that I must have stolen other stuff! You see, he was missing  _ boomslang skin and lacewing flies _ .”

“The key ingredients of Polyjuice Potion…” Hermione mumbled, gaping at her.

“Exactly!” Ariadne said, pointing to Hermione for emphasis. “ _ That _ was when I realized! It’s been staring me in the face all year but I just didn’t  _ sense it _ !” she half-yelled angrily, realizing a few other students had been listening in and were now staring at her, just as wide-eyed as Ginny and Hermione. They seemed to withdraw as soon as she turned to face them slightly, however.  _ The amount of people who forget I know they’re there even when they’re behind me, honestly _ .

“Wait, so who  _ was _ he?!” Ginny exclaimed. “You’re saying he wasn’t Moody, so who was he actually?”

“Barty Crouch Junior,” Ariadne whispered, the enormity of his identity only just dawning on her. “ _ He killed his own father _ . I think Crouch figured out who he was, he did that tongue thing he always did and Crouch went all quiet.”

“The  _ Death Eater _ ?!” Hermione hissed. “The one Sirius talked about? Isn’t he supposed to be in  _ Azkaban _ ?!”

“Clearly not anymore,” Ginny snorted, her mouth still agape a little. “When did he even get out, wouldn’t the Ministry have known? They had the whole wizarding world locked down for Sirius and he wasn’t even guilty!” Ariadne shrugged.

“So he was  _ never _ really Professor Moody,” Hermione said, horrified. “All this time, a Death Eater’s been teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“No wonder he showed you guys Unforgivables in your first class,” Ginny spat. “Bastard probably enjoyed it.”

“Yeah…” Ariadne murmured, frowning. “Then, we went back to Dumbledore’s office, and exposed him. I used the spell we made on  _ Alastor Moody _ , it didn’t go to him.” She sniffed, amused again. “Fudge thinks I should become an Auror, pff.”

“I mean, it’d be pretty cool,” Ginny said. “Ariadne Granger, Head of the Auror Office, eats Death Eaters for breakfast,” she declared dramatically, waving her arms as if to mime a plaque.

“Nah,” Ariadne replied, shaking her head. “Finding dark wizards is just a… a… a side gig,” she chuckled, prompting Hermione to burst into laughter as Ginny snorted and threatened to follow suit. “I don’t wanna be fighting for my life every day, I just… I just wanna do my homework and finish school,” she said. “Speaking of, do you think we still need to do the essay Professor  _ Crouch Junior  _ assigned on the Reductor Curse?” she asked Hermione, smirking.

To Ariadne’s delight, Ginny doubled over in giggles as Hermione clutched at her sides, barely able to breathe at that.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the swerving car that is Kaleidoscopic Grangers’ adherence to canon completely misses a corner, flies straight into a ditch and explodes into a fireball!


	139. Professor Moody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Barty Crouch Junior no longer holding him hostage, Professor Alastor Moody holds his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class with the third years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of last night, Kaleidoscopic Grangers has just exceeded Magical Metamorphosis in hits.  
> What. The. Heck? How?? Why??  
> I NEVER expected that or even thought it was possible when I started writing this. I can only thank you all for reading this silly little thing and sticking with it. Onward, I have much more story to tell!  
> Although if MM updates, it’ll leap back up again. I challenge thee, Eon! Bury us in new Holly content!  
> This chapter ran oddly long. Neat.

> _ To Mum and Dad _
> 
> _ 24/02/2005 _
> 
> _ You’ll be glad to know I got through the second task in one piece. We both did - apparently those bastards in the Department of International Magical Cooperation thought it’d be fun to chuck our Yule Ball dates onto the bottom of the Black Lake and have us go get them. I had to rescue Ginny, but Viktor had to rescue Hermione. Don’t worry, we’re both fine. Apparently, they expected me to have an advantage, but my magic sense doesn’t work underwater. Because of that, and because Hermione and I made a spell, they awarded me joint first place even though I came basically last (aside from Fleur, but she got mobbed by like a hundred Grindylows). In terms of points alone, I’m actually winning the tournament, which is wild. The third task is going to be a maze with various creatures in it, doesn’t sound as bad, but knowing them there’s probably a twist they haven’t told us yet. _
> 
> _ I don’t know if it’ll get into the papers, Fudge seemed pretty adamant he’d do nothing, but Barty Crouch was murdered after the task - and we know who put my name into the Goblet of Fire now. Turns out, Professor Moody wasn’t Professor Moody, he was actually that Death Eater Sirius mentioned, Barty Crouch’s son, under the effects of a disguise potion - I was wondering why he looked odd to me, that was why. _
> 
> _ See you in June! _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ariadne _

\--

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ Regarding the task, that’s wonderful news! Obviously we’re more than a little horrified by the news that apparently the Ministry is so blasé that they’d put BOTH of you in danger without your consent, but we’re so very proud of you. Keep doing what you’re doing, clearly it’s working well! I (Sirius) think you can bloody well win it by a country mile if you try, you get out there and show the wizarding world what Ariadne Granger can do! _
> 
> _ Regarding Crouch - no, it didn’t get into the papers, at least nothing about his son did. It’s obviously being hushed up, a Death Eater in Hogwarts going undetected for so long would be some very bad press for the Ministry. There was an obituary in the Daily Prophet, but it was brief and not even in the front page, and it only said he’d “died in mysterious circumstances.” They’re hoping the news of the second task buries it, we think. _
> 
> _ Good god, Ariadne, are you going out of your way to stop every single evil plan within a twenty mile radius or is that happening by accident? _
> 
> _ Speaking of the news of the second task - there’s quite some speculation about yourself and Ginny, young lady. Not only was she your date for the Yule Ball - the first gay couple in its history, Sirius points out -, but apparently she was your “treasure” for the second task. And they got Delacour’s sister all the way from France for it, so the fact yours wasn’t Hermione is setting their typewriters ablaze. Far be it from our place to tell you what to do in your burgeoning teenage romance, but you had better bloody well treat her right. You can spoil her with broomsticks all you like, but if you’re not a good girlfriend, Molly will kill you herself. She’s why we know - she came over with the Prophet, wanting to know if we knew anything about the pair of you. I believe exactly what she said was “if your daughter hurts mine, I’ll stick my rolling pin so far up her arse she’ll be coughing up splinters and cookie dough.” _
> 
> _ Do try to avoid that fate. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Mum, Dad and Sirius. _

Ariadne felt her face go purple as she put down the letter, her diaphragm fighting her to either burst into laughter or die of embarrassment. She however, was not the winner of that fight as bursts of air started flitting from her clamped-shut lips, almost dropping the crisp paper into her cereal.

“What’d they say?” Hermione asked intently, scratching Hermes’ neck as Errol huffed at the noisy Monday morning Great Hall. Quite a bit of mail had come for her, not just from her parents but a number of parchment envelopes clearly from various outlets - the familiar Q of the Quibbler logo glimmered out from one of them, and the others seemed expensive. No doubt at least one was from the Prophet, but the paper envelope had been distinctively sent by their parents even if it weren’t for the handwriting of the magical ink. All four of them had had letters, but Ariadne had the sneaking suspicion Hermione’s lacked some of the sterner elements of her own.

“Pffffffff-ffff-fff-fff-ff… um… Gin, your mum wants to murder me,” Ariadne laughed, as Ginny nodded at that wordlessly, holding her own letter.

“Yep, I uh.. I know,” Ginny replied, with an uncomfortable look as she put it down. “She’s… protective.” Shaking her head, Ginny reached over to the other letter she’d been sent and opened it. “Oh, it’s from Doctor Tenet. Appointment on Saturday, that’s good,” Ginny told her, brushing a finger across the purple bracelet on her wrist. 

“Huh. Yeah, great!” Ariadne said. “Maybe… maybe this time it’ll work…” Ginny shrugged. It would be the second of Ginny’s bi-yearly appointments at Saint Mungo’s, wherein her magical suppression was temporarily released in order to measure her recovery from the events of her first year. There’d been some change on the previous time, more than they’d expected, but still nowhere near enough. Ginny slumped, before the bell tolled loudly and the Hall burst into clattering preparation to leave for classes.

“Probably not,” Ginny sighed reluctantly, before standing up. “Wanna come with?” Ariadne nodded, smiling at her. “I’ll just go talk to Professor McGonagall real quick about Flooing to Mungo’s on Saturday. See ya after class…  _ treasure _ ,” Ginny told her quietly, patting Ariadne on the shoulder and making her blush before hurriedly swinging her bag onto her shoulder and striding off toward the Professor.

“Ron, just go lie down! I can record the class for you!” Hermione implored of Ron.

“What?!” Ron groaned, still suffering the effects of the final day of the same full moon that had started on the day of the second task. “And miss the  _ real _ Alastor Moody? Not for the world, ‘Mione,” he protested.

“Ron…” Hermione whined, slumping at him as they started walking. 

“You,  _ looking forward _ to a lesson?” Ariadne asked quizzically. “I’d ask if  _ you _ were actually someone else on Polyjuice but I know you’re not.” Ron snorted.

“I wanna know what he’s like, y’know?” Ron mused as they made their way to the third floor. “I’m all right, Hermione, honest.”

“If you say so,” Hermione relented. “But if you fall asleep, I’m recording it instead of waking you up.” Ron grumbled and whined the entire way there, before taking a seat beside Hermione at her insistence. Not much had changed about the room, but a number of the cages and various critters had been removed. It was, as usual, the prerogative of Hogwarts to spread rumours, as the entire gathering class babbled loudly about their Professor, the story having been warped by dozens of retellings into dozens upon dozens of different varieties, the chatter so loud that both Ron  _ and _ Hermione had cast the  _ audiminus _ jinx on themselves as Hermione tapped her feet anxiously.

The intensely loud cacophony fell silent  _ immediately _ as the door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office swung open and the same thudding footfalls of Alastor Moody strode forth, the  _ true _ Alastor Moody. His core was blue, green and gold, with rivers of silver within it as he leant on the railing, staring at them all intently. He wore the same clothing Crouch Junior had, but his gait on the prosthetic leg had far less of a pained limp to it, instead he turned down to the stairs with confidence and a resolute expression, the orange bead now decorating a blue-coated, grizzly-scarred face rather than a sickly green shell.

The tension in the room was tangible as he cracked his neck, standing tall before his desk.

“So,” Professor Moody said in a menacing tone. “I may be known for my eye, but I’ve got ears. It’s true,” he told them, as gasps ran across the room. “Until today, you have been taught by an impostor; a Death Eater by the name of Bartemius Crouch Junior, disguised as myself. Ministry doesn’t want you to know that,” he said. “I think that’s absurd, so I am telling you that. So! I’ll introduce myself.” Moody picked up the chalk and began writing on the board, with what seemed from his movements to be much tidier handwriting. “Alastor Moody. Ex-Auror, and supposed to have been your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for six months now. Sod had me trapped in my own trunk, so you’ll have to forgive me for not recognizing you all!” he barked. “What say we get this lesson underway before someone  _ else _ tries to usurp my identity? Books out, and turn to page two hundred and thirteen!”

Whispers erupted across the room as everyone complied, and Ariadne flipped her wand over her book to bring its text into a light she could read, turning to a page she almost burst out laughing as she took it in.  _ Appropriate _ , she thought.

“See, I only got a couple days to figure out what to teach you,” Moody said. “But the circumstances have offered an excellent learning opportunity. Today, we will be learning about how to identify someone under the effects of Polyjuice Potion, hmm?” he grinned, raising an eyebrow as he stepped into the row toward Ariadne. “Miss Ariadne Granger, white-eyes over here, already has full marks, because she can see it. Took her a moment to know what it was, but thanks to her, you can rest assured that I am the real Alastor Moody.” Ariadne smiled, dipping her head gratefully. “So!” he barked. “Let’s see what you know! How would you identify, should you need to, someone who is not who they appear to be?” he asked, looking about urgently. “You, name?” he called backward as he walked to the front again and pointed to Seamus.

“F-f-Finnegan, Professor, Seamus Finnegan,” Seamus replied hurriedly, to a nod as Moody turned back around.

“Mister Finnegan. How would you identify someone on Polyjuice?” Moody said.

“Ask Ariadne,” Seamus replied, pointing over as Ron snorted and laughter filled the room, even a bit of a belly laugh from Professor Moody joining the noise.

“Correct, Mister Finnegan, but only to a point,” Moody replied. “How do you know  _ she’s _ not an impostor? How do you know she’s really Ariadne Granger?” Hermione’s hand shot up behind Ariadne. “You are?”

“Hermione Granger, Professor,” Hermione replied, as Moody nodded. “You ask her questions, about her magic sense, for example,” Hermione answered, before Moody had called her to.

“Excellent! And you, Hermione, are in the perfect position to verify Ariadne’s identity, as her sister you know her better than anyone else in this room,” he called loudly, pointing to the sisters. “Ariadne. To your magic sense, what does your sister there look like?”

“Uh, c-c-currently, Hermione appears as a blue shell projected by the glasses she made me, with a magical core made up of blue and red, with yellow rivers,” Ariadne spluttered, not expecting the question. Moody turned slightly to Hermione.

“That accurate to what she’s told you before, Hermione?”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied. Moody nodded, before smiling.

“Now imagine how much more fun that would have been if they were  _ both _ Ariadne, hmm?” Moody called, smirking across the room. “See, our Death Eater friend, bastard, left me quite a bit of Polyjuice Potion, and for the most part? Unimprinted. So I’ve diluted some a little for today’s lesson.” Gasps once again shocked across the classroom. “First, I’m going to take you over how to work it out. Identification questions, faded or missing tattoos,  _ constantly drinking from a flask that smells of goblin piss now! _ ” he said, pulling his flask from his coat with an annoyed expression. “If you’ve got a good nose, you can smell the stuff,” he told them, as Ron nodded darkly behind Ariadne. “Second, we’ll be testing what you’ve learned. I’ll be asking for volunteers, and think on that - someone’ll be sharing your body for ten minutes if you do, or you’ll be in someone else’s for ten minutes. It’s not pleasant, and it’s a bit weird. And fair warning, it  _ tastes _ like goblin piss too.”

\--

Professor Moody, it seemed, was a far more methodical and thorough teacher than Crouch Junior had been, but the Death Eater’s acting hadn’t been too far off - he’d merely been playing up the man’s alleged batty behaviour to compensate. After all, he’d been able to fool Dumbledore, and the two were clearly friends given the way they’d been speaking at the dinner table.

“All right!” Moody barked, once he was satisfied that the class had finished taking their notes. “Granger, get up here, you’ll be our judge,” he said, hooking his thumb to point at a stool and urging Ariadne over. Ariadne hurriedly finished up a line of note-taking and tucked her textbook under her arm before making her way to sit at the Professor’s desk. “Your eyes are better than mine!” Moody chuckled to her as he stepped away, facing the class as he took a case out from underneath the desk and set it down on top of it. “So! Who’d like to become someone else?” Half the hands in the class shot up, including Ron’s. “All right, twenty-three of you.” Hermione was among those who didn’t, but she frowned curiously at his next question. “And who’d like someone to step into  _ your  _ shoes?” Most of the hands stayed the same, although a few hands went up - Hermione’s hesitantly - and a few down, including Ron’s, who immediately dropped his hand. “All right, everyone pair up and form a line!” Moody called, prompting the class to fall into cacophony again and, eventually, fell silent as two rows of students comprising most of the class formed. Ron had paired with Seamus, and Hermione unexpectedly at the front of the line with Sally-Anne just in front of them. “Granger and…?”

“Perks. Sally-Anne Perks,” Sally-Anne replied, smiling as she regarded the man.

“Miss Perks, Miss Granger. Who’s becoming who then, hmm?” Moody asked eagerly.

“I’m becoming her, sir,” Sally-Anne replied, pointing. Moody nodded, fetching what amounted to a shot glass from a shelf and placing it down alongside one of a few glass bottles. With a grimace from Ron, Moody poured a small quantity of green-glowing Polyjuice Potion into the glass.

“Granger, going to need a hair,” Moody said, before shaking his head as she went to pluck one off her uniform. “A-a! Got a pet, Granger?” Hermione nodded. “Don’t want to use cat hair, else Perks here’ll end up in the Hospital Wing coughing up furballs for a week!” he laughed. Hermione blanched and hurriedly pulled a hand through her hair, handing him the barely-caught blue glimmer. Moody nodded and dropped it in the shot glass with a hiss. “Up you come, Perks. Essence of Hermione Granger, bottoms up!” Snorting, Sally-Anne took the glass and downed the potion.

“Eurgh!” Sally-Anne cried, retching as the tiny green glimmer began to spread across her. “That’s revolting!”

“Aye, it is,” Moody smiled as Sally-Anne cried out in pain, clutching at her arm, before turning her attention to her face that was rapidly reshaping to take on Hermione’s features, her large, slightly uneven teeth, and her hair which went from flat to wavy and then aggressively curly as it cascaded down her shoulders.

“G- Ow! Ow ow ow!” Sally-Anne exclaimed, her voice a strange amalgamation of her own and Hermione’s as she clutched at her leg, getting slightly taller to match Hermione, who was watching with a cringing expression. “Ow, that really hurt!” Sally-Anne said, in Hermione’s voice.  _ That _ was a little unnerving.

“Warned ya,” Moody said as murmurs rippled through the class at the two identical girls standing at the front.

“Is that really what my hair looks like from the back?” Hermione mused, as she observed her twin, spinning about her curiously as Sally-Anne laughed.

“Having fun checking yourself out, Granger?” she asked, making Hermione draw back embarrassedly as the entire class laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“All right… you there, feel like figuring them out?” Moody mused, turning to Lavender, who was standing by Kellah.

“Sure!” Lavender said, stepping out and standing beside Moody. “Lavender Brown, sir.”

“All right, Miss Brown, you just turn around a sec,” Moody said, before stepping forward and ushering Hermione and Sally-Anne to switch places a few times. “Don’t speak unless spoken to, you’re trying to convince her, whichever of you is Perks,” he whispered, Hermione on the right and the green-glowing Sally-Anne on the left. “All right, you can turn around now. Which is which?” Lavender turned around as Ariadne regarded the pair. It was immediately obvious to her, but she had to remember nobody else, not even Moody and his mad eye, could see it.

What she was surprised Lavender hadn’t immediately picked up on, however, was Hermione rocking on her feet ever so slightly, while Sally-Anne stood perfectly still.

“Umm…” Lavender mused. “What’s your cat’s name?”

“Crookshanks,” they both replied in unison. Lavender grimaced, thinking about it.

“What’s your middle name?”

“Jean.”

“No, no, no,” Moody mused, facing Lavender. “You need to be asking questions only  _ one _ of them would reasonably know the answer to. Something Granger knows but Perks doesn’t,  _ or  _ try trip up Perks with something only  _ she _ knows.”

“Umm… Oh!” Lavender exclaimed, making both of them jump. “Oh! Hermione, you were talking about some books the other week… there’s a character in it, Frodo Boggins. Where’s he from?”

“Umm.. Mordor,” Sally-Anne replied.

“Frodo  _ Baggins _ ,” Hermione corrected Lavender, waving her hands excitedly as Sally-Anne turned to face Hermione desperately. “He’s from the Shire, he lived with his uncle Bilbo in Bag End. He was  _ going _ to Mordor to destroy the One Ring.”

“ _ You’re _ Hermione!” Lavender guessed, pointing as all four of them turned to Ariadne, who nodded, smiling.

“Well done, Miss Brown,” Moody said, gently clapping as the class applauded. “All right, Granger, Perks, sit back down, that’ll wear off in a few minutes. You two! Mister Finnegan and… Mister Weasley, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied tiredly, wincing as he stepped up.

“So, who’s becoming who?”

“Ron’s becoming me,” Seamus replied, stepping aside and up to the front, passing Moody a hair. Another shot glass, another pour of Polyjuice. Unlike Sally-Anne, Ron barely reacted to the taste, only smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in distaste. Cracking his neck gently, Ron’s core was quickly covered in green as he groaned almost more in nausea than pain and adjusted his - now Seamus’ - shoulders. Sally-Anne scowled at him across the room as he stepped up nonchalantly, Moody raising an eyebrow.

“This one’s got a pain tolerance on him!” Moody marvelled, calling Dean up and spinning Seamus and Ron to face Dean. “All right Mister Thomas, work ‘em out,” he ordered, sitting down.

“What’s your name?” Dean asked Ron.

“Seamus Finnegan,” Ron lied. Ariadne winced at how poorly he’d imitated Seamus’ accent, even if it was in his voice.

“You’re Ron,” Dean immediately said, pointing, as the class burst into cackles and Ron embarrassedly let Ariadne nod with a smug smirk on her face before he went back to sit next to Hermione, working out which Hermione was the real one for a second. The rigamarole went on for much of the rest of the lesson, as green coatings appeared and disappeared all over the class accompanied by pained shouts. Eventually, with only a few more pairs left - including the promised hilarity of Crabbe and Goyle becoming one another - Neville and Dean stepped up, and Neville unpleasantly became Dean. Volunteering to figure them out, Ron - now himself again and having barely even noticed the change back, he’d noticed Hermione’s reaction to it more than he had his skull reshaping - stepped back up to the slightly raised front and obliged Moody to look away while Moody rearranged the pair.

“All right Weasley, give it your best shot,” he said, prompting Ron to turn back around. Ron squinted at them a little, not even speaking, just looking at the pair, as Ariadne regarded the green shell that was Neville on the right. The pair looked at him nervously as he stepped over, looking them dead in the eye each, before stepping back.

“You’re Neville,” he said conclusively, looking to Ariadne, who was just as baffled as the identical pair as she nodded and an awed whisper rippled through the class.

“How’d you work  _ that _ out?!” Dean exclaimed. “You didn’t even ask us anything!”

“He stands differently, he’s used to being taller,” Ron replied matter-of-factly. “And he wears different deodorant.” Moody snorted, what had been a confused frown disappearing just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Ha! You’re a bad actor, Weasley, but it must take one to know one!” he barked, as Ron laughed awkwardly. “All right, next!” he called, bringing up the next pair for Ariadne to arbitrate. It was perhaps the easiest practical test Ariadne had ever had, since she was effectively the marker. She’d been tempted to give opposite answers a few times and inform them they needed to check if  _ she _ was lying, but that would have added an unnecessary complicatedness to it.

After class was over, Moody stepped over to the three of them intently, grabbing Ron by the shoulder as most everyone else left the room, Ariadne already in the process of swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Do they know?” he snapped, flicking his head toward the sisters. Ron frowned, confused.

“Sir?” Ron asked.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Professor Moody growled as Ron drew back, his eyes wide.

“O-oh. Yeah, um. She can see it,” Ron mumbled, tilting his own head toward Ariadne.

“Hmph. What can’t she? Your secret’s safe with me, Weasley, but you need to learn when not to  _ flaunt  _ it,” he growled, making Ron jump in fear. “I used to be an Auror, I know what to look for. Pray your classmates don’t,” he explained to Ron’s confused expression. “Even with that scar, I wouldn’t have suspected a thing until you took that shot - you didn’t react much because you’ve had worse, you can’t put that on display, Weasley.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Ron glumly muttered.

“Don’t apologize. Do better,” Moody growled. “If you don’t want the class to realize you’re a werewolf, don’t base your deductions on your damn sniffer, pup!” he hissed. “Dismissed.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it’s me, planning to do my laundry and then postponing it twice because I forgot while I was writing. Hyperfixation strikes!


	140. Witch Weekly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne’s weekend plans are disrupted by Witch Weekly wanting an interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man my brain refused to focus on this one. Some days are ‘can write 10,000 words in less than 24 hours,’ these ones weren’t xD  
> I get back to interning twice a week this week, so some chapters might get slightly delayed, but that’s just because life exists.  
> TW: Dysphoria, insecurity and sexualization(?).

Ariadne did not like changing her plans. Especially not where Ginny was concerned. Spending the day being there for her during a stressful appointment at Saint Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was a priority, the incessant prying of  _ Witch Weekly _ wasn’t, but alas Fleur had already agreed on the time and date being that day.

Her intent had actually been to just not attend their little interview, wherein the note they’d sent had asked her to bring her swimwear for some reason, but Ginny had insisted otherwise.

“‘Adne, go. I’ll be there when you’re done, and I must say I don’t mind the idea of seeing you in a magazine. Go,” Ginny urged, poking Ariadne’s nose playfully as Ariadne blushed. “I’ll see you after, go, go be famous.”

“But…” Ariadne spluttered, struggling to find an excuse to get out of it as she shuffled about a bit on the sofa. “But… ugh,” she groaned. It wasn’t just the interview she was worried for, given how her reputation had fallen into disregard by many a conservative witch or wizard, but also the fact they’d asked her to bring her swimwear. Thus, they most likely wanted photos, and she wasn’t the most comfortable with that idea. Her uniform was one thing, and pretty dresses made her feel good. The swimwear made her feel exposed, even though she’d picked them specifically to minimize that effect. It had been bad enough putting it on to wear in front of the school, she had no interest in doing that for a magazine, the dysphoria already needling her. “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’d better fix this mess then,” she mumbled, waving a hand about her hair.

“What’s wrong with it?” Ginny asked, frowning at her as she stood. “You’re beautiful just as you are, your hair’s naturally curly.”

“They always prefer it when I’ve put a bunch of SleekEazy through it,” Ariadne admitted wryly before Ginny caught her arm.

“That’s because you never learned how to work with it the way it is,” Ginny told her, pulling her back as to crash her back onto the sofa. “Turn.” Ariadne complied, shuffling to face away from her, still smiling at the face brought into visibility behind her by her glasses. “I don’t need to go yet, so I’m going to put a braid in it so it’s all nice and wavy under a braid around the back, sound good?” she asked, gently pulling her fingers through Ariadne’s hair. Ariadne nodded. “Don’t move your head.”

“Yes miss,” Ariadne replied, resisting the urge to wobble happily.

“Okay, so,” Ginny said, pulling some of her hair up. “Can you sense this, I can never remember if you can sense your hair?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, so with  _ flat _ hair like mine, brushing it works, but honestly, the only reason you can get yours flat is SleekEazy and it’s bad for your hair, otherwise you’d just end up with frizz,” Ginny began. “So, curls want to stay together, work with them. Remind me to get my mum to tell you what products she uses, hers is more like yours than mine.”

“Wha-wha what do you use, Hermione?” Ariadne asked, without moving her head as Ginny set about braiding her hair in large sections.

“I don’t,” Hermione replied, snorting from across the table with a large book in her arms. “Does this  _ look _ like I put anything in it?”

“You don’t really have a partline, so this might be a bit rough…” Ginny murmured, as Ariadne completely lost track of Ginny’s fingers amongst her own hair as she pulled yet another set of curls up, working across her head, and continued rapidly fiddling her way back past Ariadne’s temple.

“How are you-” Ariadne hissed, bewildered by how Ginny was already holding a full braid of hair near the back of her head, pulling it out a bit to thicken it before pulling a bobby pin out of her own hair, letting the tiny braid dangling at her side disassemble itself as she extracted the wisps of presumably ginger hair that must have clung to it and pinned the end of the braid under the rest of Ariadne’s hair. “How did you-”

“Mum taught me,” Ginny replied matter-of-factly. “Want me to make it symmetrical or leave it like this? I think it’s cute either way.”

“Um…” Ariadne mumbled, unsure. “Hermione, what do you think?” she asked, facing Hermione. Hermione frowned, before closing her left eye and holding a hand up to cover the right side of Ariadne’s head, balancing her book in the other.

“Hmm… I think asymmetrical works,” Hermione replied, almost losing her place in the book as Ariadne ran a finger along her watch face.

“Gotta go?” Ginny asked, to a nod from Ariadne. “All right, c’mere,” she muttered gently, pulling Ariadne into a hug. “I’ll see you later, I’ll tell McGonagall to let you use the Floo, yeah?”

“Okay,” Ariadne replied. “Sense ya, Gin,” she said, patting Ginny on the back as she stood up, careful not to move her head too much so as to not disturb the braid before she sighed and pulled her bag up onto her shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Hermione?” Ginny said, pointing. Hermione looked up again, eyes wide at being called on again. “Can I borrow that book you were reading the other day, the one before  _ that  _ one, what was it called?” she asked.

“ _ Fellowship of the Ring _ ?” Hermione asked, frowning. Ginny nodded. “Um… sure, give me a minute,” Hermione replied, as Ariadne reluctantly stepped over the threshold of the Fat Lady’s portrait.  _ All right, let’s get this over with _ , Ariadne thought as she started on her way to the little room she’d usually met with Rita Skeeter in. Hopefully whoever  _ Witch Weekly _ had sent would be far less invasive and scathing than Rita Skeeter, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, however, she eventually found herself standing outside and meeting with Fleur, who leaned against the wall in a casual jumper and trousers.

“Ariadne!” Fleur called as she approached, waving gently. “They are not here yet.”

“Aren’t they?” Ariadne asked, frowning. “Odd, they said eleven and it’s just gone,” she added, running a finger along her watch. They weren’t early.

“Oh, that’s a nice watch,” Fleur said, looking over. “How does that work if you are blind?”

“Hmm? Oh! It uses braille, see the pins?” Ariadne replied, lifting it to show her. “I just do this,” she explained, demonstrating.

“Oh, very nice. Ah, here they are,” she announced, straightening and looking to the green-cored individual who approached them, wearing a wafting, flowing robe and a jaunty miniature witch’s hat headband that played more to non-magical stereotypes than to magical norms, atop a bob haircut and a lot of magical glamours.  _ Witch Weekly _ wasn’t exactly the most positive magazine about how a human being naturally looked, as Ariadne recalled, which she suspected affected the mentality of those who worked there.

“Ah, there! There you are, our Triwizard beauties!” the woman called, carrying a large camera. “So sorry I’m late, I got a bit lost, been a while since I’ve been here!” she said, huffing the camera back and offering a hand. “Ariadne Granger, Fleur Delacour, I’m Teresa Mallard, with  _ Witch Weekly _ , shall we?” she added breathlessly, eyes eager. Nodding politely, Fleur led them into the room as Teresa put down the tripod of the camera intently. “Okay, okay, we can do photos after questions, lemme just… Oh dear, I am never late, I am so sorry,” she quavered hurriedly feeling about her bag for a notebook and looking around for chairs.

“Tha-that-that’s all right,” Ariadne told her, glad that this interviewer at least seemed like a person as she carried a chair over for Teresa to sit on.

“Oh, oh thank you Ariadne. I can call you Ariadne, yes?” Teresa asked as Ariadne sat down as well. Ariadne nodded. “Oh good, good. Right. So.” Teresa clapped her hands together. “Question one, not in my book, what’s  _ that _ little badge you’ve got there?” she asked, pointing to Ariadne’s lapel.

“Oh!” Ariadne burst, holding up the badge. “Oh, this is a thing Hermione, Ron, Ginny and I have been doing, it’s called SPEER. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elven Employment Rights. It’s for the elves, you see,” she explained. “The ones in the castle have been trying to get pay and well, basic employment rights, but the governors won’t do it. So we thought, what if we raised awareness for them?” Fleur beamed at her as Teresa hurriedly wrote it down.

“That’s… noble,” Teresa said, thinking. “You’re getting quite the reputation for making ripples, don’t you worry how the wizarding world will see you?” Ariadne frowned. “I mean, supporting  _ werewolves _ , openly transgender, and now you’re going for house elves? Quite the black sheep.” Ariadne’s frown only deepened, suspicious of whether her impression of Teresa would need updating.

“Nn-no, I don’t worry,” she said, setting her jaw.

“Oh no no, I’m not disagreeing!” Teresa assured her, noticing Ariadne’s growing hostility. “I think it’s very good of you, but y’know, a lot of people think you’ve swanned into the magical world, taken one look at the wallpaper and decided it needs tearing down.”

“W-th-th-h-th-the magical world  _ has _ problems,” Ariadne said simply. “The non-magical one does too, but... we shouldn’t pretend we’re  _ better _ . In fact, to stick with elves,  _ we’re worse _ ,” she told her. “They have their problems, but wizards have chattel slavery!”

“Yes, even most of the rest of wizarding Europe has banned it,” Fleur added, nodding along. “I should get one of those, France has not,” she added quietly, pointing to the badge.

“Yeah!” Ariadne said. “ _ Most _ of the wizarding world, particularly South American, Pacific and African wizarding authorities, rejected the Elfbind  _ decades _ ago, but Britain, Spain, France, the United States and some others like Australia and Portugal just  _ haven’t _ .”

“Huh… I mean, this is all  _ fascinating _ and I’d love to talk about this later, but we don’t really have time!” Teresa laughed, turning the page of her book. “And I haven’t got enough paper! So. Smaller stuff, Ariadne I don’t think we’ve ever seen you with your hair quite like this?  _ Really _ suits you, that’s a lovely braid, did you do that yourself?”

“Oh, n-nn-no, G-gi-gin-Ginny did it,” Ariadne replied sheepishly, touching her curls as Teresa smiled devilishly and leaned forward.  _ Oh no, I shouldn’t have mentioned Ginny _ , she thought.

“Ginny?” Teresa asked, as Ariadne winced. “Sweet little Ginny Weasley?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you two? Pray tell, are the rumours of young love finding Hogwarts true?” Ariadne swallowed, hurriedly trying to figure out what to say as even Fleur smiled mischievously.

“I-I-I-I-I I’m-I’m I’m not… I’m not talking about that,” she spluttered, twisting the material of her jacket anxiously. Her anxiety only grew as Teresa gasped happily.

“Awwwwww!” Teresa crooned as Ariadne flushed. “Aww, you cuties!”  _ Shit, shit, shit _ .

“Pl-mm-please don’t,” Ariadne grimaced. “We-w-w-w-w-w-we… mmmm,” she grumbled. “I-I I… I’d like to leave that personal, please,” she struggled to say. “No comment.”

“Oh all right, I’ll say you declined to comment. But you  _ do _ know people will take that as confirmation?” Teresa told her, slowly writing something down.

“Then just do not mention it!” Fleur exclaimed.

“I’ll do my best, but they’re all  _ very  _ curious,” Teresa admitted. “Now, Fleur, dear. Everyone’s going after Aria here, but what about  _ you _ ?! It’s a travesty, she’s stealing your spotlight! How’re  _ you  _ doing?” she asked dramatically, diving into what she actually had been sent to ask.

Oddly, despite her nerves, Ariadne actually found it the easiest, most casual experience with an interviewer she’d ever had. Granted, she was sharing the spotlight with Fleur, which took the edge off it, but most of the questions were really very surface-level. Instead of deep questions on the nature of her life, it was more asking how they were balancing school and the Tournament, that sort of thing. Teresa had actually been surprised when Ariadne had said she intended to complete both her exams and the third task, especially given she was exempt from having to complete her exams, and she’d been more than happy to go on a tangent about study tips and classes. It was strange, to have her everyday life bleed into her fame rather than the reverse, but she had to admit it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Not only that, but she liked that it injected a little more relatability into her fellow Champion, to hear of her life in France and her family, and she almost wished  _ Witch Weekly _ had invited Viktor and Cedric. 

Eventually, however, the surprisingly pleasant interview was brought to a close and Teresa positioned herself behind the camera. Somehow, even this was more enjoyable than usual to a point, however Ariadne had to admit to herself she was deliberately facing her hips toward the camera more than her front after they’d gotten changed into their swimwear, self-conscious about the skirt and how she couldn’t help but notice it occasionally deform about her. Despite that, it elicited quite the opposite of dislike from Teresa, to Ariadne’s surprise.

“Yes,  _ show _ off those hips Ariadne!” she cried, another green cone exploding from the camera as Ariadne gasped embarrassedly, her cheeks going red. “Fleur, strike us a pose!” she added, spinning the camera to face Fleur as Fleur span a stream of sparks about herself, letting her hair flay out as she came to face Teresa with a well-timed snap of a picture. “Ariadne, another angle, let’s see…” Teresa mused as Ariadne span. “No, no, little bit more this way, that’s better,” she chided, prompting Ariadne a bit closer around to her discomfort. “Ooh, if you could like, take off your glasses - no not fully - and just hold the leg in your mouth like- yeeessssssss perfect!” she cried as Ariadne questioningly drew her glasses out in front of her and let the blue-glowing leg rest on the edge of her lips. “Oh how very coquettish!” The cone snapped out again as Ariadne flushed, but just before she doubled over in embarrassment, cheeks blazing. “Hmmm…” Teresa hummed, a finger on her cheek as she pouted thoughtfully.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ariadne asked worriedly, suddenly infinitely more conscious of herself.

“No, no…” Teresa mused. “There’s just something off, something’s missing.” Fleur frowned. “Ah! I know what it is. What’s your bra size?”

“30 A,  _ just _ ?” Ariadne said curiously, frowning in worry at what Teresa might suggest.

“That’s what it is. Ariadne dear, you’ve got hips to die for, but you could do with a little help up top. How would you feel about just a sneaky little  _ insurgo _ , just to give you that little extra cleavage?” she asked, taking out her wand and miming growth in front of herself with the other hand. Somehow blushing even more, Ariadne scowled indignantly.

“N-n-no!” she exclaimed, turning away almost protectively, remembering the spell Sally-Anne had mentioned before the Yule Ball. She couldn’t deny she was tempted, but the outrage at the suggestion was more important in her mind. How dare she?!

“What the-?!” Fleur cried, frowning disgustedly at Teresa. “She is  _ fourteen _ !” Fleur yelled, pointing at Ariadne.

“I know, I’m just  _ saying _ ,” Teresa said. “You look good Aria, but hey, I’m just saying you could look even better with a little more curve in that top. We do it all the time!” she protested. “There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just like padding your bra, honest. I’d bet half your classmates do it all the time.”

“Hey!” Fleur called, grabbing Teresa’s attention. “She is  _ already _ insecure, and you want to… criticize the size of her boobs?! Leave her alone!” As Teresa huffily put her wand away, Fleur shuffled over to Ariadne, taking her arm. “You do not have to. If you value my opinion, I think you look cute as you are, and I am sure Ginny-Gin-Gin thinks the same.”

“I don’t know…” Ariadne quavered, pondering her wand on the table. It wasn’t  _ wrong _ , she supposed, just potentially embarrassing. And there was an ever-growing speck in her mind urging her to do it, just to see what it was like, just to know. “I mean…”

“If you want to, go ahead, but I do not believe you need it. Besides, it isn’t good for them. Gives you stretch marks like you would not believe if you are not careful. I know a few tricks,” Fleur assured her. “Here.” Fleur flicked her wand in the air, conjuring what looked like a safety pin before she ushered Ariadne to turn around. Ariadne frowned as Fleur used the safety pin to pin the straps of her bra together not far below her neck. “ _ That _ should give you a bit of a  _ pull _ -up effect, hmm? And  _ if you want _ , do this,” Fleur said, shooting her hand down her one piece and scooping her left breast up a bit. Tentatively, Ariadne imitated the motion, pulling the warm flesh of her own left breast up and letting her bra hold it in place as Fleur shuffled her shoulders about to undo it. Appreciating how it altered her appearance, insofar as she could sense it, she tried it on the other side as well. “See? Who needs magic?” Fleur smiled as they turned back and resumed their little photoshoot, albeit with a slight air of hostility toward the photographer. It didn’t take long for them to run out of time, before Teresa politely said goodbye as she left the room and Fleur deflated. “Well  _ that _ was well out of line.”

“Yeah…” Ariadne muttered, as the conjured safety pin on her back vanished and her bra straps snapped back outward loudly.

“To suggest something like that to someone as young as you, my god,” Fleur said angrily, putting her casual clothes back on over her one-piece. “You have a bad enough time with your… what was the word, dysphoria, as it is!” she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. Ariadne nodded darkly.

“I um, I’ve got to go,” Ariadne mumbled. “Ginny has an appointment for her magic stuff, I said I’d go but this came up,” she added.

“Ah, of course. Go, I have things to do anyway. Say  _ bonjour _ to her for me, hmm?” Fleur replied, patting her on the shoulder. “I will see you later.”

“Sense you, Fleur,” Ariadne called as she left the room, her jumper and other clothes in a bundle over her arm as she hurriedly made her way to the bathroom to get changed. She bit her lip glumly, regarding her wand as it lay atop the bundle of clothes which rested on the lid of the toilet whose stall she was occupying as she took off the swimming top.

Just once wouldn’t hurt, would it? Shaking her head at herself, she picked up her wand and pointed it at herself.

“ _ Insurgo Mamilla _ ,” she whispered tentatively, watching as a blue wave pulsed a horrible ache through her chest and caused her to gain at  _ least _ a cup size with an entirely too loud gurgling noise, making her grateful she was alone in the bathroom. It wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as she’d expected it would be either, the blue glow that sat in her chest taunting her. It wasn’t  _ real _ . Besides, she needed to get changed, her bra wasn’t going to fit if she left them like that. “ _ Finite Incantatem _ ,” she muttered shortly, returning herself to her usual proportions and dissipating the blue glow.  _ You’ll get there one day, stop being so impatient _ , Ariadne thought as she gritted her teeth and went about getting dressed again, contradictorily missing it even as it had made her feel only more insecure in the moment, comparing herself to Hermione, to Lavender, to Sally-Anne, to everyone else in her year.  _ You don’t need spells, for crying out loud _ , she thought as she departed the bathroom, eternally embarrassed at herself for even trying it as she made her way to Professor McGonagall’s office to get sent to Saint Mungo’s in order to visit Ginny. At least there she’d be anxious about Ginny’s health, something that mattered, rather than preoccupied with her own bodily proportions.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, the insecurities of a young trans gal strike. I’m aware that magazines and such are hardly nice to young women, so unfortunately Witch Weekly does the same to Ariadne.


	141. Romantic Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne and Ginny break out their broomsticks for a date amongst the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, with a lack of canon content to use, I get slowed down by life.

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ Thought I’d check in - it’s been a while since we were able to just chat, what with all this Triwizard stuff going on. How’re you doing? I saw you on the cover of  _ Witch Weekly _ the other week so I picked up an issue, apparently you’re actually going to do your exams as well? Good lord Ariadne, you’ve got a brain on you if you can manage that.  _
> 
> _ I’ve not actually been spending much time at home - been mostly staying with Remus and your parents. There’s this ‘television show’ on called Doctor Who, two episodes so far, it’s really quite fun. They say they’ve “taped” it for you and not to tell you what happens, but I’m not quite sure what that means. You know, Muggles have some very good entertainment on this telly thing, Remus and I have been watching nature documentaries quite a bit ever since he got one. _
> 
> _ Ginny’s enjoying that Cleansweep Eight, I hope? _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Sirius. _

Two months had passed since the trials and tribulations of the Black Lake, and two months were yet to come before she faced the maze. She was sure the other Champions were sticking hard into practicing for it, but she was taking the opportunity to relax a little and focus on studying. It was the most normality she’d had in months, as she sat on the sofa, her wand in her lap as she occasionally renewed the charm on her Arithmancy textbook, her MP3 player buzzing David Bowie music on the table as she and Ron bobbed along to it. They’d also been glad to know SPEER was gaining support among some of the Beauxbatons students after Fleur had started proudly wearing one of their badges, which allegedly matched their blue robes quite nicely.

_ Witch Weekly _ , however, had not even mentioned SPEER. They’d at least not mentioned Ginny either, which Ariadne was grateful for; she didn’t need dozens of people asking if they were dating  _ on top _ of giving her much the same attention she’d had in her second year, questions about hair, about how she was balancing studying, all that. SPEER’s initial wave of growth had long since slowed after the first task, the whole school having quickly moved on, and Ariadne was finding the constant hampering of her role as Public Relations officer irritating to say the least. At least the  _ Quibbler  _ was talking about it, they’d even offered to make little stickers for them. Hermione had been considering the offer. However, the  _ Quibbler _ wasn’t exactly popular fare, having a somewhat similar ‘black sheep’ reputation to Ariadne herself in a way. Still, it was something, and Ariadne was glad of it. They’d even gotten tiny cash donations, though barely more than Dobby’s own salary and far less frequent - regardless, Ron had been happy to log them and pass them on to the elves themselves, happy to have minor busywork he could do easily over full moons.

“All right, Ron, what would you feed a Puffskein?” Hermione asked him sternly as he stopped bobbing to the music.

“They eat little crust… crusty things, what was the bloody word?” Ron replied, snapping his fingers. “Crust...crustaceans?” Almost uncharacteristically, Ron had asked the sisters to help him study for Care of Magical Creatures - he’d been increasingly worried in classes after animal after animal continually refused to even go  _ near _ him, let alone trust him, so he was determined to compensate for his shortcomings in practical experience with theoretical knowledge.

“That’s Murtlaps,” Hermione reminded him as he grimaced. His newfound interest in study was an ongoing process. “Perhaps this is why yours died?”

“I was five, I was not in charge of bloody feeding it,” Ron replied reproachfully. “And it was Fred who killed it!”

“Did not!” both Fred and George protested in unison “We were nothing but kind to old Puffles!” In a flash, Ron had chucked a cushion at George, and Hermione threw herself back from the ensuing familial hostilities with a peeping noise. Ariadne, however, was not paying attention - her attention had been drawn from both her textbook and the Weasley shenanigans by one Ginny Weasley standing at the balcony above the Common Room behind her, an awkward smile on her face as she beckoned Ariadne up. Without needing to turn, Ariadne smiled and set her textbook down on the table before making her way over to the staircase. Ariadne tilted her head quizzically as she came up the stairs to meet her, finding that behind the balcony wall, Ginny had been holding the green, arrow-like magic of the Cleansweep Eight broomstick she’d given her for Christmas.

“Hey,” Ginny breathed, a tiny bit of anxiety bubbling in her core. “I - pff, I love how you can tell what’s happening behind you. Um. I was wondering um, if you’d like to er, go for a ride together?” she asked bashfully, holding up her broomstick with a lopsided smile. 

“Um- uh-whww-wy-” Ariadne spluttered, taken off guard by the suggestion even as she couldn’t help but blush. She was in the middle of studying, and she really needed to get her Arithmancy homework done, else Professor Vector would have her head.  _ But _ , the idea planted in her head had already flourished into a gigantic garden of want as she regarded the arrowed magic of the broomstick and the contained magical core of Ginny before her, and so, as always, Ginny took the proverbial cake. “Um- yeah, sure!” she replied, noticing Ginny was misinterpreting her hesitance as her face fell slightly.

“Meet you… twenty feet out the window?” Ginny said, her happiness returning with perhaps the widest smile Ariadne had sensed on her face since Snape had caught them kissing after the Yule Ball. Spinning, her cloak flailing out behind her, Ginny leapt over to the window that stood between the dorm staircases and threw it open, cold air blasting in with the howl of wind and a gentle smattering of snow that drifted in. With a smirk, Ginny turned to her as the warbling beam of the connection between her own magic and the broom, resolute and iron-clad in its strength, snapped into being.

Ariadne’s heart dropped just as fast as Ginny herself must have as Ginny let herself fall backward out of the window. Ariadne leapt to the window herself, panicking before she heard her girlfriend - having already righted herself upon the broomstick - cackling enthusiastically and pointing at her.

“Got ya, didn’t I?” Ginny called, grinning as she floated gently in the snow, her hair billowing out in the wind. “Don’t keep me waiting!” she added, looping about tauntingly as Ariadne shook a fist at her before closing the window and hurrying to the stairs of the dorm to fetch her Firebolt. She almost tripped at least a half a dozen times before reaching the dorm, shaking her head at how each consecutive year grew the burden of climbing to her dormitory grew by another floor. She was not looking forward to having to climb seven floors of stairs back and forth every day, and she couldn’t help but wonder just how poorly the castle was designed for other disabled students. She at least could ascend them and the Blindsight charm on her glasses was immensely helpful, but someone in a wheelchair? The chair would need to be able to fly, there was nowhere in the castle accessible by elevator rather than a quadrillion stairs.

Pulling the window between her own and Hermione’s beds open, Ariadne awkwardly stood on the windowsill, balancing as she lifted the twin rows of corkscrew magic that was the Firebolt from where it usually leaned. Realizing with a shock that it had gathered dust in the months she’d not used it thanks to Quidditch not running, Ariadne brushed the fluff from the broom and set it under herself.

With a brief hop, she fell only inches before the magic of the broom made contact with hers and she was shooting off into the evening air, revelling in the lightning-fast speed of the Firebolt as she far overshot the cheering Ginny and, giggling, beckoned her to follow. It wasn’t long before, pirouetting around a shorter tower, Ginny rushed over to meet her near the peak of Gryffindor Tower, hovering only feet away.

“You’re a bit rusty, hun!” Ginny called jovially.

“Been busy not getting killed by dragons!” Ariadne called back wryly. “And merpeople, and grindylows. And Death Eaters.”

“Ha! Well, you’ve done a great job!” Ginny kept moving, spinning about. “Aaaaaaahhhh this is fun!” Laughing, Ariadne copied her motion, spinning in the air in a way that quickly made her dizzy even as her magic sense didn’t spin, rather she span within it. “Race you to the Astronomy Tower!” Ginny cried, taking advantage of Ariadne’s dizziness to get an immediate head-start as Ariadne floundered and shot off in the wrong direction. Quickly righting her own acceleration, however, Ariadne pushed the Firebolt into a charge after the taunting laughter of her girlfriend. Within seconds, they were neck and neck, hurtling across the castle at breakneck speeds, before slipping immediately ahead of Ginny and coming to a halt over the Astronomy Tower, where she didn’t have to wait long for Ginny to catch up, laughing breathily.

“Too fast for you?” Ariadne asked, a wide grin on her face as Ginny approached.

“On that, yes,” Ginny replied, beckoning her with a tilt of her head. “I’d hoped you were rusty enough to lose.”

“Never,” Ariadne grinned.

“Ah well. C’mon,” she said, flying off and pirouetting under a bridge that connected two towers before ascending. “WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” she cried triumphantly as she rocketed into the sky, Ariadne in close pursuit, the wind rushing through her hair as the castle got ever smaller below and behind her. She’d never sensed the castle from above, not like this, as her glasses pulsed all the grounds into exquisite detail with the Blindsight Charm. Unlike her experience riding Buckbeak a year and a half before, she could sense the complete shape of the castle, the grounds were devoid of magical cores by virtue of how late it was, and the errant snowflakes threw gigantic shadows over the towers and halls. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah…” Ginny sighed, levelling out far above. They were really quite high up, and Ariadne did not want to think of what a fall from that height would do to a human being.

“Having fun?” Ariadne asked happily, stopping not far away from her.

“Yeah… god… I may not be able to cast spells really well like you can, but  _ god _ I can FLY!” Ginny exclaimed, facing down at the purple bracelet that still adorned her wrist. “ _ I CAN FLY! _ ” she yelled out into the evening air. She hadn’t exactly been surprised to find that her magic was still rebalancing itself and recovering from what the diary had done to her, but she  _ had _ been glad to know that according to Doctor Tenet, the readings were promising and it had taken almost an hour for her to even begin to feel the effects of her magic’s alterations. Ariadne too had been glad to sense that the disturbing shuddering in her magic had been far less violent than it had been when she’d first rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. “I can fly,” she repeated whimsically.

“You should try out for the Quidditch team next year,” Ariadne told her, smiling at Ginny and the incredibly strong connection between her and the Cleansweep Eight. “You’re really good at flying, I bet you’d get in.”

“Think I will,” Ginny replied thoughtfully, maneuvering to hover close beside her. Ariadne jumped a little as Ginny gently pushed the brush of the Firebolt to the side a little, rotating her to face in a westward direction.

“Whatcha doin’?” Ariadne asked gently. Ginny shrugged.

“I… I know you can’t see it, but... I kinda wanted to watch the sunset,” Ginny admitted, biting her lip as she held out her left hand to take Ariadne’s. Ariadne took a hold of it, smiling at her. “I can’t decide what’s prettier. The sunset or you,” she said with a smile. “And since I can’t get a second opinion… Think I choose you.” Ariadne gasped involuntarily, a tear of joy escaping her right eye as she doubled over forward a little in embarrassment.

“You’re-.. You-you’re-you’re really pretty too,” Ariadne spluttered as Ginny floated a little bit closer. “I know I can’t  _ see _ you properly, but… I like what I  _ can _ sense.” By that point, Ginny’s embarrassed, smiling face was inches from her own as the taller girl let her broom descend a smidge to sit practically right beside Ariadne despite the footrest hooks on both their brooms. “Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, it’s cold,” Ariadne shivered as she remembered just how far up they were. She wondered if they were still below the clouds.

“Should have brought some hot chocolate,” Ginny mused, chuckling slightly.

“Hmph. Airborne picnic.”

“I’d be game,” Ginny snorted.

“I doubt physics would be,” Ariadne replied. “Even with magic, we’d probably end up sending some poor sod to Madam Pomfrey with a smashed-in skull.” Ginny snorted again, this time descending into full scale laughter as Ariadne beamed at her.

“D-d-death by coffee mug!” Ginny spluttered, making Ariadne laugh as well.

“Ehh, it’s one way to go,” Ariadne mused. Ginny slowly stopped laughing, a melancholy expression replacing her mirth as she blinked.

“Please don’t die,” she said quietly.

“Huh?” Ariadne hummed, turning to her with a confused expression, worry thrumming through her mind.

“In the third task. I know it’s just a maze, but… I’m worried. We all are,” Ginny mumbled, looking at her hesitantly. “I don’t want to lose you.” Ariadne nodded.

“You-you-youw-you wont lose me,” Ariadne assured her gently, rubbing her back in mid-air.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Ariadne replied quietly, willing her broom up slightly to allow her to tilt gently over Ginny and kiss the top of her head. “I…” she began, thinking as she descended again. Was she going to? “I… I’m thinking I might try to win it.”

“What?” Ginny gasped, her eyes going wide as she looked up at her. “You’re going to-”

“I… I dunno,” Ariadne said. “Maybe.”

“That’s… that’s awesome, Ariadne!” Ginny cried, half-laughing in shock. “How come the change of heart?” Ariadne shrugged.

“I dunno, I just… I just feel like I  _ could _ win it, you know?” she said, her frown becoming an uncertain smile as Ginny floated slightly away to face her more easily. “They threw a dragon at me and… and I killed it. I killed a  _ dragon _ ,” she murmured, the enormity of what she’d managed still hitting her nearly six months later. “I managed to get you from the bottom of the lake and I couldn’t see  _ anything _ . A maze is… it’s like nothing compared to those. I… I-I-I-I… I can do that.”

“ _ And _ you’ll have dragonhide robes,” Ginny reminded her. “That’s got to count for a lot.”

“Yeah, that too,” Ariadne admitted. “I just… I was so sure I was going to die and then…”

“And then you killed a dragon,” Ginny completed the sentence for her as Ariadne nodded, smiling at her. “Confidence suits you, ‘Adne.” Ariadne blushed again, instinctively facing away even if it didn’t change anything about what she could sense. “I knew you could kill the dragon, you know. I mean, what’s the difference between a dragon and a bb-basilisk anyway?” she asked with the tiniest flutter of her magic.

“Flight, ears, lack of murderous-” Ariadne started.

“I’m kidding, you nerd,” Ginny chided her affectionately. “You know, I stand by what I said back then. You look awesome covered in something else’s blood.” She looked over to the horizon, making a face. “Looks like you haven’t got any competition anymore,” she announced. “Sun’s gone down. Race you back to the Common Room?”

Ginny was already plummeting downward before Ariadne had even comprehended the question, but in the end, her gigantic lead had shrunk to mere metres by the time Ginny skimmed out of the dive and back into the window directly below Ariadne’s.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fluff chapter.


	142. Blood and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Third Task fast approaching, Ariadne is glad to sense her family once more as they arrive to attend the Task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Situation akin to homophobia around a closeted person, transphobia (mentioned)

**Friday, June 17th 2005**

“ _ Protego! _ ” Ariadne cried, both dodging out of the way of and shielding herself from the writhing blue Bat-Bogey hex Ron had chucked at her, before jumping right into the path of another jinx Hermione must have thrown, her sister having taken advantage of the sliver of time in which Ariadne was blind to the world and surrounded by green light to throw what she could only vaguely identify as a disarming charm at her before her wand was jettisoned from her hand by a beam of silver light. She tried to leap after it, but with a triumphant shout, Ron had already pounced on her, bowling her to the floor with a crash.

“Gotcha!” Ron exclaimed as he stood back up and Ariadne hurriedly retrieved her wand.

“You lot are enjoying this way too much,” Ariadne chided them as Hermione laughed. For the better part of a month and a half, they had resumed their routine of generalized practice, but this time, they’d had to fit it around their exam schedule. That day, Ariadne, Ron and Hermione had had their Transfiguration and Potions exams, while Ginny had had Charms and History of Magic. Ginny was worried about her grades, just as she had been the year before because of how she was unable to cast spells as easily as her peers, but Professor Flitwick had assured her that her grades would be based on her theoretical knowledge, and at least she had no such problems in History or Care of Magical Creatures. To Ron’s relief and surprise, his and Ariadne’s Care of Magical Creatures exam had included the crups again, albeit to a far lesser degree than their third year one, and the crups had  _ loved _ Ron. The boy had been sure he was on his way to the highest grade he’d achieved in that class that year… until, as he had predicted after their first lesson, the unicorn they were working with had damn near tried to stab him, forcing Ariadne to take over. It turned out, not only did the Gryffindor girls’ stairs recognize her as a woman, so too did the unicorn, which was in fact even more friendly to her than her cisgender counterparts. Her association with a werewolf, however, did make it a little skittish during the exam.

It was difficult to fit it all in, but Ariadne was determined to get it done, although she was insisting Ron study after their practices.

“All right, one last run?” Hermione suggested as they milled about the well and truly messy study room they’d commandeered. It wasn’t the same room as the one they’d started the Tournament with, in fact it was larger and littered with plentiful obstacles to use.

“I’m game,” Ron said, smiling as he put away his wand. “How ‘bout I give you a monster to worry about?” he suggested, taking an almost aggressive stance.

“Huh?” Ariadne spluttered.

“Ariadne, I’m wearing gloves for a reason. Wouldn’t want to scratch you up now would we?” Ron told her deviously. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“What do you mean  _ go easy on me _ ?” Ariadne asked worriedly. Ron raised an eyebrow and stepped over to a table, before almost effortlessly snapping one of its legs off, tossing the resultant splintered wood aside. “Oh.” Hermione and Ginny raised their wands. “Hey woah woah woah, that’s not fair if he’s-”

“ _ Stupefy! _ ” Hermione cried as Ariadne leapt backward and only managed to evade the stunner by inches, as Ron cut her off from the row of desks she was diving for with a cackling laugh as he jumped over them.

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ !” Ariadne exclaimed, sending a purple wave at Ron which only dissipated ineffectively across him as she scrambled to get away amid a hail of fire from Ginny and Hermione, not knowing which had been sent from her magically suppressed girlfriend and which were from her sister, frantically blocking them as she hurried to another set of desks to try and hide. 

“ _ Levico _ \- woah!” Ginny exclaimed as the door swung open and at least two spells slammed into the doorway to greet Professor McGonagall and as Ron took advantage of Ariadne being distracted by hurling himself at her legs and slamming her into the ground.

“OW!” Ariadne exclaimed, sitting up and clutching at her painful and seemingly bleeding nose as Ron span to see the Professor. “Ron, I think you broke my nose!”

“Did I?!” Ron span back suddenly, hurriedly taking his wand out. “ _ Episkey _ !” Ariadne fell back with a cry of pain as her nose snapped back into its original state with a spark of light. “Hey Professor,” he said, not even slightly breathless.

“Mister Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said curtly. “I must say, it is agreeable to see you all so  _ enthusiastic  _ in your extracurricular Defence Against the Dark Arts study,” she said with a wink. “Professor Moody would be proud.”

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said, putting her wand away and awkwardly pulling one of the tables back up. “Um..  _ Reparo _ ,” she whispered, repairing the table Ron had pulled apart. “Sorry about the mess.”

“Oh, not at all,” Professor McGonagall said dismissively. “I assure you, I did not come here to dish out detentions for doing exactly what you said you would do with this room. No, I simply thought I’d take the liberty of letting the four of you know that there are some people you might like to see waiting for you in the entrance hall.” Hermione and Ariadne gasped, as Ginny and Ron frowned. Ariadne knew  _ exactly _ who that meant, having been looking forward to when they would arrive for months. “You as well, Weasleys.”

“Huh?” Ron mumbled as Hermione hurried to the door. Ariadne quickly joined her, wiping her nose as Professor McGonagall simply waved her wand and bathed the room in a yellow glow, tendrils leaping about and pulling desks, chairs and various objects back into their usual places before she led them, smiling warmly, to the entrance hall. Ariadne had to resist the urge to run down the stairs, knowing she’d only trip and fall if she did.

“Mum!” she yelled as she barreled down the stairs toward the archway door they’d clearly come in through, the grey and gold figures of her parents spinning as both she and Hermione sprinted over to them. Ron, meanwhile, stopped dead in his tracks in surprise at the sight of one Percy Weasley standing with them. Not only that, but the familiar green and brown core of Sirius Black stood nearby, beaming at her as she threw herself into the arms of her mother. “Dad, Sirius!”

“Hey there princess!” Dennis laughed, pulling her into a hug as Valerie was quickly claimed by Hermione as soon as Ariadne detached from her. “So, this is Hogwarts!”

“Yeah!” Ariadne replied, as Hermione bounced about on her heels. “What do you think?”

“Those paintings gave them a scare,” Sirius joked, grinning evilly as Ariadne stepped over to him for a hug. “There’s our gal,” he murmured into her ear. “Oh, I’ve missed this place.”

“Well, we’ve barely gotten used to you lot’s photos moving, let alone your paintings,” Valerie replied with a chuckle. “We had no idea they could  _ talk _ !” Hermione snorted.

“Ron, it’s good to see- woah!” Percy cried, having been veritably run into by a clearly excited Ron. “Good to see you,” he said awkwardly, patting his younger brother on the back just as awkwardly before Ron finally let go of him. “And you, Ginny.”

“Percy. How ya doing?” Ginny asked pleasantly as she stepped over, wobbling slightly between looking to the Grangers, Sirius and her older brother.

“Oh, not so bad,” Percy replied. “Busy, but that’s the way I like it. The Department’s still readjusting after Mister Crouch’s passing. I’m here to help with the task next week, you know,” he told them, sadness in his voice over Crouch.

“So what’ve you been up to, girls?” Dennis asked as Valerie sat down on a nearby bench.

“Exams,” Hermione replied. “Had Transfiguration this morning, then Potions.”

“Right, and you teach Transfiguration, don’t you Minerva?” Dennis asked curiously.

“That’s correct, Mister Granger,” McGonagall replied. “You’ll be glad to know both of your daughters excel in my class, and I daresay in all of the classes they take. Ariadne is even surprisingly capable regarding colouration, despite her inability to see colours.”

“What does that mean?”

“For example, when transfiguring a bird into a mammal, one may need to alter the colour of its resultant fur. She does  _ occasionally _ slip up and make her transfigurations blue, but only when she’s distracted,” McGonagall explained warmly as Ariadne blushed. “Your daughters are both among my best students.”

“Heyyy, go you!” Dennis exclaimed, offering them both a high five. “Look at you, besting witch school. This must be a great place to work, Minerva.”

“It certainly is. Unfortunately, I must leave you, Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with me, and then I need to mark exam papers. Would the four of you and Mister Black mind showing Mr. and Mrs. Granger around?” McGonagall lamented.

“No problem, Professor,” Hermione replied, smiling widely before McGonagall nodded to them primly and strode from the hall.

“It’s an excellent place, but honestly, they really need to do a better job of keeping everyone safe,” Percy said as McGonagall left. “I’d expected them to get better after a Basilisk got loose and petrified two of them,” he elaborated, nodding to Ron and Hermione. “...but no, just this year, a Ministry official dies on the grounds. There are even rumours that Alastor Moody was impersonated by a Death Eater! All unsubstantiated of course, but-”

“They’re true,” Sirius told him, cutting him off. “Ariadne was the one who caught the bastard.”

“Really?” Percy spluttered, turning to Ariadne, who nodded. “Well, well done, Granger, but that’s even worse! For a Death Eater to have gone undetected for so long! Hogwarts needs to do better, and don’t even get me  _ started _ on last year, having a werewolf on the staff,  _ honestly _ .” Ariadne’s heart plummeted as everyone turned to face Percy, anger on Sirius’ face already as Ron backed off slightly, blinking.  _ No… Percy, don’t…  _

“And just what’s wrong with that?” Sirius snarled pointedly.

“You can’t just hire a werewolf at Hogwarts, who knows what could happen!” Percy exclaimed. “And Dumbledore  _ knew _ ! Someone could have been killed, or bitten!”

“ _ Nobody _ was bitten,” Sirius growled, a lie by omission.

“Even so, you can’t just have a monster on campus! It’s-” Percy responded, before Sirius shot up, making Hermione shrink back, her magical core already warbling anxiously from the brewing conflict.

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT ABOUT HIM!” Sirius bellowed, as Ron threw a quivering hand to his throat and waved it pointedly the instant Percy wasn’t looking - Sirius had been looking directly at him, and both of the Granger parents hurriedly looked away from Ron. “Percival Weasley, you take that back RIGHT NOW!”

“Take  _ what _ back?” Percy spat. “Monster? Mister Black, that  _ is _ what werewolves are.”

“You’d better stop talking about my partner like that or you’ll be losing some teeth, boy!” he snarled as Ron silently shrank in on himself, his magic shifting in distress. Ariadne could only scowl at Percy, knowing that even slightly going to Ron would give him away, heart hammering in her chest as she watched the situation unfold.

“You  _ know _ him?!” Percy exclaimed, horror in his voice. “You  _ do _ know how dangerous werewolves are, don’t you?”

“You think  _ you _ know? Listen here you little shit, I’ve known Remus since we were eleven years old, and not ONCE has he ever bitten anyone, not even before Wolfsbane existed!” Sirius said, deadly rage dripping from his voice. “He is the  _ reason _ I became an Animagus, the closest friend I have ever had, and I will  _ not _ stand by and listen to this bullshit. Remus Lupin is the kindest, most loving man I’ve ever met and he is  _ NOT _ a monster,” he told him. Percy, however, did not seem to have listened, as he huffed and stepped back.

“Don’t tell me you’ve all gone soft for him too,” Percy spat, turning to the others as Ron stood silently behind him, Ginny bearing the most horrified scowl Ariadne had ever sensed on her face. “I mean, those three went to the forest with him, how would  _ you _ have felt, if Ariadne or Hermione, or  _ both _ were bitten, turned into werewolves?!” he exclaimed to Dennis and Valerie, whose frowns only deepened.

“We wouldn’t love them any less, if that’s what you’re asking, Percival,” Valerie said slowly. “Werewolves or not, they’d still be our daughters and we would support them in everything they needed, and we  _ certainly _ wouldn’t see them as monsters. But I suppose charity isn’t universal.”

“And what if  _ I _ was a werewolf, Percival? What would you see me as then?” Ginny asked quietly, her expression and tone nothing but disdainful as her eyelids twitched menacingly for a split second. “Your sister, or a monster?”

“You’d rather die!” Percy exclaimed, turning to her

“Don’t put words in my mouth. Answer the question,” Ginny spat angrily.

“Ugh,” Percy huffed, before checking his watch. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to report in to my supervisor,” he said shortly, turning and striding away.

“Yeah, you can piss right off!” Ginny yelled after him. “Fucking arsehole!” As soon as Percy had left the room, Hermione was already beside Ron.

“Ron…” Hermione whispered, as Valerie and Dennis grimaced. “Ron, are you okay?” Ron did not respond, his chin wobbling as his whole face contorted, a high pitched whine escaping his throat as he pulled his hand away and stormed out of the door onto the path and lawns outside. Sirius sighed raggedly and made chase, followed quickly by Hermione, Ginny, Ariadne and her parents. It didn’t take long for Sirius to catch up with him as Ariadne watched his magic only getting more and more violently distressed and he eventually fell to his knees near the castle wall, sobbing.

“Ron. Ron,” Sirius murmured, laying a hand on Ron’s shoulder before pulling it away again as Ron recoiled, bobbing involuntarily as he breathed through snot and tears, inhaling sharply. “Ron, you are not a monster. Don’t believe  _ anyone _ who says you are.”

“He…He……” Ron spluttered, the words turning into cries as he struggled to speak. “ _ He’s my brother! _ ” he managed to strangle out, before doubling over forward again as Hermione knelt down in front of him, the grass crushing under her knees as she cringed at the texture. Slowly, she raised an arm to his shoulder, looking to him for approval before, instead of her hand reaching him, he leant into it and fell into Hermione’s arms, bawling into her shoulder as Ariadne struggled to figure out if she should intervene. She chose a halfway point, sitting down beside the boy amongst the wet grass and patting his back gently. Ron was clearly trying to say something, but all that escaped his mouth was a string of incomprehensible, strangled syllables as Sirius stepped back, giving them some space.

“Don’t listen to him, Ron. He’s just a prejudiced idiot who doesn’t understand what he’s talking about,” Hermione murmured, reminding Ariadne far too much of the fallout of her own public coming-out in primary school. Perhaps the worst part of it all, as Ariadne mulled over the horrible experience of the last few minutes, was that Percy wasn’t  _ wrong _ about the danger of their camping with Remus. She couldn’t help but imagine him saying what he had said to her parents to his own, when that trip  _ had _ resulted in their son becoming a werewolf. Molly loved Ron no less for his lycanthropy, far from it, she was doing everything possible to ensure he knew that, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been furious, terrified for her son.

No, Ariadne realized, that secret truth wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was within Ron himself, as she remembered the letter he’d sent before the Quidditch World Cup, addled by his second full moon.

> _ I cried and spent an hour in his old room because I could still smell him and it felt so wrong for him to go. _

Ron had always loved his family, but the lycanthropy he found himself accompanied by only intensified that. Even for Percy. The young man, his own brother, who had just called him a monster. He hadn’t meant it toward Ron, not directly, but Ron had clearly taken it as if he had, crying into Hermione’s bushy hair. And Ariadne fully understood his reaction, remembering her grandfather on her father’s side making not dissimilar statements about the queer community in the year between when she’d come out to her family and when she’d come out publicly, leading to his outright refusal to accept her in the near decade since. Ariadne suspected that even if Ron and Percy remained ‘family,’ he’d never trust Percy again, and certainly not with the information of his condition.

“For the record, I wouldn’t rather die,” Ginny declared grimly. With that, she knelt beside Ron, on the opposite side of him from Ariadne. “Ron, you are my brother and you are  _ not _ a monster. If Percy thinks you are, then he’s  _ not _ my brother.” Blinking blearily, Ron detached himself from Hermione and immediately wrapped Ginny in his arms, still crying and seemingly incapable of language.

“Good lord, he was here no more than ten minutes and he’s already made his brother cry,” Valerie sighed. “Was he always like that?” she asked Ginny concernedly. Ginny shrugged.

“He’s always been a bit of an officious dick, but I’ve never seen him like that,” Ginny replied quietly. “Gotta say I’m not surprised though,” she sighed. “There there…” she murmured, patting his back gently. Ariadne frowned gently, still mulling the hostilities over in her mind.

“So y-you and… you and Remus are.. partners-s?” she asked Sirius quietly, eliciting a bashful smile from her godfather.

“We… we were both alone for a long time,” he shrugged. “He’s a good man. As are you, Ronald Weasley,” Sirius said. “Werewolves don’t function well alone, and neither do I.”

“Is he still as good a snog as he used to be?” Ginny snorted, still comforting Ron.

“Merlin, yes,” Sirius sighed, before giving her a mischievous look. “What about my goddaughter, how’s she?” he smirked. Ginny blanched, as even Ron spluttered in half-laughter that interrupted his misery.

“She…” Ginny spluttered, as Ariadne went redder than Ginny’s dragon heartstring wand. “Decent,” she said hastily.  _ Should I consider that a challenge? _ Ariadne thought, unwilling to vocalize such things in front of her parents. Handily, it did seem to have distracted Ron somewhat, as he drew away from her with a disgusted expression. Still sniffling, although not crying anymore, he hesitantly held out an arm, wordlessly asking Hermione to hold his hand. Hermione gave him a grimacing smile as she took it, helping him up. Sirius smiled ever so briefly at them as they began back toward the castle, what he’d said rippled back through Ariadne’s mind.  _ Werewolves don’t function well alone _ .

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didja think I was just gonna keep throwing fluff at you? Me, known cruel goddess? Never.


	143. The Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the Third Task comes, and Ariadne comes prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sings Underground by David Bowie*  
> You may blame Critical Role for this chapter being a day later than it could have been. I bring thee another very long chapter, the longest in the fic!

The morning of Friday the 24th of June was perhaps the strangest day Ariadne had ever experienced. Inexplicably, she’d slept like a rock, and if it had not been for Hermione making sure she got up, she would likely have slept until lunchtime. She’d spent much of the morning and early afternoon in an odd state of apprehension, not unlike that which she had felt on the mornings of the first and second tasks, but with one distinct difference.

Ariadne Granger was not scared.

She was almost relieved to have completed her final exam - Charms - and to have nothing left in her schedule for the rest of her term but the third task. The school meanwhile, was just as wound like a spring for it as Ron was for the full moon that, to his immense irritation, had landed on top of the task. Ariadne didn’t know what was more odd - being constantly wished good luck in the corridors as she went about her day like any other, or the very fact she was going about her day just like any other. There wasn’t really much  _ else _ to do - any sort of last-minute training was out of the question, for two reasons. One, Ron was completely out of commission and on the verge of heatstroke from the absurd heat of that summer, and two, Hermione and Ginny had sequestered themselves in Ginny’s dorm and refused to let Ariadne in. Apparently they were working on something, and Ariadne was not to sense it until the task.

Instead, she’d spent much of the day simply reading as she, Sirius and her parents took care of Ron in the corner of the Common Room. Dennis and Valerie had been enthralled by the castle, and had spent nearly ten minutes simply chatting with the Fat Lady before entering the Common Room on their first day - during which Sirius had profusely apologized to the painting for his actions the year before. It was really rather endearing to watch her parents enter the chaos of the magical world and be so impressed by the tiny things she’d come to find normal - Sir Nicholas had been more than glad to take part in their tour, and they’d been very curious about the concept of deathdays as a counterpart to birthdays, that and his continued indignation at not being accepted into the Headless Hunt.

However, come late afternoon, the time for showing her parents the wizarding world and its intricacies was over, as her downright bored contemplations gave way to nerves, and not the kind she’d felt months before facing dragons and merpeople. She wasn’t scared. She was  _ confident _ , as she draped the heavy green-glowing robes over herself and felt the gloves fit themselves snugly to her hands with a blue and orange glow from the sewing marks.

“Woah…” Ginny murmured, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the sofa and gaping at her as Ariadne stepped into the Common Room, stowing her wand into one of many pouches within the robe. Butterflies exploded into her stomach as she beheld her family beaming at her, the whole Common Room turning to face her, and as a sound hit her ears.

Ron was clapping. And within seconds, so too were half the people in the Common Room, many - even Hermione - bearing magical facepaint of her initials, the recurring letter A with a lightning bolt down one side, some of her classmates even straight up bearing the name  _ GRANGER _ across their foreheads. Clearly Ginny was to blame as she stood, cheering loudly with what was obviously a whole bucket of magically imbued paint by her side, dozens of brushes coated in it adorning the table, and its use on peoples’ faces was not all. No, there were posters. Posters glowing out at her in brilliant blue. Some merely bore her name, others phrases like  _ Go Granger _ ,  _ GRANGER No. 1 _ and  _ Come on Ariadne! _ catching her proverbial eye as she could not help but hold her hands over her gaping mouth, stepping forward slowly into the room.

“You look incredible, Ariadne,” Ginny said as she approached. “What do you think? Professor Flitwick helped out.”

“I…” Ariadne breathed, spinning about in awe as most of them stopped clapping and merely faced her and the group that was herself, her family and the two Weasleys. “I… I don’t know what to say!” she exclaimed, blushing intensely as Ginny smiled at her.

“Then don’t say anything,” Ginny murmured gently. “Time for Ariadne Granger to go fucking WIN THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT!” she yelled, spinning to Ariadne’s side and tugging her arm into the air as the whole of Gryffindor erupted into a roar of support, Ron leaping to his feet shakily and cheering perhaps the closest thing to an actual howl Ariadne had ever heard from him, buried amongst the cacophony that was the whole room as Hermione jammed her hands to her ears and only let go of them once the uproar had stopped. “COME ON!” Ginny yelled again, throwing a hand forward as she led Ariadne and indeed the entirety of Gryffindor House out and through the bottlenecking door of the Fat Lady’s portrait as Ron leaned heavily on his cane and Hermione carried a large, roughly cylindrical, bundle in both arms, heading the column with Dennis and Valerie, who had at some point changed into somewhat formal clothes they must have brought with them.

“What’ve you got there?” Ariadne asked Hermione curiously, frowning gently at the bundle as her robes billowed out around her legs, flapping along the stairs.

“You’ll see,” Hermione replied smugly, grinning at her as more and more students poured out of Gryffindor Tower and Ron leaned over.

“Dunno why these buggers have to keep putting the tasks on full moons, I’m gonna have to buzz off pretty early,” Ron whispered, shaking his head slightly. “So um... good luck,” he nodded, patting her back with a loud clapping sound.

“Thanks Ron,” Ariadne replied, smiling at him.

“Well isn’t this something?!” Sirius cried, spinning on the spot to gaze back up the column of Gryffindor students that followed them, grinning like a schoolboy. “You’ve got the whole House behind you, Ariadne!”

“Hh… yeah,” Ariadne breathed, heart in her throat as she took in the atmosphere - the pulsing of her glasses struggled to keep up with the fast pace as they descended staircase after staircase, shadows in the Blindsight Charm’s wave thrown against the wall by the waving of banners and the pumping of arms in the air. The euphoric journey down to the gigantic maze was a blur to Ariadne, as she took in the magic of her foe from afar. An angry red cloud covered much of it, rippling in power but ever present over the maze like a magically-manifested fog over her sense over multicoloured walls that towered in the distance, sprawling over what had to be at least a few square miles of the grounds.

“Oh wow… that’s big,” Dennis marvelled as they started down the hill, the as yet un-broken in boots irritating Ariadne’s heels. “ _ You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth! _ ” he recited dramatically, making Ariadne scoff at him.

“Somehow I doubt Ariadne will encounter David Bowie in the maze,” Hermione said dryly, smiling slightly. “ _ You remind me of the babe! _ ” she sang.

“ _ What babe?! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed in a nasally tone.

“ _ The babe with the power _ ,” Hermione recited, as Ginny, Ron and Sirius shared utterly baffled looks.

“ _ What power? _ ”

“ _ The power of voodoo! _ ”

“ _ Who do? _ ”

“ _ You do! _ ”

“ _ Do what? _ ”

“ _ Remind me of the babe! _ ” Hermione cackled, as Sirius spluttered.

“It’s from a movie, one of their favourites as kids,” Valerie explained, shaking her head as she smiled warmly at them. “Didn’t we ever show Remus and you  _ Labyrinth _ ?”

“No, is it any good?” Sirius replied, making a face.

“It’s not bad. We’ll put it on the list,” Valerie replied, as Hermione and Ariadne gleefully sang  _ Magic Dance _ on the way, even gathering Ron to eagerly join in on the chorus after he’d picked it up, as Dennis playfully clapped Ron’s shoulder at the line  _ puppy dogs’ tails _ . Ariadne was glad of the distraction - the excited nerves in her stomach had finally begun to give way to anxiety, the maze gathering ponderously closer before she could no longer sense above its bushy walls. It wasn’t long, however, before they were in the entrance to the stands and Professor McGonagall was standing before them, smiling warmly.

“Ah, Ariadne dear, Hermione, Dennis, Valerie,” Professor McGonagall said. “If you’d like to  _ present _ your daughter to the schools, you’re more than welcome to come in with her, otherwise I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you all to leave her with me,” she said to her parents, before noticing Sirius. “Oh, hello Mister Black.”

“Professor,” Sirius said, nodding. “You two go along, I’ll save you seats,” he said, before stepping over to Ariadne. “You know, I’m sure you’re tired of hearing how much you look like them, but I look at you and I see someone who is so much more than just the sum of her parents’ blood,” he told her softly. “You don’t have  _ their _ bravery, you have your own bravery. Your own courage, your own intellect. I know you can succeed in this, because you are more than James or Lily ever were. But you don’t need a sentimental idiot like me to tell you that. Go out there and  _ prove _ that. You’ll make us all proud.” Ariadne nodded, licking her lips nervously as she bit her lip.

“Good luck, Ariadne,” Ron said, smiling weakly at her. “You’re gonna do great,” he said simply, before grimacing and casting his walking stick aside to pull her into his arms. He nodded awkwardly, grimacing as he finally uncurled his arms from around her, his eyelids ragged, Ariadne understanding how hard it must have been for him to have to go so early, not knowing if she, someone he couldn’t help but fear for thanks to the pack instincts that must have been running wild in his mind from how close the full moon was, would be all right.

“Don’t worry, Ron,” Ariadne assured him, as Hermione wordlessly stepped over to offer a hug as well. “I’ll be fine,” she added, before burying her head in Hermione’s hair and letting her big sister envelop her.

“I…” Hermione breathed, shaking her head ever so slightly before she tightened her embrace, the wood and canvas bundle she was holding digging into Ariadne’s back. “Remember everything we practiced, and keep moving. Nothing in there should be too dangerous on its own, other than the creatures you just need to navigate, and you’re good at that,” she rambled after pulling away again, strands of their mutually curly hair pulling apart. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ariadne replied breathily, nodding. “It should be okay.”

“After that, you just have to win the Triwizard Tournament,” Hermione added, almost smiling. “Good luck.”

“Thanks Hermione,” Ariadne breathed, her attention divided as Ginny stepped up for her turn hugging the second Hogwarts Triwizard Champion. Instead, however, Ginny looked around hurriedly before veritably leaping into Ariadne’s arms, her lips crashing into Ariadne’s as her heart smashed into the stratosphere, desperately trying to get a breath in as she realized what Ginny was doing before utterly failing as her girlfriend took the place of air, making her double back from the impact as the heat in her cheeks went nuclear. Then, for the briefest second, Ginny pulled back a bit, before going straight back into kissing her again as Ariadne realized that while nobody  _ else _ was paying them any mind, hidden from the crowds as they were, Sirius was grinning at them, her parents, sister and lycanthropic friend had all adopted extremely surprised expressions, and Professor McGonagall had looked away entirely.

At the same time, however, she could not care less, as she pressed into what had  _ definitely _ gone from being a simple kiss before those she loved to a significantly deeper one, and despite her embarrassment, she was in heaven. It was all she cared about in that moment, not a thought in the world for the Triwizard Tournament, that Ginevra Weasley was right there in her arms, and she was in hers. If only such things could last forever.

Both of them, however, were disturbed by Dennis clearing his throat loudly, and Ginny pulled away bashfully, smiling as she bit her lip a bit, hands still intertwined with Ariadne’s as she struggled to think of what to say.

“Don’t you dare die, Ariadne, or I’ll kill you myself,” she eventually said breathlessly, as Ariadne frowned bemusedly at her.

“Th-th-th-tha-that-that doesn’t-” Ariadne spluttered as she hurriedly straightened the askew dragonhide robes.

“Shut up,” Ginny cut her off. “I don’t care if you win or not, as long as I get to do that again later. Although… it’d be cool if you did win,” she told her as Professor Dumbledore stepped out from deeper inside the wooden supports, looking to Professor McGonagall expectantly as Ariadne noticed the music of a brass band playing, the chants of the crowd growing ever louder.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Ariadne, if you would?” Professor McGonagall prompted softly as Dennis and Valerie nodded, waved hurriedly to Sirius, Hermione and Ron, and Ginny refused to let go of Ariadne just yet.

“I love you,” Ginny said, before finally letting go, her arms lingering outward.

“Love you too,” Ariadne replied, smiling at her as she blew her a kiss. Beaming at Ariadne, Ginny reluctantly tore herself away, running to catch up with Sirius, Ron and Hermione to find a seat as Dumbledore led the three of them inside, while Professor McGonagall climbed up a small set of stairs to go above. It seemed as if Professor Dumbledore didn’t want to acknowledge the Grangers properly as he simply ushered the group in and nondescriptly asked them to join the little line of the Champions and those they were being presented by. Cedric and Amos were at the front, as they and the Grangers exchanged a wave, followed by Fleur alongside Madam Maxime and Viktor and Karkaroff. Ariadne and her parents were last, largely due to their delay more than anything else. Ariadne took in the angry red cloud that loomed outside with apprehension.

Ariadne was hesitantly nervous, as if the proverbial engine of her own anxiety had failed to start after Ginny had kissed her, spluttering as some cruel mistress turned the key to urge the engine on. She knew she should have been anxious, but it just wasn’t happening as she stood in a state of limbo, waiting to step out before the schools of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to assail the final task of the Triwizard Tournament.

“All right, Messrs. Diggory, if you would,” Professor Dumbledore said, breaking her from her dazed state as Amos nodded gladly, before jogging out of the doorway and flailing his coat out dramatically, presenting Cedric proudly to a roar of applause from the crowd above that shook the wood around them. Her mum and dad awkwardly shuffled about her as they stepped forward, the line striding onto the blue coated lawn. Maxime was far less dramatic as she dipped her head to fit under the doorway, cheers and cries of support greeting Fleur as she stepped nervously before the crowds, applause greeting Viktor and Karkaroff, who stalked behind him, a glimmer of black and white static bleeding through the High Master’s left sleeve. Finally, it was Ariadne’s turn to step out.

It was at  _ that _ moment, her anxiety roared into life and her heart hammered in her chest, far faster than the drumbeat of the band Professor Flitwick was conducting, before Valerie and Dennis jogged out of the door, spreading their arms triumphantly to reveal their daughter.

The stadium was  _ huge _ as Ariadne took a deep breath and strode out, her robes billowing out around her as she span to face the ever loudening crowd, raising her arms triumphantly. That was what she was supposed to do, right? The red cloud stopped at the edges of the maze, billowing slightly but going no further. Hundreds of people, students, teachers, officials and guests alike, stood applauding in rows that stretched for at least a hundred feet before her, their yells of support only growing as she stepped backward, glad her magic sense surrounded her completely as she took in the crowd. Magical banners were a minority, but those present all naturally supported her, designed to be visible to her - the others, she couldn’t read, but banners and signs littered the student bodies. Percy sat near the front in a box where she recognized the core and face of the Minister for Magic as well as many of the Professors, while up a ways, Ariadne sensed the unique cores of Ron and Ginny, the group of four bookended by Ginny and Hermione, who immediately coordinated something as Ariadne stepped out.

Splaying out from her girlfriend and her sister rose perhaps the largest banner in the entire crowd, blaring out at her in magical ink as Hermione and Ginny hoisted the two wooden poles into the air and above the heads of Ron and Sirius, stepping out into the saved seats beside them to widen it out.

_ ARIADNE GRANGER: THE #1 TRIWIZARD CHAMPION! _ it read, tiny flecks of magic surrounding the words, that she realized were  _ signatures _ . She couldn’t read them at that distance, but from how many there were, it had to constitute most of Gryffindor House.

Ariadne hadn’t even realized she was smiling as Dennis and Valerie put a hand each on her shoulders as the Champions milled about the grass and Professor Dumbledore stepped up onto a small plinth in the centre of the lawn. Confident euphoria bubbling beneath her anxiety, Ariadne raised her right arm to wave to the crowd triumphantly, specifically up to where Sirius, Hermione, Ginny and Ron were standing. Dumbledore frowned ever so slightly at her, almost more surprised than anything else, before himself waving to the crowd in an attempt to get them to quiet. Nobody noticed, as the band continued playing, the dancing chants of Beauxbatons continued, and the cheers and yells filled the air.

“ _ Sonorus! _ ” Dumbledore called, pressing his wand to his throat with a sickly purple glow. Professor Flitwick jumped and stopped conducting, causing the band to break off discordantly as the crowd reluctantly sat down. Hermione and Ginny carefully leaned their massive banner forward so those behind them could still see. “Earlier today, Professor Moody placed the Triwizard Cup deep with in the maze!” Dumbledore declared, the magic pushing his voice out into the crowd loudly. “Only he knows its exact position. Now, as Miss Granger-” he began, being cut off by a massive roar of applause, cheers and whistles that set Ariadne’s cheeks ablaze as her parents pulled both of her hands into the air. “...Is in first position, she will be the first to enter the maze, followed by Mister Diggory-” another wave of cheers and clapping flowed through the crowd, but Ariadne could not help but notice with some smugness that it was not as enthusiastic as her own had been, even as she gently clapped for him. “Mister Krum, and Miss Delacour,” he finished, as the crowd continued to show their support, Karkaroff egging them on before Professor Moody’s blue, green and golden core quickly vacated one of the four entrances. “The first person to touch the Cup will be the winner!” he declared. “I’ve instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter. Should at any point a contestant wish to withdraw from the task, he or she only need send up red sparks with their wand.”

“You know the spell for that?” Dennis asked Ariadne quietly, leaning down.

“Yep,  _ Periculum _ ,” Ariadne replied, still facing the Headmaster.

“Contestants, gather ‘round!” Dumbledore called, beckoning them all with his wand. “Quickly!” he added, Ariadne already on her way from her parents to the man as the four Champions came together before him in a circle. Draping his arms around Viktor and Fleur, who were closest to him on either side as they’d unintentionally maneuvered themselves to position the girls on his left and the boys on his right, he leaned in to speak to them, the purple glow fading from his throat. “In the maze, you’ll not only find creatures of the night and dark. You will also face something far more challenging,” he murmured, his tone gravelly. “You see, people  _ change _ in the maze. Oh find the Cup if you can, but be very wary, for you could just lose yourselves along the way.”  _ That _ was the red cloud, Ariadne realized as she mentally eyed it. It  _ was _ fairly similar to Fleur’s own purple aura in a way, and she idly wondered if Fleur would be immune to its effects thanks to the fraction of Veela blood in her veins.

Contemplations of what Dumbledore may have meant filled her mind as she internally stared grimly at the cloud. Magic like that could do all sorts of things to a person, from the minor enhancement of attraction applied by Veela to rewriting memories or personalities at worst. She did  _ not  _ want to lose her own sense of self in the maze. She was, however, broken from her pondering by Cedric’s arm finding itself on her back, his other on Krum. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Dumbledore stepped away, as Krum nodded and followed suit, the four of them huddling together with their arms behind each other’s backs.

“Been a hell of a year,” Cedric said quietly, to a chuckle from Viktor and Ariadne. “No hard feelings to whoever wins. You’re all great friends.” He withdrew his arms, putting his right hand into the centre of the group. “May the best Champion win.” Ariadne nodded, placing her hand atop Viktor’s, as the boy had followed suit immediately, Fleur’s on top of her own.

“Perhaps my namesake will bring me luck,” Ariadne mused, to a frown from Viktor and Fleur. “Princess Ariadne of Crete helped Theseus escape the Labyrinth and slay the Minotaur,” she explained.

“Didn’t Theseus abandon her on an island?” Cedric asked.

“She  _ also _ goes and marries Dionysus, to be fair. But there are numerous versions of the story,” Ariadne replied, smiling to laughter from Fleur.

“Well, perhaps  _ our _ Princess Ariadne will go and marry Ginny,” Fleur joked, making Ariadne laugh, blushing.

“Pff. Well, good luck everyone- Is… is that dragon leather, Ariadne?” Cedric asked quizzically, looking up and down her as they started to part a little.

“Welsh Green. Do you like it?” Ariadne replied smugly, smiling at him as his face turned to one of awe.

“That is… badass,” Viktor hissed, gaping at her. “You do not need luck, we should divide her luck between ourselves,” he cackled, waving a hand as Ariadne scoffed, beginning over to the entrance marked with magical paint, clearly meant for her - the others bore identical signs presumably painted in mundane colours. 

“Champions! Prepare yourselves!” Dumbledore yelled as they parted to their respective entrances and Dennis wrapped Ariadne in a hug.

“Good luck, Ariadne,” Dennis whispered, before letting Valerie take hold of Ariadne.

“You can do this,” Valerie told her, leaning into her dragon-hide adorned shoulder. “Like Sirius says, you’re the smartest witches of your age, if anyone can do it it’s you. And remember, you can withdraw at any time,” she added.

“Thanks Mum,” Ariadne replied, as they parted and Professor Dumbledore ushered Amos away.

“Oh, um, we’d better go,” Dennis said hesitantly, kissing Ariadne’s hair briefly before shuffling away at Professor Dumbledore’s instruction. Ariadne waved back at them, before plunging her hand into her robe and pulling out the golden rod that was her wand, as Ginny and Hermione once again stretched out the gigantic banner they’d made far above. Ariadne cracked her neck dramatically.

“On the count of three!” Dumbledore called, pointing his wand at her as Filch stood beside the cannon to her left. “One!” 

BOOM

With the crash of the cannon, and a disdainful look from Dumbledore, the band rang back up again in earnest as Ariadne took a deep breath and stepped forward.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the maze, the red cloud began gently wafting through her, filaments stretching out at her magic and tapping at it experimentally.

“Okay, we want to not let that do too much,” she murmured to herself as she took in the blue and green magic surrounding her that was the walls and the corridor that stretched far far forward before her. Behind her, the configuration of the multicoloured walls shifted, and the rustling leaves of the hedge maze crunched together behind her, turning the open sliver into a wall. “ _ Ergo _ , the maze can change shape. Good to know,” she muttered. “ _ Acciopharum _ Triwizard Cup,” she cast, a yellow beam shooting out and ahead to her left a ways. The walls were tall, but the beam of her beacon was taller and pierced into the sky far away from her. “Just gotta go in that direction. Piece of cake,” Ariadne said, glancing about pensively after saying that. “Nothing?  _ Piece of cake _ ? Okay, cool,” she joked to herself, before beginning her stride down the long corridor that fell before her. She didn’t run, knowing anything could be lurking around the corners, let alone that there could be all manner of traps waiting for her, but she did jog down the extraordinarily long passage.

“Hmph. It just goes on and on,” Ariadne sniffed, smiling slightly. “At least there are turns and openings. Aha,” she said, eventually reaching a crossroads that consisted of near a dozen pathways, diverging diagonally. Gravitating toward her beacon, she took the first one on the left. “ _ If she’da kept on going that way, she’da gone straight to that castle! _ ” she recited from the movie with a brief laugh to herself, before returning her concentration to the task at hand. The deeper she reached into the maze, the stronger the cloud would become, the quicker she’d need to get out of it, and the more complex the maze quickly became. Luckily, however, she was making good ground, opening after opening dismissed as she strode in the  _ approximate _ direction of her beacon. The path she was on wasn’t quite on the correct course even with its exceptionally long reach, but it was the closest if about ten degrees off. Ariadne would have been worried that she was on the complete wrong path, that she’d eventually run into a point of dozens of dead ends, but there was one fact that stiffened her resolve. Professor Moody had placed the Cup _ somewhere _ in the maze. Not at a specific end point. Thus, it could not possibly be a maze with only one possible route, it  _ had _ to be a maze where one could, theoretically, navigate by proximity.

_ BOOM _

Cedric had entered the maze.

“ _ Acciopharum _ Triwizard Cup,” she repeated as the beacon began to fade, the yellow arm giving her an exact idea of what direction the Cup was from her.

To her great irritation, the long pathway that had so faithfully brought her closer to her aim finally ended, but she supposed it could not have lasted forever, far from it. No, they would not have made it so easy on her. Grateful for her impeccable sense of direction and her proverbial compass needle, she took the leftmost fork closest to the end and took a far more defensive stance with her wand. These sections bore complex pathways, and as such, more spots for critters and beasts with it out to get her to hide within.

“I’d put down arrows, but I really don’t trust you to stay still,” Ariadne murmured to the walls around herself as she rounded a corner to begin down another set of sprawling passageways, angles askew and diagonal, discordant from their partners. “Plus, I don’t need to,” she chuckled, as she span on the spot - her magic sense did not even slightly change its orientation as she span. Ariadne’s sense of direction had always been terrible in regards to what way she was  _ facing _ , but in what directions things were from her, she was unparalleled. It was for that reason she always knew where north was, or at least from home. She suspected it might differ if she found herself at another longitude. “Hmm,” she hummed, regarding a pair of pathways before her. “ _ One of these doors leads to the castle at the centre of the Labyrinth, and the other one leads to! Bababapum! Certain death! _ ” she muttered as she took the leftmost ‘door,’ keeping a proverbial eye out as a cacophonous rustling noise filled the air a long way from her. Whether it was simply a large beast or an ambient danger inherent to the maze, she didn’t know, but that didn’t really matter.

Ariadne frowned as something stuck out in the red fog surrounding her, the fog that lay overlaid over the blue and green of the maze, but that was not itself the fog even if it was red. No, long tendrils splayed out into the corridor from a side path on the right. Squinting pointlessly, wand before her, Ariadne approached the tendrils curiously, before she realized exactly what it was, a disgusting sucking noise filling the air as some of its tendrils latched onto her, a floating red sphere swinging into the corridor with the sound of a Dementor. Tilting her head mockingly, Ariadne closed her eyes and let herself fall into her own past.

> _ “But hey, doesn’t matter,” Ginny said matter-of-factly, shuffling about on her skirt a little in the carriage. “What do you want to do  _ right now _?” she asked. _
> 
> _ “I dunno,” Ariadne replied, imagining exactly what she- _
> 
> _ “Well  _ I  _ want to kiss you,” Ginny said. “Do you want to… um… do you want to kiss me, Ariadne?” _

“ _ EXPECTO PATRONUM! _ ” Ariadne bellowed, throwing her wand forward as the memory of vanilla chapstick coating her lips filled her mind, a great blue cloud of energy billowing out at the Boggart and quickly forming into the cackling form of an arctic fox. The laughing canine harried the Boggart back into its little nook, before Ariadne willed it to return to a gaseous form and simply hold the Boggart where it was.  _ You just sit right there,  _ she thought smugly as she heard the boom of a cannon fill the night air for a third time. Viktor had entered the maze, and she picked up her pace. She couldn’t assume that the others wouldn’t bumble in the correct direction, even if she took some pleasure at their lack of her little spell.  _ They _ hadn’t made spells designed to be useful in just this sort of situation, and that was their own problem. Still, dumb luck could not be underestimated, she thought as she snorted at the poorly hidden blue-glowing vines that ran underneath a stretch of wall.

“Oh dear me.  _ Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare, it’s deadly fun but it sulks in the sun _ ,” she sang cheerfully. “ _ Lumos Solem _ ,” she said calmly, bathing the Devil’s Snare in invisible sunlight from a white-glowing point at the end of her wand, a screeching hiss escaping it as she strode through its little trap zone. Did they seriously think Devil’s Snare would bypass her notice? Flexing her fingers through the gloves, Ariadne contemplated the next little split in the path. Again observing her  _ acciopharum _ compass dial, she chose the rightmost. She was getting closer, but she still had a ways to go as a loud clicking noise erupted from a ways to her right, before it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound friendly as she kept her wand poised slightly to her right and kept moving. She was wearing dragonhide, none of the lowly creatures of the night could hurt her, not Ariadne Granger. The others, well, they hadn’t killed a dragon for its hide. Too bad.

_ Boom. _

Fleur had entered the maze. Going off how distant it had been, there was no way she would catch up with Ariadne. She wondered how far behind Cedric was. Smiling curiously, Ariadne stopped in place.

“ _ Acciopharum _ Cedric Diggory,” she whispered, the yellow arm of her spell shooting off to the right and behind her a ways. She couldn’t really tell distance easily with the damned maze walls as high as they were, but she did not like how little time it took for the arm to reach him and send the beacon up. Diggory was too close. Viktor and Fleur she could probably ignore, but Cedric was a threat. “ _ Acciopharum _ Triwizard Cup,” she muttered darkly, returning to her hell-bent stride toward the beacon in as close a direction as she could.

Click-click click

There it was again. Closer that time, Ariadne realized as she stopped cautiously.  _ What are you? _ she mused, before it happened again. Clickety click click click.

The void-like red-tinged sky above her exploded into blue as the Blindsight Charm caught a gigantic pendulous body atop eight spindly legs leap into the sky above her from a corridor to her right. An Acromantula, and a big one at that, she immediately realized as she dove backward, its clawed legs glancing off of the trail of her boots and robes with no effect.

“ _ Arania Exumai! _ ” she yelled, thrusting her wand forward angrily with a yellow blast of energy that shot out at the Acromantula with all the force of her rage and sent it toppling backward, its pincers clacking angrily at her as it rolled onto its own legs. The gigantic spider hissed loudly, breaking into a horrifying charge, its legs running up the sides of the walls as Ariadne took an aggressive stance. “ _ Spiculum! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed, slashing her wand through the air viciously and sending at least a dozen arrows splintering into its eyes and soft underbelly. Smirking as it recoiled, Ariadne adjusted her aim a little. “ _ Bombarda! _ ” she added, letting the red bead bounce off the blue and green walls and into its carapace, eliciting a clicking roar of pain from the spider. “ _ Bombarda _ ,” she added, this time aiming for its weaker tissue as the bead slammed into the side of its abdomen and tore most of its legs off with a concussive, sickening BOOM! The angry spider, however, was not content to let Ariadne mutilate it so, as it angrily dragged itself on the three legs it had left, before Ariadne cocked her head and pointed her wand at it again with a bemused smile. “ _ Petrificus Totalus _ ,” she said sweetly, the glorious purple wave slicing through its form and surrounding it, leaving the Acromantula frozen. “Leave you here for Cedric, I think. It’s only fair,” she told it snidely, wafting her wand playfully as she strode past its body toward the beacon.

She gave it a good ten minutes of walking before she relaxed the  _ Petrificus _ spell and released the wounded Acromantula. After all, she didn’t want it coming after her again, that would just be pointless. She was getting closer too, less than a thousand feet of cursed maze between her and her goal, she estimated. Victory was within her grasp, she just needed to get to it. But damn near  _ no _ path would go in the correct direction as she ran into dead end after dead end. Frustration urged her to just blast her way through, but she knew that wouldn’t work after her attempts upon the Acromantula had bounced. 

She faced up, alert as the blue and green magic shifted, snapping noises and howling wind filling the air as she dove backward just in time to avoid a crushing wave of branches crashing down upon her. Heart hammering in her chest, she sprinted back the way she had come, twigs and leaves flailing out at her, bramble filling in what had just been a path, now just a wall as the cacophony of branches finally fell quiet, letting her hear other sounds as she caught her breath. Yells of incantations, most definitely the voice of Cedric Diggory, accompanied by the blasts of fire and magic. A familiar noise to her, as Cedric yelled out again and again, his castings becoming more and more desperate as clacking legs approached him. It wasn’t the Acromantula, no, Acromantulae didn’t burst fire. However, Hagrid’s little crossbreeding project of Blast-Ended Skrewts did, the legs a very familiar sound to Ariadne after being tasked with feeding the creatures in class.  _ Hagrid would be proud _ , Ariadne thought as she searched for a way closer to the beacon. She couldn’t let Cedric get to it first, it was  _ hers _ , but he was far too close. Dead end after dead end after dead end threw itself into her way as she heard Cedric running, his footsteps getting ever so closer before he yelled out suddenly, terror filling his voice. Perhaps the Skrewt was getting the best of him, Ariadne decided idly as she jogged about, before, at a crossroads in the hedges, she sensed him and the Skrewt. It seemed he’d been disarmed, as he struggled to dodge around the twelve-foot-long massive armoured creature that was the Skrewt, gouts of flame invisibly pushing him back as a stinger lashed out at him.

“ARIADNE!” Cedric yelled desperately, as Ariadne realized his wand was on the other side of the creature from him. “ARIADNE! GAA!” he cried as the Skrewt took advantage of his distraction and pounced on him, its powerful multitude of legs throwing him to the ground as it tried to stab him with its stinger. The beacon was in the other direction though, as Ariadne turned and returned to her attempts to find the way to the Cup, vanishing around a corner as Cedric screamed out, pleading her to come back. It didn’t matter if Cedric died, as long as she got the Cup.

_ What? _ Ariadne thought, stopping and frowning at herself.  _ What the  _ **_fuck?!_ ** she exclaimed internally, before realizing with a horrified jolt that below her magic sense, layered over her magical core in angry red ropes and sinew, was layer upon layer of mind-altering red cloud, that vanished suddenly as she regarded it, leaving only the contract of the Goblet of Fire upon her magic.

> _ Oh find the Cup if you can, but be very wary, for you might just lose yourselves along the way _ .

_ OH FUCK! _ exploded through her mind. Cedric needed help, as she sprinted back toward him. The Skrewt was well and truly atop her fellow Champion, and there were several fresh splits in his clothes - its legs were scraping away at him as he screamed her name.

“ _ BOMBARDA! _ ” she yelled, diving down to the ground to get a direct line of sight upon the weak, fleshy underside of the Skrewt, an angry red bead slamming into its abdomen and sundering it brutally with a horrible SQUELCH that sprayed blue-coated viscera all over the panting Cedric. Horrified by what she had just nearly let happen, Ariadne quickly pulled herself over to his silver-glowing wand and grabbed it. His core was completely unaffected by the red glare about them, and so once he’d stood up to match her, she held his wand out to him.

“Thanks,” Cedric said, panting as he took his wand back, wincing at a pain in his arm and clutching at his leg.

“No problem,” Ariadne breathed, her mouth still hanging open. She hadn’t even  _ noticed _ the maze gathering its clutches about her mind.

“Eurgh…” he groaned, waving his other arm to let a strand of goop slap onto the ground. “You know, for a moment there, I thought you were gonna let it get me,” he said shakily, as Ariadne blinked.

“I was,” she replied, her mind still racing as she paid close attention to her own core. “ _ People change in the maze _ ,” she recited, before the memory jabbed back into her mind. “Oh god… Cedric, I lef-I lef-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I left an Acroman-man-mancha-mancha-Acromantula bb-b-b-b-bb-back there!” she cried, pointing wildly as Cedric smiled.

“That was you? Don’t worry, it only had like three legs and no eyes left, wasn’t a problem,” he assured her, patting her shoulder. “You were all… maze hazed, wasn’t you  _ really _ .”

“Pff. Maze hazed,” Ariadne repeated, entertained by the wordplay but not by the implication. She hadn’t even  _ noticed _ herself become some twisted, horrible person who left behind monsters to whittle down her opponents on her quest for a prize she’d never even wanted. She’d never even considered them opponents, but as soon as she’d walked into the maze, it had begun making her into someone who did.

“Some game, huh?” Cedric said.

“Some game,” Ariadne agreed numbly. “Hey um, I know where the Cup is, just trying to get to it. I’ll show you,” she said glumly, beckoning him the way she’d just come from.

“How?” Cedric spluttered, following her with his wand out cautiously. “Oh, same thing you did with Ginny last time?” he asked, inciting a nod from Ariadne. “Clever.”

“Thanks,” Ariadne muttered, leaning into a new path. “Come on, there’s got to be…” she started, trailing off as the magic around them changed. “RUN!” she yelled, throwing herself into a haphazard sprint as the billowing leaves around them crashed inward again, Cedric following suit a split second later as howling wind tore at them, pushing them onward as Ariadne’s eyes went wide.

It was pushing them directly toward the glimmer of a blue beam in the sky, her  _ acciopharum _ beacon, as well as another glistening point of golden magic.

The Triwizard Cup.

“THERE IT IS!” Cedric bellowed over the howling of the wind, the hammering of his footsteps right behind Ariadne’s as they sprinted toward it, leaves flailing past them as the ornate form of the Cup stood perfectly still upon a plinth in the middle of a wide clearing. Coming to a frantic halt, Ariadne cast her sense about as she realized the air in the clearing was completely devoid of the red haze of the maze, and the blue and green roots of its walls did not permeate the ground.

_ Of course _ … she thought.  _ Of course it’d be a safe zone, otherwise the Cup might get crushed! _ she thought, still skidding to a halt with Cedric beside her.

“Go on, take it!” Cedric yelled at her, the wind still howling even if they were in no danger - a fact Ariadne realized he didn’t know, as he frantically threw his gaze back at the quickly sealing pathway in fear. “You saved me,  _ take it! _ ”

“I almost left you to die!” Ariadne retorted. “I don’t deserve it, I never wanted to win anyway!” she yelled. “You take it!” Cedric shook his head.

“Granger, this whole tournament I’ve been trailing in your shadow!” he yelled. “You’re the winner, take the bloody Cup!”

“No!” Ariadne yelled back, hoping in his desperate fear of the still rapidly closing hedges that he’d take it just to make sure they both stayed safe.

This was not what Cedric did.

Instead, Cedric dove toward her, grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face the Cup. Before she could protest, her larynx producing only spluttering syllables, he’d pushed her forwards, throwing her into the plinth.

Ariadne’s flailing arms caught the handles of the Triwizard Cup to stabilize herself.

The contract around her magic vanished with a silent snap, as did that of Cedric’s magic. The Triwizard Tournament was over.

And the maze fell silent, the blue and green magic falling into dust as a rush of green and yellow magic surrounded them. Wind rushed through her hair like a hurricane, as Cedric marvelled at whatever was happening around their little bubble before-

The bubble snapped.

The orchestra started playing, as the Blindsight Charm pulsed out the stands where she’d first entered the maze, the hedges completely gone, withered away with a wide plain of grass where it had once stood. Still only feet from her, Cedric stood, beaming at her as Fleur now stood a dozen metres away, and Viktor on the other side of the lawn.

And her ears were split by the roar of applause, as the voice of Cornelius Fudge’s magically enhanced voice boomed out over the stadium.

“ _ AND THE WINNER OF THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT IS… ARIADNE GRANGER! _ ”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH I had fun with that one!


	144. We Are The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne reacts to the revelation that she has won the Triwizard Tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a bit delayed because I really needed to go about planning chapters, It is also too hot to think in New Zealand, I overheat way too easily, and I got distracted by my long-standing hyperfixation on the Flying Dutchman and Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s a wonder I’ve managed to write 400,000 words in like six months.

The band was playing. Her ears were being split open by the cacophony of noise as Cornelius Fudge’s voice boomed out across the stadium and it exploded in applause, but all she could hear was her heartbeat as she stood, gaping at the surprisingly light, golden-glowing metal trophy that hung from her arms.

The Triwizard Cup.

Her mind was like molasses as Fudge’s words echoed in her mind, not really processing what on  _ earth _ had just happened amidst the tail end of the adrenaline burst that had urged her away from the walls that had crashed down upon them, to sprint away and coincidentally toward the Cup. She could still feel the impact of Cedric hands slamming down onto her shoulders before shoving her at the trophy that she now held bobbing through her arms.

She had won the Triwizard Tournament. Reality came crashing back to her as she processed that fact, Fudge’s voice filling the stadium and a cataclysmic shout of joy burning into the night as Cedric started wildly clapping, whistling loudly as Fleur and Viktor, disoriented by their sudden reappearance in the entrance, slowly followed suit, gaping at her. A breathy laugh, more of surprise than amusement, filled her throat as she stood, stunned before the crowd as her ears started working again.

“She did it!” she swore she heard Sirius exclaim, high fiving a man who Ariadne realized with a shock was Arthur Weasley, alongside Amos Diggory and her own parents as she looked up, smiling lightly as the very distant, almost buried in the rest of the noise, but definitely present sound of a wolf’s howl met her ears. The green cones of magical cameras snapped out in unison, becoming chaos around her as her parents, Sirius, Ginny and Hermione clattered down the stands, having abandoned the massive banner they’d been holding triumphantly, as Sirius’ coat flailed out behind him in the wind and Hermione barrelled across the lawn like a cannonball. Hermione only stopped, a few feet from the dazed Ariadne, her arms out for a hug ponderously as endearing laughter rippled through the applause, because both girls were wordlessly trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with the Triwizard Cup.

“Er, um…” Ariadne spluttered, pulling herself together as she let go of it from one hand, the weight of it swinging into her right hand and to her side so she could wrap her left arm around her sister gratefully, before Ginny slammed into what quickly became a hug-pile, Ariadne finding herself at the suffocating core of the group, trying not to poke anyone with the Cup. Her family and girlfriend were not the only ones either, as Hermione’s toothy, braces-adorned smile filled a section of her magic sense. No, it seemed like a huge segment of Hogwarts’ population was flooding onto the lawn, gradually being parted by a group of lesser officials including Percy as the Minister for Magic strode slowly toward the group, holding something she couldn’t quite sense through the crowd.

“Well done Ariadne! Well done!” Dennis yelled over the ruckus as they slowly undid the pile and Hermione wrapped her arms around herself as if to continue the pressure of the hug, jumping up and down on the spot excitedly. “You did it! You won!” he cried, slapping her shoulders happily.

“I… I-I-I…” Ariadne spluttered, still hardly believing it herself. “I mean… I mean… Cedric, he- he should- he should have-”

“Take the damn win, Ariadne,” Cedric told her, smiling widely as he stepped over. “You deserve it.”

“Damn right you do,” Sirius added, as Viktor and Fleur hurried over.

“Holy shit well done Ariadne!” Ginny yelled, beaming at her incredulously. “Well  _ fucking _ done!” she added, shaking Ariadne’s shoulders excitedly.

“You won?” Viktor half-yelled. “Incredible! Haha! I told you she did not need luck!” he exclaimed, slapping her shoulder with a beefy laugh, before Fudge finally reached her.

“Congratulations, Ariadne!” Fudge cried, spreading one arm triumphantly, the other holding what amounted to a small sack. “Hogwarts’ black sheep, now the Triwizard Champion!” he added, as Dennis exchanged a confused whisper with Sirius. “Ah! We’ve not met before, you must be Ariadne’s adoptive parents! Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic,” he said, offering a hand.

“Valerie Granger, and my husband Dennis, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” Valerie told him. “So you’re kind of like the… the wizarding Prime Minister?”

“In a sense, yes. But I’m not the important one, am I! My my you’re gathering titles, aren’t you Ariadne? You two must be very proud,” Fudge replied. 

“That we are,” Dennis replied, patting Ariadne’s shoulders through the dragonhide robes.

“The Girl Who Lived, the White Eyed Wonder and now, Triwizard Champion! Ariadne Granger, as Minister for Magic, it is my  _ pleasure _ to present, as promised, your prize of one  _ thousand _ galleons!” he said gladly, holding out the bag he’d been holding. With her mouth hanging open, Ariadne reached out and shakily took it, before hurriedly snapping her right hand underneath it, dropping the Triwizard Cup as the bag threatened to pull her to the ground from its surprisingly huge weight. While she knew it was little more than a drop in the proverbial bucket of the fortune she’d been left by her birth parents, the sack of coins she now held really drove home just how  _ much _ of a fortune she’d been left.

“Oop!” Ginny exclaimed, picking up the Triwizard Cup hurriedly. “Er, what do I do with this?”

“ _ That _ I think I’ll take for the moment, need to engrave young Ariadne’s name into it!” Fudge said, carefully taking the golden Cup from Ginny. “Should have it  _ all  _ ready for you to take home in the morning,” he told Ariadne warmly, patting her on the shoulder. “Do enjoy your evenings, all of you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,” he said, before taking the Cup and waffling back off to the officials and Percy.

“Oh my god, what was it like?!” Ginny exclaimed, leaning into her eagerly as much of the crowd began to disperse from the stadium, an energy of excitement prevailing although one that perhaps wanted sleep, how late it had become most likely digging into many eyelids. Ariadne grimaced, a spike of guilt running through her mind as she remembered the numerous cruelties that had seeped into her mind thanks to the now nonexistent red cloud.

“It…” Ariadne mumbled, regarding the coin in her arms pensively. “It… you saw,” she said glumly.

“No, we didn’t actually. Bit of a bad spot for the stadium, not gonna lie,” Ginny replied. “Why, what happened?” she asked concernedly, frowning at how suddenly forlorn Ariadne had become.

“The… the…” Ariadne murmured. “Ugh… There was a… a thing the maze did. It wasn’t just creatures in there, it did stuff to us. I… I… I left an Acromantula behind, hoping it would kill Cedric,” she said, to utter perplexed horror from her parents. “I almost left him to die before I realized what was happening to me.”

“So it.. The maze changed you? But you’re good now?” Ginny asked, as Hermione gasped in horror.

“Yeah, yeah, it stopped,” Ariadne replied, deliberately focusing on her own core to double-check herself for its red glaze as Ginny rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re all you again. And Cedric’s okay, looks like, so you didn’t actually hurt anyone,” Ginny assured her, pointing over to Cedric, who was smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, it was pretty much dead, I just put it out of its misery,” Cedric told her. “Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, have you met Viktor and Fleur?” he asked, beckoning the other two Champions back over.

“Oh my word, Viktor Krum, yeah? And Fleur Delacour?” Dennis marvelled as he turned to face the other Champions, who stepped over, smiling. Viktor shook his hand, shortly followed by Fleur. “Mister Krum, I was at the World Cup last year, I must admit I have nothing to compare it to but your flying was phenomenal!”

“Oh, that,” Viktor scoffed. “Please, I have been training for many years. I hear your daughter is herself an excellent flyer, I only wish the Quidditch tournament was on this year!” he added. “And today, she has proven herself an excellent witch as well,” Viktor said, smiling at her.

“Indeed!” Fleur exclaimed. “You did very well, Ariadne, well done!” Suddenly, Fleur frowned, looking about at them. “Where… where is Ronald?”

“Oh, he wasn’t feeling very well, Miss Delacour,” Sirius immediately said. “Had to head off, lest he vomit on someone.” Fleur frowned slightly, before nodding and starting to turn.

“Ah well, hopefully he feels better soon. He shall be glad to hear of your victory, Ariadne!” Fleur lamented. “Shall we? I am starving,” she said, smiling. Nodding, as they had not in fact had dinner, the group set along the path back to the castle, glad of the clear summer weather as Hermione jogged around them ecstatically, seemingly too overwhelmed to talk but clearly by joy as she waved her arms about and expelled the odd happy noise. However, that clear weather had a bite, as even in the evening air, Ariadne found herself sweating profusely under the dragonhide robes.

“Ugh, I am  _ boiling! _ ” Ariadne exclaimed, undoing the buttons of the coat and shrugging off its sleeves awkwardly as she held her prize money. Released from the thick hide, she sighed in the cool air, clad in the boots and gloves but instead only wearing the t-shirt and baggy shorts she’d worn underneath as she threw the coat over her arm, holding her wand by her side after taking it from the coat - she didn’t have any pockets.

“What  _ is _ that?” Valerie asked, gently taking it from her. “It’s like leather but…”

“That’s dragonhide,” Ginny replied smugly as her father and twin brothers caught up. “Remember how she killed a dragon?”

“Is… is this its skin?!” Dennis exclaimed, pointing to it. “Good god, that’s… that’s damn cool, Ariadne.”

“Ginny!” Arthur called, as Ariadne smiled reflexively at her father. “Could have waited for us! Well done, Ariadne, well done!” he laughed, holding his arms up.

“Sorry Dad,” Ginny said, turning to face him. “Make a profit?” she asked Fred and George, the latter of whom seemed to be carrying their usual betting boxes. Fred grimaced.

“Lotta people bet on Ariadne winning,” George replied, leafing through some sheets of parchment. “I think we might have made a  _ loss _ Fred,” he told him.

“A loss?!” Fred exclaimed. “That’s supposed to be impossible. Dammit. We may or may not have planned on people betting on someone other than you, Ariadne, lost quite a bit of coin there.”

“Sorry,” Ariadne grumbled embarrassedly. 

“Serves you right, taking bets is no way to save money,” Arthur replied chidingly. “Too unpredictable, and quite frankly can rely on gambling addictions, the Muggles are always going on about that.” Fred shook his head, as Ariadne frowned.

“Saving?” she asked.

“For the joke shop idea,” George explained. “Just haven’t got the budget to get it off the ground is all,” he lamented. Ariadne tilted her head, frowning, before smiling at him.

“Tell you what,” Ariadne started, stepping over. “There you go,” she told them, hoisting the gigantic bag of coins into Fred’s arms, prompting the entire group to stare at her as if she’d just gone mad.

“Wh- No, Ariadne, we can’t take this,” Fred spluttered, trying to push it back into her hands. “This… this is yours!” he exclaimed. Ariadne shook her head, and stepped back, making Fred take the weight of the bag.

“Nah. I’m investing in your business,” Ariadne announced cheerfully, smiling at them. “I never wanted that anyway, take it. Make people laugh with it.”

“ _ That’s a thousand galleons, Ariadne! _ ” George exclaimed incredulously, pointing at the bag that Fred cradled in what was almost fear. “What do you mean you never wanted that anyway?!” he cried, as Arthur stared at Ariadne in shock.

“I didn’t enter the Tournament!” Ariadne replied. “Consider me a stakeholder, if it makes you feel better about it,” she added.

“You- you’re sure?!” Fred asked her, eyes wide. “This is a  _ lot _ of money, Ariadne.” Ariadne shrugged.

“I don’t want it, besides, you guys can make better use of it,” she told him. “I’m sure,” she assured them, smiling warmly as Fred and George looked at each other.

“I… Merlin, Ariadne,” George murmured. “Thank you so much!” he almost yelled, letting the box hang from its strap as he excitedly slapped Ariadne’s shoulders.

“We… we should go put this away so it doesn’t get stolen, um… we’ll keep you updated,  _ stakeholder _ Granger,” Fred mused hurriedly, starting down the path quicker and patting George on the shoulder. “See ya!” he called, as they jogged off, the bag of coins jangling loudly with every step.

“You could have stopped her,” Arthur told Ariadne’s parents pointedly.

“ _ Actually _ , that wasn’t a bad thing to do financially speaking,” Dennis replied. “If your sons’ business goes well, she’ll get a cut of the profits if she’s a stakeholder. Benefits everyone.” Ariadne blinked, frowning at herself.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Ariadne mused, making Ginny exhale in perplexment, gaping at her.

“‘Adne, you just gave them  _ a thousand galleons _ like it was nothing!” she exclaimed, nearly stumbling as she didn’t pay attention to where she was going. “That’s Dad’s wage for like, five years!” Arthur nodded, raising his eyebrows.

“I’d give  _ you _ a thousand galleons if you wanted, if Mum and Dad would let me. Wouldn’t even make much of a dent in my vault,” Ariadne told her, making Ginny reel back in confusion.

“ _ Just how much money is  _ **_in_ ** _ your bloody vault?! _ ” Ginny half-yelled, her bewildered expression and tone only growing.

“Just under three hundred and twenty thousand galleons last I checked,” Ariadne replied nonchalantly, as Ginny skidded to a halt, gaping at her. “Like I said, wouldn’t make much of a dent.” Confused, Ariadne noticed how Arthur, Ginny, Cedric, Viktor and Fleur were staring at her like she’d just declared the world flat with complete confidence. It was only her parents, Hermione and Sirius who seemed unsurprised. “I inherited a lot of money from my birth parents is all.”

“You, marry her,” Fleur exclaimed jovially, patting Ginny’s shoulder, prompting her to snort awkwardly and curl in on herself a little as Arthur raised an eyebrow sternly.

“So you two  _ are _ ..?” Arthur asked Ginny. “Not that I see anything wrong with it, mind.” Ginny nodded. “How long’s that been a thing that’s happening?”

“Since the Yule Ball,” Ginny replied hesitantly. “Since Christmas.” Arthur nodded.

“Thought that might have been it. Well, jokes aside, no marriages until you’re old enough, you two,” he told them warmly. “And Ginny, you can talk to your mother and I about anything you might need to, I know it’s awkward, but if you need to talk about things, we’re always an open ear to you, dear.” Ginny nodded solemnly. “As for you,” Arthur said sternly, turning to Ariadne. “I know you’re smart, so I trust you not to be a reckless idiot. Don’t do anything to make Molly murder you, because if you do, she won’t leave a body to find.”

“Pfff- Don’t worry, Mister Weasley,” Ariadne stammered, going red.

“I can assure you, Arthur, she’s nothing but sweet to little Ginny,” Sirius told Arthur. “I helped pay for her Christmas present.”

“Christmas present?” Arthur asked quizzically. “Something I’m not aware of, Ginevra?”

“Ariadne got me a broomstick!” Ginny exclaimed as they neared the top of the hill and the standing stones by the rickety bridge. “She got me a  _ freaking broomstick! _ ”

“You did  _ what _ ?!” Arthur exclaimed, his mouth hanging open at Ariadne. “What sort?” he asked Ginny eagerly.

“A Cleansweep Eight!” Ginny replied. “It’s so much fun, I’m gonna try out for the Quidditch team next year,” she bobbed excitedly.

“Good lord,” Arthur mused. “I agree with her, marry that girl,” he chuckled, pointing to Fleur with a laugh. “You’ll have to show us your moves, better get practicing over the holidays. How is she on a broom Ariadne?”

“Better than me!” Ariadne replied, smiling at Ginny. “I can sense the connection, hers is really strong. The only reason I can beat her is because I’ve got a Firebolt.” Sirius grinned at that.

“‘Adne, you don’t need to be so humble, you just won the Triwizard Tournament for Merlin’s sake,” Ginny chided her, slapping her arm playfully. “ _ But _ , you’ll be practicing over the holidays too. Gotta keep those Seeker muscles in tune.”

“Perhaps I should come along!” Viktor called, smiling, as Ginny gasped. “I might be able to teach the White Eyed Wonder some new tricks.” 

“Don’t you teach her that… what was it called, that thing you nearly bloody well killed Aidan Lynch with,” Valerie said, sternly. “I am  _ not _ waking up to a letter from here saying my daughter broke her neck playing that godforsaken game.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Granger, I will not teach her the Wronski Feint,” Krum assured her. “It’s barely a legal move, I believe they will ban it-”

“ _ INCARCEROUS! _ ” a voice bellowed from the rocks. Ariadne didn’t even have time to react before she was pinned on the ground by a flash of angrily glowing red chains that wrapped around her arms, legs and neck. Everyone around her save her parents had their wands out in a flash as a figure leapt out from behind one of the standing rocks, their core green and red, and flickering black and white magic bleeding through their left sleeve as whoever it was grabbed her by the arm and plunged their left hand into their pocket.

“ _ ARIADNE!” _ Ginny’s shriek was the last thing Ariadne heard before herself and the red-green cored individual were surrounded by turquoise magic and her body was squeezed through a space the size of a pinhead with a nauseating lurch.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didja think I was gonna just let her off the ol’ hook? My friends, I am evil.  
> Me: gonna pull some Shit at the end.   
> Also me: oh yeah thought I’d mention Hermione having braces in there just ‘cos it seems logical she would.


	145. The Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne finds herself trapped in a graveyard, as witness and accessory to the return of the greatest threat to her world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And THIS chapter was delayed by me watching The Expanse for a bit. And Unraveled clips. And a shower. And a social group. I don’t know how I write this quickly.  
> TW: Misgendering, deadnaming, transphobia

Ariadne slammed onto rough, dry dirt and dead grass with a CRACK before quickly rolling to a halt, struggling desperately against the chains that had bound her only seconds before, trying to roll over as her captor stood over her.

At least her wand was out, even if she couldn’t aim with the jangling metal squeezing her arms, but she could barely  _ breathe _ . She just needed one good spell, it was all she had the air for.

“ _ Bombarda Radia! _ ” Ariadne choked, exhaling what little breath she had in the instant before a juddering explosion of red energy shot out from her wand, wafting over her harmlessly as it shattered the chains with a BOOM, blowing dirt and grass into the air as rock split somewhere nearby. Hurriedly scrambling to get to her feet, Ariadne’s heart dropped as the wave - instead of blowing the individual back as she had hoped the spell would - was dissipated by a green wave of his own. Before she could even regain her breath as she brought her wand to bear, coughing and spluttering, her wand was jettisoned from her hand by a silvery beam, rattling onto the dirt a few metres away.

“Oh tsk-tsk-tsk, we can’t be having that,” a startlingly familiar voice taunted, as the red and green individual lashed his wand out at her again, a purple wave locking her arms and legs straight back into where she’d started as she fell, paralyzed on the ground, somehow still trembling in fear as whoever it was stood over her. Where had she heard that voice before? “That’s better, isn’t it? Do behave,” he said reproachfully, shaking his head at her as she had little choice but to survey her surroundings in hope of some way to escape once she was released. She’d only just taken note of a gigantic statue of a winged grim reaper looming over her before the purple glimmer locking her limbs in place was released, only to be replaced by an angry yellow arm that splayed out over her, dragging her into the air as she flailed pointlessly, trying to clutch at the arm that held her by the neck only for her grasping fingers to meet nothingness.

“LET GO OF ME!” Ariadne yelled, true terror filling her as she realized this could not possibly be part of the Task, and as she took note of the black and white magic flickering upon the man’s blue-illuminated left arm, bleeding through the fabric of his sleeve. A Dark Mark. “ _ LET ME GO! _ ” she screamed, as a purple beam shot out onto the statue with a flick of the man’s wand, causing the great winged statue to extend its skeletal fingers and pin her to its chest with the handle of its massive stone scythe, her feet finding rest upon what she realized with a thrill of horror was a grave as she struggled against the now animated reaper to push its scythe off and leap to her wand, which glowed orange on the ground, only metres from her. Metres that may as well have been miles.

“Oh, come now Mister Potter!” the man exclaimed. “Enjoy the moment! Now, you just stay  _ right _ there, all is set for the main event!” he told her, waving his arms to slash a red beam underneath what she realized was a cauldron, the crackling sound of the fire he’d apparently just set underneath it filling the graveyard. Smiling as Ariadne struggled and kicked at the statue, hoping she could wrestle herself free of its grasp, the man swooped away and into the confines of a low crypt opposite the cauldron from her.

_ Analyze the situation, analyze the situation _ .

She had to get out of there. Whatever the  _ main event _ was, she didn’t want to be there to find out, but there was one small problem. Where  _ was _ there? About her were no signs of where she’d been taken, aside from lopsided graves and tombs. Regardless, she had to escape the statue and get to her wand. Ariadne grunted angrily as she tried to twist her arm and squeeze her shoulders out from it, only for the statue to readjust the scythe and pin her arms even more tightly, forcing her elbow into its torso painfully. It would have been all too easy to push her arms up, to at least have them free, but it would only make it harder for her to escape. Unless she could  _ climb _ out of its grasp? Gritting her teeth, she forced her right arm up and over the stone handle, pulling her left up so her elbows rested on its surface. Oh how she wished she had Ron’s lycanthropic strength, as she got her hands onto the rod and started to push down, hoping to pull her own body up and out of its grasp before the reaper slammed it against her stomach suddenly, pressing her against itself again. It was just as she was crying out in pain from that impact, when the man who’d brought her there reappeared in the hallway of the crypt, and this time not alone.

For in his arms, as pain erupted from Ariadne’s scar, was the black and white flickering form of Lord Voldemort, his body wretched and tiny as he was carried, swaddled in a blanket as if a baby, toward her.

“GAA!” Ariadne screamed, clutching her free arms to her head as her sense of the dark magic stabbed into her right temple from the bundle he held, now hanging dramatically over the cauldron and the purple-glowing concoction within. With a tumbling wail, Voldemort fell into the cauldron as the man let him fall from the blanket with a turgid splash, a horrible bubbling echoing across the graveyard as the purple gave way to dazzlingly bright black and white magic, its tendrils scraping out into the air above the cauldron.

“Oh, you cracked it for me already, such a helpful boy,” the man told her, smiling evilly as he jabbed a warbling yellow beam into the grave beside her, indeed cracked from her initial retaliatory explosion, carrying a quickly illuminated knobbly rod of something into the air. “Bone… of the father, unwillingly given,” he said, pulling the bone dramatically over to the cauldron where the tentacles of dark magic grabbed it eagerly, cancelling out his spell as it fell, glowing purple, into the horribly boiling mixture. Whatever this was, it was not going to bode well, as a terrifying thought filled Ariadne.

He was bringing Voldemort back. Properly. No longer would the Dark Lord be merely a shade, latching onto Hogwarts Professors and falling to dust at her touch. In seconds, he was going to be back, in the flesh, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And he was going to kill her.

“Flesh of the servant…” the man recited, as Ariadne desperately threw her arm toward her wand, screwing her eyes closed as she concentrated. Wandless magic was beyond most anyone, but she had to try. Something simple, something that would get her what she needed to stop the ritual and escape.

“ _ Wingardium leviosa! _ ” she hissed through the pain pulsing through her mind, focusing her mind through her arm as best she could, imagining it was her wand. “ _ Wingardium leviosa! _ ” she exclaimed, as the man returned his wand to his pocket and pulled out a knife and her magic pulsed ever so slightly.  _ Come on… _ “ _ Wingardium leviosa! _ ”

“Willingly sacrificed!” the servant cried, slashing the knife down over his other raised arm, hacking through his own wrist in one swift motion as his right hand plummeted into the mixture, claimed by the magical tendrils and hungrily absorbed with a rumbling boil. He didn’t even scream at the pain he must have been in, instead turning to her and her desperate attempts to summon her wand to her. “And  _ blood _ of the enemy!” he snarled, stepping over to her menacingly as she clutched her fingers out at her wand, golden on the floor as he haphazardly kicked it a few feet further away before he was only inches from her. “Forcibly taken!”

“No! No!” Ariadne cried, as the knife was drawn ever closer to her, before she screamed out in pain as it pierced into her outstretched left arm, slashing down it with an eruption of agony before it was drawn away just as suddenly. Grinning, the man stepped back to the cauldron, holding the knife up as she clutched her right hand over her forearm, now slick with her own blood. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t have caught a major artery, and she wouldn’t bleed out then and there, but she could not sense the wound in enough detail to know.

“The Dark Lord… shall rise… again!” the man yelled, tapping the knife over the cauldron as its tendrils once again hungrily took what he had offered it, swallowing the droplets of her blood. With a roar of flame, Ariadne’s sense was dominated by a gigantic cloud of flickering black and white, the pain in her scar threatening to overcome the pain in her bloodied arm as a horrific, all-consuming scream filled the air, mingling with her own screams of agony as the great cloud of dark magic splayed out over the graveyard, roiling and shifting for only a few seconds before it began to thin.

The ritual had been completed, as its tendrils reeled back and fell into a somewhat humanoid form, draping down over the shoulders of a purple-glowing head and falling to the ground like a robe, becoming mundane and magic-less over Voldemort.

Lord Voldemort was back.

The Dark Lord stood, hunched over ever so slightly as his breath hissed, his hands caressing over his hairless head before he straightened, the purple glow of his form vanishing to reveal his magical core of golden, red and green sections, all almost lashed together, falling apart, by flickering dark magic. Six strands of that dark magic flailed about his core, drifting almost like seaweed as he stepped forward toward the man who’d resurrected him, who knelt, head down.

“My wand, alchemist,” Lord Voldemort whispered softly, stretching an arm down toward the man, who looked up at him in awe. Slowly, the alchemist produced from his robe a long, golden wand, which his master took gladly with a relieved sigh. “Stand.” Bowing his head, the man stood, smiling as he obeyed. “Hold out your arm,” Voldemort said. Dramatically, he raised his left and as yet unmutilated arm, the flickering Dark Mark beneath his robe yet more powerful than it had been before. Voldemort leaned slightly forward, pulled the alchemist’s sleeve up, and pressed his golden wand to the Mark.

Immediately, as the Mark flared, a great blue beam shot into the sky with the crash of thunder, an echoing roar and a gigantic blue skull erupted into being, backed only by the dark void of the sky itself, the snake slithering from its mouth with a turquoise point at its maw. As Ariadne struggled to get free of the reaper statue, her arms numb in silent fear, half a dozen points of magical light, in all colours of the rainbow shot forth from its mouth, trailing thousands of filaments behind them as they separated, falling from the sky like meteors, clearly differentiating into specific individuals as they came to a cloudy halt on the graveyard lawn before her. Of the at least seven figures that stood, robed just as they had been at the World Cup, she recognized only one. Lucius Malfoy, standing to her immediate right. The Death Eaters had been summoned.

“Welcome, my friends,” Lord Voldemort declared, striding into the centre of the group. “Thirteen years it’s been, and yet… here you stand before me, as though it were only yesterday,” he spat. “I confess myself… disappointed,” he hissed. “Not one of you tried to find me. Crabbe!” he yelled, leaping with surprising strength for a man just restored to bodily form toward one of the figures, slashing his arm out with a red glare as Crabbe’s mask vaporized and he fell to the ground. Evidently Vincent Crabbe’s father. “Gah, Macnair!” he snarled, doing the same to another man. “Goyle!” Again, the father of Gregory Goyle fell to the ground. “Not even you,” Voldemort said, prowling toward Malfoy. “Lucius.” With a red flash, Lucius Malfoy fell to his knees.

“My Lord, had I detected any sign, a  _ whisper _ of your whereabouts-” Lucius protested quietly.

“There were signs, my slippery friend, and more than whispers,” Voldemort snapped. 

“I assure you my Lord, I have never renounced the old ways,” Lucius told him, pulling his hood off and standing hesitantly. “The face I have been obliged to present each day since your... absence?  _ That _ is my true mask,” he declared in a disgusted tone.

“Not much of a mask!” Ariadne hissed angrily, still struggling against the statue to no avail, as the alchemist stepped forward.

“I returned!” he called, as Voldemort span to face him.

“Yes, you did…” Voldemort murmured. “You see, my friends, a shining exemplar of loyalty,” he called, pointing to the man as he approached the alchemist. “Upon that, you also provided an efficient solution to an  _ overengineered problem _ ,” he hissed. “For that… a gift, from your Lord,” he said graciously, waving his golden wand over the alchemist’s severed hand with a green glow, forming a new hand from light and strands of purple filaments, which attached itself to the stump that the man’s wrist had become.

“Thank you, master!” the alchemist murmured in awe. “You are too generous, my Lord,” he said, marvelling at the magical hand that glowed green on his arm. The pain in Ariadne’s scar had thankfully diminished once her sense was no longer dominated by the ritual, but it still throbbed painfully as Voldemort turned to face her, her heart beating like a chaotic drum.

“Oh, Harry!” Voldemort called jovially, stepping over, his feet bare as he almost wafted toward her. Ariadne took a hissing breath, trying to shrink away from him as the chain of her glasses chattered against the stone. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten you were here,” he said, as Ariadne’s glasses illuminated his face properly, flat and noseless and without even a hint of hair over his skull-like head. “Standing on the bones of my father. I’d introduce you, but word has it you’re almost as  _ famous _ as me these days,” Voldemort said, his voice flat but no quieter than his raging indictments of those who did not seek him out.

“N-non-no-not-not-nnt-t-tn-not-not by-not by-not by choice,” Ariadne stammered defiantly, her breath entirely too ragged to allow for anything more.

“Indeed…” Voldemort muttered, turning to face his Death Eaters. “The Boy Who Lived,” he declared grimly. “How lies have fed your legend, Harry! Shall I reveal what really happened that night thirteen years ago? Shall I divulge how I  _ truly lost _ my powers?” he said menacingly, sweeping back to his position in the centre of the Death Eater conglomeration. “Yes, shall I? It was love. You see, when dear sweet Lily Potter gave her life for her only son, she provided the ultimate protection. I could not touch him,” Voldemort explained, sweeping about and gesturing dramatically, seeming to revel in his newfound mobility. “It was.. Old magic. Something I should have foreseen. But no matter, no matter. Things have  _ changed _ ,” he told them, swooping forward as Ariadne flinched back, her head cracking against the stone as Voldemort raised his hand, his face no more than a foot from her own, his fingers outstretched as his arm got closer and closer to her face. Had he found some way of breaking the wards?! “I can touch you…  _ now _ !” Voldemort exclaimed, as his index finger stabbed down at her scar.

Agony crashed over her mind as an unbidden scream tore from her lips, echoing over the graveyard as a flock of birds fled from the sound. If she had thought it painful when Voldemort had first been brought before her, that had been nothing. It was more like the time the wraith he had been had flown through her, whiting out her magic sense and sending her careening, unconscious to the dungeon floor.

And so too like that day so long ago, purple and red light hurled itself from her core at his hand, attacking it mercilessly as Voldemort too cried out in agony, sparking and jabbing at the Dark Lord before he released his grip, staring at his hand as he panted in pain.

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” Voldemort yelled, as Ariadne’s mouth hung open, agape in sudden relief. He  _ hadn’t _ found a way to break the familial wards. A laugh pushed its way out of Ariadne’s mouth as she realized why, and as Voldemort span, clutching at his right hand as he stared hatefully at the alchemist. “ _ CRUCIO! _ ” he yelled, jabbing his wand out at the man who’d only minutes ago resurrected him, black and white magic stabbing out at the alchemist as he fell to the floor, screaming. “ _ You assured me that his blood would render his protection powerless against me! _ ” Voldemort hissed furiously, looming over the man as he continued to drive his wand aggressively at the writhing, screaming man. Strangled syllables escaped his throat, before Voldemort snapped his wand away. “ _ What _ was that?!”

“It should have worked!” the alchemist coughed desperately, clutching at Voldemort with his magical hand. “My Lord, if I had known-” Ariadne knew she should not have been laughing. It was not a laughing matter, Voldemort was torturing his own servant for failing him in a way he could not have known he would. But it  _ was _ funny that Voldemort had made the exact same mistake Albus Dumbledore had, and as such, a terrified, breathy cackle escaped her lips, gallows laughter in truth. She truly expected to be dead within five minutes.

“What’s so  _ funny _ , Harry Potter?” Voldemort spat, turning to her, his face like a visage of death as Ariadne could not help but laugh in his face.

“ _ Of course _ you thought it was blood!” Ariadne spluttered through her laughter and the tense grip of the statue that still held her. “It has nothing to do with my blood you idiot!” she yelled. “ _ Love _ .  _ Familial  _ love. Thanks to two lovely  _ Muggle _ dentists,” she told him, smiling in terrified smugness. Even if she was killed in the next several seconds, she’d won that over him.

“Bah! Pick up your wand, Potter!” Voldemort spat, flicking his wand to release the purple glow that cascaded over the reaper statue, as Ariadne found herself suddenly falling to the dry, grassy ground. On that, at least, she would do as he said, as she flung herself at her wand, panting for breath as her lungs were released from the pressure of the scythe.

“ _ BOMBARDA! _ ” Ariadne shouted, sending a bead of red energy into a grave only feet from Voldemort as the Death Eaters fled to the side, pulling out their own wands before Voldemort shot them an angry glare as if to tell them off. In a flash, a purple wave had locked her arms and legs in place as she stood, facing him, but unable to leave that position.

“How disappointed Dumbledore must be to know you’ve lost your manners and not just your  _ dignity _ , Harry Potter,” Voldemort spat, before dancing back from her playfully. “You’ve been taught how to duel, I presume, yes? First, we bow to each other,” he said, dipping his head floridly with a flourish of his wand. “Come on now, Harry, you must want to correct that impropriety, the niceties must be observed. I said  _ bow _ !” he called, before thrusting his wand out and forcing Ariadne’s spine to bend forward even as he released the partial petrification, a red wave pulsing over her before Voldemort leapt forward. “That’s better! And  _ now! _ ” he growled, his free hand flashing out at her and bowling her backward with a red and orange slash of magic. “ _ Crucio! _ ” he cried, almost tauntingly as a jarring black and white beam shot out at her, stabbing into her magical core.

“ _ Protego _ !” Ariadne cried ineffectually, the green shield collapsing immediately under the pressure of Voldemort’s Cruciatus curse. Agony stabbed into every nerve in her body, and she fell to the ground, screaming and shaking. It was as if every inch of her skin, every inch of her existence both inside and out was roaring in pain, the sensation of the ground on her arms and legs lost amongst the white-hot pain that ran through every iota of her existence. Every muscle in her body was seized, as she realized she could not even  _ try _ to breathe, as no part of her body responded to her command, gurgling screams all she could produce as her teeth clenched.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Her entire body ached as she gasped for air, as Voldemort released the spell. Ariadne struggled to her arms and knees, every instinct she held screaming one thing.

_ Escape _ .

“Attaboy, Harry!” Voldemort called, stepping over toward her. “Your parents would be proud! Especially your  _ filthy _ Muggle mother!”

“ _ SPICULUM! _ ” Ariadne cried, throwing her wand up before Voldemort effortlessly deflected the resultant arrow directly into a grave with a TWANNG. With a wave of his hand, he sent her spinning across the grass, rolling to a stop a ways away from a large tomb.

_ Escape! _

Ariadne struggled to get to her feet, but her arms collapsed under her own weight as she tried to drag herself away from Voldemort, who was still looming over her, leaning down to face her as a fleck of magic spun her to face him.

“I’m going to kill you, Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord said simply. “I’m going to destroy you. After tonight, no-one will ever again question my powers.” Ariadne frowned incredulously at him, too terrified and breathless to communicate her confusion. Had he not been paying attention, all those years? Nobody questioned his power to begin with. “After tonight, if they speak of you, they’ll speak only of how you… begged for death. And I, being a merciful Lord… obliged,” he murmured menacingly, with a smile on his lips. “Now get up!” he barked, thrusting his right hand out toward her face and dragging her up with a rope of orange magic. As soon as she was on her own feet again, Voldemort swooped away and Ariadne leapt backward, diving behind the nearest tomb as soon as he was not looking, heart hammering in her chest as she fled for cover.

“ _ DON’T YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME, HARRY POTTER, I WANT YOU TO LOOK AT ME WHEN I KILL YOU!”  _ Voldemort bellowed, a splintering BANG smashing off the edge of the raised grave as she quivered, almost hyperventilating as bits of stone were cast across her legs. “ _ I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES!! _ ”

“You’re about eleven years too late for that,” Ariadne mumbled breathily, as she sat, paralyzed by fear behind a solid slab of stone.  _ Analyze the situation, Ariadne,  _ **_analyze the situation_ ** , she urged herself, taking a deep breath.

She needed to escape. She needed to tell Dumbledore what had happened. But  _ how _ ?! Step one: leave the graveyard. Step two, get back to Hogwarts.

_ The alchemist still has a Portkey! _ Ariadne realized with a small gasp, shuffling away from the edge of the tomb. She’d recognized its magic immediately upon being taken, and Portkeys were not one-way devices. If she could get it, she could go straight back to Hogwarts and back under the safety net of its anti-apparation wards. Voldemort could not follow her.

But how to get it?

“ _ Accio _ Portkey,” Ariadne muttered, the yellow arm of the spell splitting out of her wand and shooting off behind the grave, before it snapped ineffectively. Either it had met resistance, or the Portkey was warded. She had to get to the alchemist first. He’d reached into one of his left pockets, no doubt that was where it was. Where was the alchemist? Last she’d sensed, he’d split off from Voldemort and stood with the main group of Death Eaters. She had to get past Voldemort  _ and _ the Death Eaters.

Easier said than done, but it was the only plan she had.

Ariadne took a deep breath and jumped up to her feet, crouching behind the grave as she slowly crept around the other side of the graves. If she could sneak around and get behind them, it would go a long way to her survival. She was glad there were no dry leaves littering the ground, or twigs to snap under her glowing dragonhide boots, else she would truly have been, to use the technical term,  _ fucked _ .

She found herself before the first gap between the graves.  _ Come on, Ariadne. Deep breath _ .

“ _ Protego _ ,” Ariadne whispered, jumping between the two slabs with far too much of a scuffling noise as she realized the jig was up. Bursts of magic filled the air and thudded against the shield she was far too glad she’d cast before even jumping, as it wavered under the pressure and collapsed.

“Do nothing! He is mine to finish!” Voldemort yelled as she heard his shoeless footsteps swish through the dried dirt and grass as she leapt to her feet and broke into a sprint, making a beeline directly toward the alchemist as the wind rushed through her ears, accompanying the drumming cacophony of her own heartbeat as all other sound fell silent, save for the explosions of magic around her as she ran.

“ _ EXPELLIARMUS! _ ” she yelled, flicking the alchemist’s wand from his hand with a stabbing silver beam before lunging at him, the Death Eaters parting to Voldemort’s command as Ariadne, powered by adrenaline and terror, grabbed him and swung the spluttering man around so that he was between her and Voldemort.  _ Step two: get the Portkey _ . “STAYSTILLUNLESSYOUWANTMETOFINDOUTWHATBOMBARDADOESTOAHUMAN!” she yelled, slurring every word together with her wand held to the man’s temple aggressively as she thrust her left hand into the man’s pockets, searching. Tidbits and vials came spewing out as she inverted one pocket, and as Voldemort swooped out of the graves to follow her, smiling wryly.

“ _ Avada Kedavra! _ ” Voldemort exclaimed playfully, and with a flash of black and white magic and a stabbing pain in her forehead, the spell wrapped around the alchemist’s core and crushed it, his form going rigid before suddenly falling limp against her as she cried out at the sudden weight and fell to the ground underneath the body.

“GAH, FUCK!” Ariadne yelled, wrestling the body off of herself as she plunged her hand into the final remaining pocket, and grabbing the bumpy sphere within. Pulling it out and stumbling back, a thrill of adrenaline marked the turquoise magic that glimmered out at her.

Why wasn’t she gone? 

Ariadne tossed the ball about in her hand briefly, noticing the switch jutting off it just as Voldemort raised his wand again.

_ Click _

“ _ AVADA- _ ” Ariadne vanished with a lurch of turquoise magic, squeezing into a tiny wormhole just as the roar of Voldemort’s curse began to fill her ears, her sense nothing but Portkey as she was carried away from the graveyard with a  _ BOOM _ in her ear.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another change! The wards aren’t based on blood here, so take that Voldy. AND no Priori Incantatem. Hmm...  
> Just a reminder: Ariadne is wearing a t shirt, shorts, and green leather boots and gloves in this scene. What an aesthetic.


	146. He's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne returns to Hogwarts, shaken to say the least, but alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand this one was delayed by more Expanse and also by me planning more chapters.  
> MASSIVE TW:  
> AFTER THIS POINT I WILL BE ATTEMPTING TO WRITE A SEMI-REALISTIC DEPICTION OF PTSD, MANIFESTING IN DEPRESSION AND A DEGREE OF PARANOIA.  
> IF THAT IS SOMETHING YOU WILL STRUGGLE TO READ, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY FIC IS NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR MENTAL HEALTH.  
> TW: Flashbacks, trauma

The world exploded back into the familiar blue-coated hillside as Ariadne burst onto the gravelly hillside with a BANG. She barely had time to comprehend her arrival before her knees had been skinned on the gravel and she’d toppled to the ground with a crumbling crunch. Her nose and glasses scraped across the ground as bits of errant grass and stone threatened to stab through the empty lenses of the glowing frames, as a voice sounded out across the lawn

“ARIADNE!” Ginny yelled, immediately leaping to her as Ariadne struggled to get up, the pain in her right arm only intensified by her collapse across the gravel. “Ariadne oh my god!” she cried, wrapping Ariadne in her arms as Professor Dumbledore span and Hermione ran over. “Oh my god… you’re hurt,” Ginny murmured, as Ariadne shook in her arms, holding on for dear life as Hermione froze over her.

“Ariadne!” Dumbledore called urgently, only a few steps behind Hermione and a few before her parents, who were accompanied by Professors McGonagall and Moody. “Ariadne!”

“He… he-hehehe-he-he… He’s back…” Ariadne breathed, shuddering uncontrollably as she half-knelt within Ginny’s embrace. “He.. he’s back…”

“Who’s back?!” Dennis exclaimed, grinding to a halt and still carrying the green-glowing dragonhide robe. “What the fuck happened, are you all right?!”

“V-vvv-Voldemort,” Ariadne whimpered. “He’s back!  _ He’s back! _ ” she squeaked, trying to bring her arms up as her heartrate had rocketed into the stratosphere, every inch of her limbs was numb as she panted for breath. Professor Dumbledore froze for but a moment even as he knelt down beside her, his robes draping through the stones that dug into Ariadne’s knees. “I cou-couldn’t-I couldn’t-”

“It’s all right, Ariadne, it’s all right,” Dumbledore said hurriedly, holding her shoulders from the side. “You’re back, you’re back safe.”

“I’d hardly call her safe, she just got kidnapped!” Valerie yelled furiously, pulling Dumbledore back up again. “On  _ your _ fucking watch! This place was supposed to be safe! I’m a hair’s breadth from pulling her out and sending her to that French one, Beauxbatons! Fucking  _ DRAGONS _ ?! GIANT SNAKES? THE TRIWIZARD THING? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKING SCHOOL?!” she bellowed as Dennis knelt down opposite Dumbledore, shaking a little himself as he clutched his daughter to his chest, patting the back of Ariadne’s head as tears began to flow from her eyes.

“I second that!” Sirius yelled, stepping over as well. “Albus if you don’t do a damn better job of keeping her safe-”

“This isn’t the time, Sirius!” Dumbledore growled, spinning to him as Sirius and Valerie towered on either side of him. “If the Dark Lord has returned, we must act quickly!”

“NO, I think it is!” Sirius bellowed. “At every turn, all you’ve done is put her in danger! The Dursleys, Quirrell, a Basilisk and now all of this?! _ EVERYTHING _ that has happened to her is YOUR FAULT!” Ariadne’s head was spinning as she started to get dizzy, and as her father added his own voice to the horrible cacophony of shouting that Hermione was shrinking away from, her magical core spasming in anxiety.

“Isn’t it supposed to be impossible to teleport out of here anyway?!” Dennis exclaimed. “What the  _ hell _ happened to that?!”

“Ariadne!” Dumbledore barked, crouching down and grabbing her left arm and the turquoise shell it held. “Is this a Portkey?” Ariadne nodded vigorously, as Ginny shot Dumbledore perhaps the most venomous glare Ariadne had ever sensed on her face. “Give it to me.” Taking the Portkey, Dumbledore stood purposefully. “Portkeys are capable of circumventing the wards, it must have been concealed on his person!” Dumbledore barked. “Regardless of our past failures, we must act quickly. Alastor, Sirius, with me.”

“Probably hid among the guests, waiting for her to let her guard down,” Professor Moody said darkly. “Sirius, come on!” Sirius growled frustratedly, his coat flailing out behind him as he span to follow Moody. “Put your issues aside, right now we’ve got Dark wizards to catch and not much time to catch them,” he ordered as Dumbledore pressed his white-glowing wand to his throat.

“All Aurors return to your posts, inform the Minister that Ariadne Granger has returned,” he said quietly, before re-pulsing the spell. “Professor Hagrid, once you are certain there are no more Aurors searching the forest, you are free to release Red, and he is to  _ remain hidden _ . This situation is complicated enough as it is.” The glow vanished. “Professor McGonagall, escort Ariadne to the hospital wing, she’s sustained injuries. Alastor, Sirius and I will investigate where she was taken.”

“Understood, Headmaster,” McGonagall replied with a nod and a stern expression before with a click and a flash of turquoise magic, Dumbledore, Moody and her godfather vanished from Ariadne’s sense entirely. “There there, Ariadne. Can you stand?” she asked anxiously, stepping over and flapping her parents away. Ariadne numbly nodded as Ginny helped her up and she clung both arms around her girlfriend, and Ginny wrapped an arm around her back to support her by the armpit. “Ooh, that’s a nasty looking cut. Come on dear, that’s all right,” McGonagall murmured, regarding the cut down Ariadne’s right arm with concern. In her panic, she’d almost forgotten about it, but as the adrenaline in her system gave way to panic, the pain was quickly returning, throbbing through her forearm as she shuddered uncontrollably.

_ Voldemort was back. _

“Are you okay, ‘Adne?” Ginny whispered worriedly into her ear. Ariadne could not speak, as her memory only flooded through her and the most sound she could produce was a tiny, warbling mumble comprised of torn syllables, before she gave up and patted Ginny’s shoulder twice. Frowning, Ginny looked to Hermione, who only shook her head forlornly. Ginny grumbled and drew Ariadne in closer as they hesitantly climbed the stairs to the long rickety bridge. “It’s okay, we’re here. We’re here, ‘Adne,” she murmured. “I um, I did try call Red, but er… Dumbledore told Hagrid to keep him in his house while the Aurors went looking for you,” she said, holding up the antler whistle on a cord about her neck. “And.. looking at that arm, probably the only good decision he’s made.” Ariadne had to agree, even if her mind was sluggish in processing even the position of her feet. Bringing Red into the mix when she’d returned injured would have only risked her own lycanthropic infection.

_ Voldemort was back. _

A choked sob escaped her mouth unbidden as she half stumbled on the stone steps of the castle, the alchemist’s knife still burning through her mind as Hermione joined Ginny in her attempts to help Ariadne up. The moment was over but it kept playing in her ears over and over. The statue’s scythe pressing on her stomach, the chains wrapping around her.  _ Blood of the enemy, blood of the enemy, blood of the enemy _ . The explosion of rock as Voldemort hurled a curse at the grave she’d dove behind.  _ I WANT TO SEE THE LIGHT LEAVE YOUR EYES! _

“Breathe, Ariadne, breathe,” Ginny urged her as she helped her up the stairs. “In, out, in, out,” she said, as Ariadne struggled to wrestle her ragged lungs into rhythm with Ginny’s voice and wrestle her own mind into concentrating on that same grounding voice. “In, and out, in, and out.” They were on the fourth floor by the time she’d pulled her own mind out of the fog.

“We’re here, Ariadne,” Hermione said quietly, patting her unwounded arm gently as they crossed the threshold of the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey’s core bobbing quickly over.

“Oh thank heavens you’re safe, Ariadne!” Pomfrey exclaimed, taking her shoulders from Ginny and guiding her over to a hospital bed. “Sit down, sit down, sit down,” she rambled, as Ariadne numbly fell onto the bed. A green wave shot out from Madam Pomfrey’s wand, and she flinched, gasping as it vanished again, her heart leaping into her throat and the memory of a Cruciatus curse slashing back into her mind.

“Ariadne?!” Ginny burst, as Ariadne threw her hands up fearfully and started spluttering and coughing after swallowing her own saliva in the gasp of air she’d taken, Ginny’s arms immediately taking her arm again. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

“I...I-I-I-I-I…” Ariadne breathed, still holding her hands in front of her head protectively.

“Oh… of course,” Madam Pomfrey sighed. “She can see the diagnostic, it scared her, I shouldn’t have… It’s okay, Ariadne, I just need to check for anything I can’t see, internal injuries, etcetera,” she assured her, leaning over and holding the end of her wand away from Ariadne. “Is that okay?” Squinting unbidden tears from her eyes, Ariadne nodded. “Okay. While I do that, Hermione, if you could go over there and fetch the disinfectant? We need to make sure that cut up her arm didn’t pick anything up wherever she was, else it’ll heal all wrong.” Hermione nodded, biting her lip and jogged off to where Madam Pomfrey was pointing. “Ginevra, you stay right here.” Madam Pomfrey raised her wand again and Ariadne inhaled before the green wave reappeared, flowing over her as she tightened her grip on Ginny’s hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, it’s good to finally meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“You’re Madam Pomfrey, yes? The one handling ‘Adne’s transition?” Dennis asked, as the pair of them watched anxiously.

“Correct. You’ll be glad to know,  _ that’s  _ all going well too,” she replied, ceasing her scan and holding up her wand pointedly. “Hormones all in the right ranges for a girl her age.  _ And _ , luckily nothing more than what we can see, just that cut to see to, and some minor scratches. Thank you very much, Hermione,” she said, taking the disinfectant from Hermione and stepping over to Ariadne’s right arm. “Okay, this will sting a bit,” she said quietly, patting a disinfectant-covered cloth across the cut.

“Ah!” Ariadne gasped, clutching down on her wand that still rested in her right hand. “Ow.”

“That’s okay, you’re doing well,” Madam Pomfrey told her, before everyone jumped at the slam of the doors bursting open and Ariadne recoiled into Ginny. Her instinctive fears were allayed, however, as striding in were the magical cores of Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody and Sirius Black.

“What did you find?!” Valerie immediately yelled, spinning to face the three.

“Damn nothing,” Sirius replied angrily. “Nothing we could track, nothing. Just the guy who kidnapped her, dead on the ground missing a hand and a Dark Mark in the sky,” he told them, swiftly striding toward Ariadne and engulfing her in his arms, catching Ginny as well. “Merlin I’m glad you’re safe.”

“That and evidence of a ritual,” Moody growled, frowning at Ariadne. Professor Dumbledore swooped over purposefully, placing a hand on Ginny’s shoulder as if to usher her away, but even as Ariadne clung to her arm, Ginny only glared at Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore made a face and leant down, letting Ginny remain.

“Ariadne, I need to know what happened in the graveyard,” he said urgently. “No details spared, we need to know his actions, and if possible, his plans.”

“I… I-I… he…” Ariadne spluttered, her mind falling back into the turquoise blend of the Portkey she’d been seized by. “He… he… he chained.. He chained me up… he…” she spluttered, her breath coming quick and heavy as her mind imploded in on itself, flashes of red chains crushing into her neck and Ginny’s scream as she was whisked away, her forehead scar burning into her skull as an explosion of dark magic filled the air at Voldemort’s return, the Cruciatus exploding over her and filling her with agony.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Dennis exclaimed, stepping over to them, his face incredulous. “She’s just been traumatized, leave her alone!” Ariadne sat there, stunned by both her own inability to even move and what was happening, as Dumbledore span to face her father.

“Mister Granger, I must impress upon you the  _ enormity _ of what your daughter has witnessed,” Dumbledore growled. “Regardless of your feelings, if the Dark Lord is back, we must move quickly and to do that, I have to know what your daughter saw.”

“She didn’t _see_ _anything_ thanks to the treatment of the people that _you_ left her with. Bleach in the eyes, three years old, no medical attention, you think on that,” Dennis snarled. “You will _not_ treat her like some sort of pawn in your little game, neither of them,” he said, his tone deadly as he pointed to Hermione as well. “Give her some bloody time.”

“Compromise,” Moody barked from the doorway amongst a raucous, snotty sniff from Ariadne. “Pomfrey, Calming Draught.”

“What?” Valerie spluttered. “What is that, what does that mean?”

“It’ll calm her down,” Professor Moody replied simply. “It’ll calm your daughter down and let her deal with the trauma later.” Madam Pomfrey nodded, and started toward a cabinet before Valerie grabbed her arm.

“Is it safe?” Valerie asked intently. Pomfrey nodded again.

“I administered one to Mister Weasley when he…” Pomfrey looked to Moody. “Well. When he needed one. Ariadne will be fine, she’s a tough girl.” Valerie screwed up her nose, nodded and stepped over to sit on the bed, as Moody spoke up again.

“I’m aware of Ronald’s condition, if that’s what you were dancing around,” he said. Dumbledore jumped, looking up.

“Sirius, once Ariadne has explained what happened, go to the forest and inform Red. It won’t do for Ronald to find out in the morning,” Dumbledore told Sirius, who looked up at him from where he was sitting right beside Valerie.

“Will do,” Sirius said shortly as Madam Pomfrey shuffled over with a small bottle, pushing Dumbledore away and leaning over beside Ariadne.

“Ariadne, dear. This bottle is a Calming Draught, they’d like for you to take it,” Madam Pomfrey said gently. “You can refuse at any time,” she pointed out, making Ariadne falter in her sluggish motion to take the bottle. Ariadne took the bottle in her left hand, still clutching her wand in her right, and reluctantly let go of Ginny to unstopper it. “Now, while you lot have your talk, I’m going to bandage up your arm and deal with the grazes, okay?” Ariadne nodded, her mouth already full of the bitter substance. Ariadne frowned, blinking as the potion took hold of her. It was like her mind was softly wrapped in a warm blanket, her emotions thrown into the rafters to be forgotten and left for later as a disturbingly serene calm fell over her, the tears in her eyes ceasing and the involuntary shuddering that hadn’t stopped since her return stopping. Or rather, what  _ should _ have been a disturbingly serene calm, if it were not the fact she weren’t quite capable of being disturbed.

Which in itself was disturbing.

She knew she should have been terrified. She knew she should have been bawling into Ginny’s shoulder, fearful for her life, but as she reached for the memory, it was almost… sanitized. No emotions filled her at its recollection, as if she were merely a spectator rather than an active participant. She felt off, incredibly off, as Madam Pomfrey began to see to her injuries and Dumbledore sat down beside her.

“Ariadne. Feeling better?” he asked sternly.

“Yes…” Ariadne muttered. “I… this is weird,” she added, frowning as her mind did not respond as she was used to. Potions that altered one’s mental state had some terrible implications, but at that moment, her concern was theoretical, not active.

“Good. Now. Start at the beginning. What happened?” Dumbledore asked.

“He… he grabbed me. He grabbed me, and then he used the Portkey in his pocket to take me to the graveyard. I still had my wand in my hand, so I…” Ariadne recited, before idly realizing she  _ still _ had her wand in her hand. Only seconds before, she’d clutched to it like a lifeline, it had been so imperative that she keep it. “So I tried to use  _ bombarda radia _ to break out and get him. I broke out, but he shielded himself and disarmed me.”  _ That must be why I was so intent on keeping it in my hand _ , Ariadne thought, perplexed at analyzing her own technically current, if suppressed, mental state. “Then he… then he put me on top of this… on top of the grim reaper statue’s plinth, Voldemort’s father’s grave, and made the statue hold me while he went to get Voldemort,” she continued, expressionless as she sat with Ginny’s arm about her shoulder and Pomfrey wrapping cloth bandage around her arm.

“Oh my god…” Valerie mumbled, a horrified expression on her face as she took the hand of her equally horrified father.

“I tried to… I tried to climb out, but it just kept me there and then he got out with Voldemort and dropped him in a cauldron,” Ariadne told them, rubbing her still aching scar with her left hand. “Then he did a… a ritual of some sort… he put a bone into the cauldron as well, one from Voldemort’s father’s grave, he said it had to be  _ bone of the father unwillingly given _ , then he cut his own hand off into the cauldron,  _ flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed…  _ and…” Ariadne continued, as Sirius took a hissing breath at what she described. “ _ Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken _ , and he, well,” she waved her left hand at the now bandaged forearm.

“And then what happened?” Dumbledore asked intently.

“Voldemort came back. The alchemist had a Dark Mark on his arm, he used that to-”

“ _ Alchemist _ ?!” Dumbledore exclaimed, recoiling slightly. “Ariadne, you’ve mentioned an alchemist in your dreams before, was it the same man?” Ariadne frowned, remembering.  _ That _ was why his voice had seemed familiar.

“Um… I think so?” Ariadne replied, as Valerie gaped at them.

“I’m sorry,  _ DREAMS? _ ” Valerie exclaimed. “Someone like to explain?”

“Ariadne mentioned she’d been having dreams, just before Alastor’s impersonator was found. She identified that the dreams were strange because she had vision in them, and three individuals. Voldemort, a servant, and an alchemist. One presumes that perhaps this  _ servant _ was your doppelganger, Alastor.” Thinking back…

“The voices did sound familiar, sir, both people,” Ariadne told him, to a concerned frown.

“Your dreams we will come to later. First, what happened, what did he use the Dark Mark for?” Dumbledore pressed urgently, as Pomfrey plastered her grazed legs.

“He… he summoned Death Eaters. There was Lucius Malfoy-” Ariadne explained, before Sirius jumped.

“I knew it!” Sirius growled.

“As well as Crabbe, Macnair, and Goyle. He didn’t name any of the others,” Ariadne added, before snorting in muted amusement. “According to Lucius, his charming normal racist self is a facade for an even more racist self.”

“That’s no surprise.”

“Then, Voldemort gave the alchemist a new magic hand, to replace the one he cut off, and then he came to me,” Ariadne continued. “He kept calling me my deadname. Apparently he had to use my blood because it would break the blood wards but-”

“But the wards aren’t-” Hermione whispered, astounded.

“But the wards aren’t based on my blood. He tried to touch my scar but it burned him anyway. He punished the alchemist for it and then released me, tried to duel me. He… he used the Cruciatus on me,” Ariadne told them.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Ginny gasped, pulling her into a hug as her parents exchanged confused looks.

“Torture curse,” Hermione explained, her face the blue-illuminated image of shock and horror as her parents’ eyes went wide.

“But I got away, behind the graves, and then ran for the alchemist. You see, he still had the Portkey, so I used him as a human shield while I tried to get it out of his pocket,” she explained. “Voldemort… Voldemort killed him, but I got the Portkey in time to escape, and then I ended up back here.”

“Good god…” Dennis murmured, as Dumbledore sat, thinking.

“Thank you, Ariadne, this was most illuminating,” Dumbledore mumbled. “Sirius, go…”

“Right,” Sirius grumbled, giving Ariadne one more big hug. “I’m so fucking sorry you had to go through that. I’ll be back soon,  _ probably _ not with a werewolf, but if he wants to come I won’t be able to stop him.”

“Tell him about this,” Ariadne told him as he stepped away, holding up her bandaged arm. “He won’t come if he knows, a cut’s how he got it in the first place.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be back,” Sirius assured her, before with a flash he was Padfoot, scrambling away and out of the Hospital Wing at immense speeds.

“Ariadne, if I may… potentially overstep my welcome,” Professor Dumbledore murmured, looking to her parents almost sheepishly. “It would help immensely if you would grant us a copy of the memory, for review and as evidence,” he suggested, holding up a vial he’d conjured surreptitiously. Ariadne frowned a little, and nodded, holding up her wand questioningly. “Focus on the stretch of time starting with your abduction and ending with your escape, press your wand to your temple and use the incantation  _ memoriae exemplum _ .”

“ _ Memoriae Exemplum _ ,” Ariadne whispered, holding the tip of her golden wand to her temple and focusing on the graveyard, bookended by the turquoise flashes that were the Portkey. A spasm of pale green energy shot into her head, branching out and vanishing into whatever space her magic sense itself occupied, before forming into a thread at the end of her wand, which she dragged over to the proffered vial and draped it into it.

“Thank you, Ariadne,” Dumbledore said, corking the bottle. “You have been  _ more _ than accommodating. Now, I must leave you.”

“Best damn decision you’ve made all afternoon,” Valerie hissed angrily, holding Ariadne’s shoulder. Dumbledore stopped as he stood, facing her.

“Mrs. Granger, I understand your apprehension toward me-” Dumbledore said gently.

“No the  _ hell _ you don’t,” Valerie cut him off. “You didn’t see what the Dursleys did to her. You didn’t see a six year old kid malnourished, covered in bruises, scarred eyes, stumbling around in blind darkness because the people you gave her to didn’t even care about her. She was an inch from death when we met her.  _ You _ gave her to them. And from what Hermione told us, you tried to send her  _ right back _ . So don’t you  _ dare _ tell me that you understand, because you haven’t exactly done anything to get back in the good graces of the Granger household,” Valerie snarled. “And while Ariadne may have born the brunt, Hermione hasn’t fared well from your  _ hospitality _ either. Petrified for months? Do you have  _ any _ idea what it’s like, to know that your daughter might as well have been turned to stone at school and all you can do is  _ sit at home and wait _ ? To know that your daughter got thrown into the most dangerous tournament the wizarding world can throw at her and to have to sit at home, not seeing her until now, knowing she could die and you’d never see her again? Huh?” her mother yelled, her voice echoing through the Hospital Wing as everyone, including Dumbledore, froze at the wrath of Ariadne’s mother.

Only to be interrupted by a choked sob emanating from Ariadne.

_ Voldemort was back. _

“Oh my god it’s worn off, hasn’t it?” Dennis mumbled, pulling Ariadne to him as every emotion the potion had pulled from her was thrown back into her foreground and she collapsed into her father’s and Ginny’s arms. “It’s all right, ‘Adne, we’re here, we’re all here, you’re safe.”

“We love you, ‘Adne,” Ginny whispered, kissing her on the cheek and probably catching some of her tears. “We’re here for you, and we love you.”

“I’m sorry to say, but… it’s getting late, and Ariadne needs rest,” Madam Pomfrey announced gently, as Dumbledore ushered Professor Moody out.

“We have work to do, contact all you can,” Ariadne heard Dumbledore tell Moody before they were out of earshot.

“I must insist that when Sirius gets back and says goodnight, I’ll have to ask you all to leave Ariadne to sleep, I’m sorry,” Pomfrey lamented. “She has gone through  _ far _ too much today, she needs sleep.” Ariadne immediately clung to Ginny, her heart hammering in her chest and strangled syllables escaping her lips that amounted somewhat to  _ Don’t leave me _ .

“Um…” Ginny said, looking around. Patting Ariadne’s back reassuringly, Ginny stood up and sat down on the next hospital bed. “In that case, I’m sleeping here,” she announced.

“Ginevra…” Madam Pomfrey started.

“With all due respect, Madam Pomfrey, I am not leaving her,” Ginny said resolutely, her jaw set as she stepped back over to Ariadne and let her collapse into her arms again.

“All right, Miss Weasley, you may remain. But  _ only _ you, I’d love to let all of you keep her company but I have to ensure this ward remains on standby,” Pomfrey replied reluctantly as Ginny rubbed Ariadne’s back, exchanging a worried look with Dennis. “Castle full of magic, foolhardy teenagers can and do get themselves badly injured,” she explained wryly to her parents as Sirius ran in the door.

“All right, he knows. Was  _ definitely _ about to make a run to come be here for her before I mentioned that cut, your werewolf’s protective, even more than Remus,” Sirius announced. “I’m  _ guessing _ Ron will run up here as soon as his legs aren’t digitigrade anymore.” With his arrival, it didn’t take long for Pomfrey to usher along their goodnights, for an extended hug from her family, and eventually for the shuddering Ariadne to lie down and unsuccessfully attempt to sleep, taking solace in the purple-wreathed blue and yellow core of her girlfriend only a few feet away.

Ariadne Granger was scared.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am mean to my gal, aren’t I? She was at her most confident peak, and now, well...


	147. The Days to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne struggles to sleep, and is visited by friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have caught up with the Expanse as much as I can for now, but that doesn’t mean my brain is perfect at latching onto chapters lmao.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: Flashbacks, deadnaming

> _ “Oh come now, Mister Potter! Enjoy the moment!” the alchemist cried. “Now you just stay right there, all is set for the main event!” _

It wasn’t a dream. That much Ariadne knew. Her glasses were pulsing out blue from the bedside table, cascading over the Hospital Wing as she lay wide awake in the wee hours of the morning, bathing Ginny’s serene face in cerulean magic. She was glad Ginny could sleep. But Ariadne just couldn’t get it out of her head.

> _ “Bone of the father… unwillingly given,” the alchemist declared, as the hungry tentacles of the cauldron absorbed the gnarled bone he’d drawn from the grave she stood on. “Flesh… of the servant… willingly sacrificed!” he yelled, stowing his wand and drawing a knife from his cloak before the blue-coated knife slashed down at his wrist, sending the alchemist’s hand careening into the ravenous cauldron _ .

Ariadne sniffed, rolling a little to the side and jumping as something creaked, something tapped on the window. Every little noise had her on edge as she held her wand on her pillow, screwing her eyes shut.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Ariadne mumbled to herself, shallowly taking a deep breath. “It’s nothing, it’s just a bird or something,” she assured herself.

> _ “And blood of the enemy! Forcibly taken!” the alchemist snarled, stepping over to her with the blade raised, snatching the arm she outstretched in a desperate attempt for controlled, wandless, magic. The long, gently serrated on one side, sliver of metal pierced into her forearm, spilling her blood along its length. Satisfied she’d served her purpose, the alchemist turned back to the cauldron and gave it the final ingredient it so hungrily needed, drops of her blood. Drops of her blood to bring back Lord Voldemort. _

Maybe she should have asked Pomfrey for a Sleeping Draught, she idly thought. It had been hours since Ginny had fallen asleep, and exhaustion wracked her tense jaw and aching arm as she inadvertently put a little more pressure on the bandage than she meant to and winced, trying to readjust again. There was a clock on the wall nearby, ticking away ever so quietly. A clock she had no hope of reading, the face an inset flat circle of glass, featureless and blue when she leaned over to let the  _ aurum _ spell of her glasses get to it. As such, Ariadne had no idea what time it was as loud footsteps began slamming down the hallway, quiet but extremely noticeable to her in her alert state before the doors crashed open with a BANG.

Ariadne span over, her wand already poised as her heart leapt into the stratosphere, before relaxing just as quickly as she’d shot into a proverbial action mode, as the yellow and blue, lycanthropy-spiked core of Ron Weasley shot into the Hospital Wing, the immediate pulse of her glasses revealing quite a bit of the boy who wore nothing but a flailing dressing gown.

“ARIADNE!” Ron yelled, as Ginny bolted awake and Ariadne could only gasp as the boy ran to her and pulled her into his nearly bare chest. “Oh thank Merlin you’re okay,  _ fuck, ow _ ,” he exclaimed, clutching his right thumb and grimacing.

“Wh-whw-Ron?” Ariadne spluttered, shooting him a concerned look.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Ron replied, grunting. “Just left a bit early, thumbs are still figuring themselves out. Ugh, and big toes. I’m fine, this always happens,  _ fuck _ , are you okay? Sirius told me what happened, that’s  _ fucked up _ ,” he groaned, pulling her back to them as Ginny got up. “I would have come up before but Sirius told me about that, does it still hurt?” he told her, gently touching her arm.

“Just aches a bit,” Ariadne mumbled into his shoulder. “Pomfrey put some stuff on it.”

“I’ve got some- ah bugger. Forgot my bag at Hagrid’s, I’ll go get it later,” Ron offered, before realizing he’d run up without bringing anything with him. “C’mere,” he muttered, pulling Ariadne to himself again.

“Ron?! Oh- oh you are… okay..” Ginny exclaimed, before turning her head awkwardly. Ron was pretty close to naked, and Ginny had a slightly less flattering angle than Ariadne.

“Oh, er,” Ron muttered, hastily adjusting the gown. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” Ginny told him, yawning before the door slammed open again and Ariadne practically leapt out of her skin before Madam Pomfrey strode into the wing, glaring at Ron.

“Ronald Weasley!” Pomfrey exclaimed. “Exactly what time do you think it is?!” she hissed, glaring daggers at Ron as she swung a hand at the flat-faced clock.

“Er… 4:40 in the morning?” Ron replied sheepishly.

“Exactly. So unless you hurt yourself some last night, you shut your gob and let Miss Granger get some rest, Merlin knows she needs it,” Pomfrey ordered him. “ _ Barging in here at four in the morning, bloody werewolves. Just like Lupin _ ,” she muttered in an almost endearing tone.

“I heard that,” Ron grumbled. “What  _ about  _ Remus?”

“Overprotective to a fault, the both of you,” Pomfrey sighed, turning back to him. “Whenever any of those three were hurt, he was the first one here. James Potter twisted his ankle once, Remus ran up here like his tail was on fire. He was like a third parent to all of them,” Madam Pomfrey told him softly. “Ronald, I know every bone in your body is yelling at you to help her, to hurt what hurt her, but right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit down, shut up, and let her rest. Okay? Can you do that?” Ron nodded mutely, and patted Ariadne’s shoulder before walking over to the bed opposite her and swiping its pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Ginny asked quizzically as he tossed the pillow onto the stone floor between them.

“Would rather be here,” Ron replied shortly, groaning at a pain in his neck. “Oh hang on, I should probably get dress- goddammit, forgot my bag.” Wordlessly, Madam Pomfrey tossed him a bundle of what Ariadne presumed were pajamas and he quickly stepped behind a curtain.

“Hey ‘Adne,” Ginny breathed, stepping over to her in her own pajamas. “You sleep okay before my idiot brother barged in?” Ariadne wordlessly shook her head as Ginny frowned at something. “You gonna put that away?” she asked, pointing at the golden wand that still lay in Ariadne’s hand.

“Um…” Ariadne mumbled, regarding it. She didn’t want to let go of it, but Ginny put her own hand on the hand holding it.

“Hey. You’re safe here,” she whispered. “I’m not gonna be able to get back to sleep anyway, so I’ll keep an eye out for you, okay? Give it here,” she assured Ariadne, her own fingers taking hold of the wand. Ariadne grimaced, and let Ginny gently take it from her grasp and put it on the bedside table beside her glasses. “I’m here. Ron’s here. Anyone tries to hurt you, I imagine he’d rip their throat out with his bare hands.” Ron, just stepping out in the thin pajamas, nodded darkly, flexing his clicking fingers. “Now come on you, get some sleep, or at least try to, your eye bags are bigger than his,” Ginny said, kissing her on the cheek and stepping back again. “Don’t you want a blanket or something?” she asked Ron as he laid down on the stone floor.

“God no, I’m overheating already,” Ron replied. “I hate summer moons,” he grumbled, as Ariadne laid back down as well. Maybe she’d doze off if she knew Ginny was watching. Maybe she’d doze off if she knew Ron was watching.

Maybe not.

\--

“Morning, Ariadne,” Dennis said gently as he entered the Hospital Wing once more, followed by Valerie and Hermione. “Did you sleep all right?” he asked, offering her a hug as Ginny and Ron sat up and as Hermione sat down beside her. Ariadne shrugged, before accepting the hug. “We brought you some breakfast, here,” he told her, taking a plate of bacon and waffles that Valerie had been holding and handing it to her. “Being our girl’s guard dog, are you Ron?” he asked, as Ariadne picked at the waffles with a fork.

“It’s my job,” Ron replied, shrugging, as Hermione frowned at Ariadne.

“Not hungry?” Hermione asked her. Again, Ariadne shrugged. “You need to eat, you didn’t even have dinner last night.” Hermione was right - her stomach was roiling angrily, but yet Ariadne had no appetite. Regardless, Ariadne pulled some waffle apart and started chewing absently. “Sally-Anne and Parvati sent sweets,” Hermione added, setting a small bag down on the bedside table and rubbing her knuckles anxiously.

“Ah, good morning everyone,” Madam Pomfrey said pleasantly as she stepped into the room. “I’ll just leave your morning potions here,” she told Ariadne warmly, setting the small bottles down with a  _ clink _ .

“Thanks,” Ariadne mumbled, swallowing the warm, tasteless mush that the waffle had become.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked quietly. Ariadne shrugged noncommittally, taking another sluggish bite before she frowned gently, as Hermione’s eyes’ magic coating vanished. She hadn’t blinked, Ariadne could still sense the tiny creases of her eyelids in the split second before her glasses, now on her face, re-pulsed. Ariadne could never tell where people’s eyes were facing, but she knew Hermione’s gaze had moved toward her parents, the coating only covered what of her eyes had been exposed during the pulse. Again, it happened in reverse, before Hermione’s hand rubbed her back. “Hey, um, Viktor, Fleur and Cedric are coming in a bit, Amos, Sirius and Arthur too. That okay?”

“I’d better put my glamours back up,” Ron grumbled, fetching his wand from his pocket as Ariadne nodded over a mouthful of lukewarm bacon. “ _ Erubescent _ .  _ Clazirculous _ …” he mumbled, multicoloured glows adorning his face with every muttered incantation. That was six people, Ariadne numbly realized, adding to the five already present. She wasn’t sure if she wanted eleven people gathered around her, but it wasn’t as if she got much choice in the matter, as, sure enough, the troupe of her peers arrived and she instinctively shrunk into the heavy pillow she leant on, regarding Fleur’s gentle Veela cloud nervously.

“Hey, Ariadne,” Cedric said nervously, standing at the foot of the bed. “Sorry we weren’t here last night, Dumbledore needed us out of the Aurors’ way,” he told her, twisting his head to his father who stood beside him. “Sirius told us what happened, that’s… that’s horrible.”

“What’s more, there’s not a  _ peep _ out of the Prophet,” Sirius added, holding a slab of blue that must have been a newspaper. “All congratulating you on your win, talking about  _ that _ , but  _ squat  _ about what happened after,” he snarled. Her win?  _ Oh. The Tournament _ , Ariadne thought. She’d entirely forgotten about it, were it not for the dragonhide gloves that lay on her bedside table and the boots that stood at its foot.

“What?” Ariadne murmured, frowning at them. “How… b-.. B… he’s…”  _ How can they not be mentioning it?! Voldemort’s back and they want to talk about the Triwizard Tournament?! _

“Fudge doesn’t seem willing to entertain it,” Sirius spat. “Dozen people saw you get kidnapped, but apparently that’s not enough for good old Cornelius,” he added, pacing apprehensively, as Fleur frowned slightly at Ron and squinted at him.

“High Master Karkaroff has disappeared, as well,” Viktor added. “He is not on the grounds, his aides are organizing the  _ Vulchanova _ ’s departure.”

“You’re leaving?” Ariadne mumbled.

“Mm, we must,” Viktor replied. “I cannot speak for others, but I will keep in touch,” he added, smiling warmly as he patted her arm. “With all of you, Cedric, Fleur, Grangers.”

“Appreciate it, Viktor,” Valerie told him, smiling wryly.

“If You-Know-Who is back, we’ve got to stand together,” Cedric agreed, nodding. “Hmph. International magical cooperation. We need it more than ever now.”

“Indeed,” Fleur said. “Madam Maxime is speaking with Dumbledore right now.”

“It’s not just Britain, Voldemort had supporters all across Europe. Karkaroff, for example,” Sirius told her, before looking pointedly at Krum. “He’s not that unpopular in the States either.”

“Hopefully, Karkaroff is running, not joining him,” Viktor said darkly. “He was responsible for putting many Death Eaters in Azkaban before his release, he will not be safe.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t agree with them,” Sirius sighed. “Wasn’t exactly against killing Muggles until he was thrown in Azkaban,” he said as Madam Pomfrey came back in again, this time holding something golden. 

“Percival Weasley just brought this along,” Madam Pomfrey announced, putting down the Triwizard Cup on the table next to her wand and gloves.

“Oh, so Fudge has time to put her name on the Cup but not to mention to the wizarding world that a genocidal maniac is back in business,” Dennis grumbled. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud as fuck of Ariadne for winning, but surely he should have bigger priorities right now?” he added, earning an affirmative look from Sirius.

“You know, I must say, I know it’s not the most important thing, but since we might as well talk about something good for a change, it really is inspiring,” Amos said, smiling at Ariadne as she frowned at him. “I mean, a blind witch who’s effectively muggleborn winning the Triwizard Tournament at fourteen years old?! Making your own spells, killing dragons? You grew up with no idea about any of this, but you two are quickly shaping up to be the greatest witches in Britain!” the Diggory patriarch exclaimed. “It really goes to show that the stuff people like Lucius Malfoy say is so…  _ detached _ from reality, it’s absurd. You don’t need to be some descendant of a great wizarding family. Sometimes it only takes a pair of Muggle dentists to produce the two finest witches Britain’s ever seen. They’ll be telling the stories of Hermione and Ariadne Granger for centuries to come!” he cried, as Ariadne’s mind only latched onto the name of the man who’d witnessed Voldemort’s return only a few feet away from her. Lucius Malfoy.

> _ “I assure you, my Lord, I have never renounced the old ways. The face I have been obliged to present each day since your… absence? That is my true mask.” _

“Although, I must admit I wish my Cedric had won,” he chuckled.

“Hear hear!” Sirius called, beaming at Ariadne, as Hermione smiled and doubled over in embarrassment.

“We’re very proud of… them…” Dennis replied, beaming before he trailed off, turning to Ariadne. “‘Adne, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently of Ariadne’s mute, frozen and wide-eyed appearance.

“He was there,” Ariadne muttered monotonously, blinking.

“Lucius Malfoy? In.. In the..?” Ariadne nodded.

“Nobody stops being a Death Eater,” Sirius grumbled, as Dennis hugged Ariadne, a pat to her shoulder as Hermione grimaced.

\--

The courtyard was an assault of voices upon Ariadne’s ears as the departure of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang was marked by goodbyes and glad promises of continual contact. Despite the forlorn occasion of saying goodbye, the castle was congratulatory and joyful as all but a knowing few looked forward to a warm summer of visits to beaches and ice cream, hikes and shopping trips. Even those who’d known where Ariadne had been taken didn’t all understand its significance, or perhaps were ignoring it in favour of deliberate ignorance, as their dormmates planned their holidays.

“I will owl you!” Viktor called, as he stepped away toward Cedric. “Quidditch practice, let me know when suits you!” Ginny smiled, holding a thumbs-up at him as Ariadne waved awkwardly, biting her lips. “And you, Fleur! Triwizard Champions, we ought to stick together.”

“That we should, Viktor!” Fleur called back, standing by Ariadne, Hermione, Ginny and Ron and wearing the dress uniform she’d first arrived at Hogwarts in. Turning back, she squinted at Ron deviously. “So, Ronald. I believe Ariadne has lied to me. Tell me,  _ are _ you human?” Fleur asked playfully yet quietly as she turned and as Madam Maxime waited a ways away patiently as she waited for Fleur to do as she was told and lead the column of Beauxbatons students back to the carriage through the crowd. Ariadne jumped, as Ginny suddenly span to Fleur. “I am part-Veela, you feel… off. More than usual as well. You were missing last night, and it was a full moon. Werewolf?” she asked, as Ariadne’s arms went numb and Ron jumped at the question.

“Um… What?” Ron asked, clearly anxious as his eyes went wide and he stumbled back a step, looking around nervously. “Of.. Of course I’m human,” he spluttered, forcing a laugh.

“A lie by omission, hmm?” Fleur whispered with a taunting expression. “Of course you’re human  _ right now _ . I would never tell anyone, Ron. Us semi-humans have to stick together. Particularly now.” Ron grimaced as Fleur’s expression became serious. “A fight is coming, and we all must trust each other. You can trust me, Ron.

“‘Spose,” Ron mumbled, half smiling. “Yeah, I am.”

“You hide it well. Although, I know a few tips that might help those glamours of yours,” she added, nodding.

“Are they that bad?” he spluttered, almost spooked.

“Oh no no, they’re not  _ bad _ , but if you look closely, you’ve got some edges to clean up,” Fleur assured him, pointing to a point just below her own eyes. “I just know what to look for. Owl me, perhaps while Viktor is teaching those two lovebirds dangerous Quidditch maneuvers I can give you some makeup tips,” she told him, a mischievous smile marking her face as Ron snorted.

“Maybe,” Ron replied with a grin.

“Anyway, Madam Maxime is waiting, I must go.  _ Au revoir _ , my friends. Safe journeys,” she said, smiling to them all before quickly joining the column of Beauxbatons students, waving gently as she lead them down the warm, outside corridor. Ariadne waved back as the other schools began to leave, Beauxbatons led by Maxime and Fleur, while Durmstrang followed afterward through the ample applause of the Hogwarts student body. Ariadne didn’t feel like joining the throng, preferring instead to stand back instead in the slightly more deserted courtyard as she watched Fleur’s purple cloud filter away through the students and departed the castle, the whinnying of the pegasi their carriage was hitched to filling the air as Ariadne jumped at a booming noise in the distance. Ginny’s hand quickly found hers, and they idly walked over to a little archway into the corridor away from the crowd. Ron, instead of stepping through the door, grunted as he leapt onto the waist-height wall and sat on it.

“D’you think we’ll ever just have a quiet year at Hogwarts?” Ron half-laughed. “I mean, I know I won’t, but…”

“No,” Hermione and Ginny replied in unison, as Ariadne shook her head glumly.

“No, didn’t think so,” Ron said, wincing as he bounced off the wall and into the corridor. “What’s life without a few dragons?” he asked rhetorically as he almost bumped into Ginny.  _ Significantly better _ , Ariadne thought. Hermione frowned.

“Everything’s going to change now,” Hermione said solemnly. “More  _ great change _ ,” she added wryly, as Ariadne nodded.  _ And not for the better _ , Ariadne thought. With Voldemort back, the entire wizarding world was under threat, and Ariadne could not help but feel restless and anxious as she simply stood around with her friends, doing  _ nothing _ .

“Yeah,” Ariadne mumbled. Ron frowned.

“You all right, Ariadne?” Ron asked. Ariadne nodded again.

“I’m fine,” she replied quietly, her jaw tense as she squeezed Ginny’s hand. Ron only frowned again.

“Ariadne…” he said, almost reproachfully. “I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.” Ariadne flinched from the gentle rebuke, before Ron’s free arm surrounded her. “We’re here for you.”

“Promise you’ll write, this summer,” Hermione said to the Weasleys. “ _ Both _ of you.”

“You know I will,” Ron replied, a bit more joy back in his expression and voice. “You won’t be able to get Pig out of the house!”

“And you, Ginny,” Hermione added authoritatively, looking past Ariadne.

“I’ll have to borrow Pigwidgeon,” Ginny replied pointedly at Ron, who grumbled something of the lines of  _ but he’s my owl _ before nodding reluctantly. “And we’ll visit, otherwise this one’ll be stressed as all hell, mister Pack Instinct,” she added, nudging Ron, who laughed sheepishly.

“Should pro-should pro-should probably get packing,” Ariadne mumbled. At least it’d be something to do, to take her mind off of recent events, as the four of them set off back to Gryffindor Tower and their dormitories.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it all begins to get into high gear, and we finish off the Goblet of Fire movie! Next up, Order of the Phoenix, which I know y’all have been having fun apprehensively speculating about.


	148. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Marauders head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All righty now I’ve got chapter plans all the way to chapter 179! Let’s get this going!  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

Packing, it seemed, did not in fact distract Ariadne. If anything, it instead set her watching everyone else in the dorm like an omnidirectional hawk as she idly wrapped her dusty Firebolt in paper and sat it along her bed. It was as if everyone forgot that not only could she sense shape thanks to her spell, but also behind her, as she caught pitying look after pitying look. Hermione was a lot more subtle about it, but even she had been shooting Ariadne worried glances as Ariadne carefully laid the glowing dragonhide robes atop her clothes in her trunk.

Was that everything? Ariadne frowned as she methodically checked through all of the drawers. All empty. She could have sworn she’d forgotten something, so she knelt down to check if she’d missed any of the few things she stored under her bed. No, nothing. She had her clothes, her books had all been laid flat at the bottom of the trunk, her cauldron was accounted for, her supply of potions was already in her bag, just  _ what _ was she missing? Shaking her head and deciding she was imagining it, Ariadne let the lid of the trunk fall down with a loud CLUNK and did up its latches. It was definitely a little heavier than it had been when she’d last unpacked it, most of a year before. 

Why did she have to have been thrown into all of it? It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done  _ anything _ to deserve to have her life chucked back and forth by every evil the wizarding world had to offer. To have been entered into the Triwizard Tournament against her will, to have been used in a ritual to bring back the very man she was unwittingly famous for having supposedly ended as a toddler, before she could even remember. She hadn’t  _ asked _ for any of it, it was the story she had never needed of her life. The mysteriously left niece of the Dursleys was all she had needed, was all the explanation she had cared about, but the scar on her forehead and the words of Professor McGonagall on Hermione’s eleventh birthday had turned her life upside down without even asking if she wanted it.

Why did they have to pull her into their war?  _ I wish the Ring had never come to me _ , Ariadne thought wryly. Somehow, Gandalf’s words about living in such times rang hollow in her mind as she solemnly dragged her trunk down the stairs, carefully shifting to make sure she knew exactly where each stair was. She didn’t  _ want _ to be at the centre of such times. She didn’t  _ want _ to be the Girl Who Lived. She just wanted to be Ariadne Granger. Was it so much to ask, for her to be allowed to just do her exams? To just learn, to just go to school? It just so happened that she couldn’t  _ just _ be Ariadne Granger. Not when the same evil wizard who’d killed her birth parents now ran rampant. No, the wizarding world had decided her fate before she’d even known it existed.

Ariadne straightened quizzically as she reached the Common Room landing, finding that standing on the balcony, frowning morosely, was Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore turned to face her as she stood numbly in the doorway, before a second-year girl had to get past and Ariadne shuffled awkwardly over to the Headmaster.

“I always thought this landing should have had carpet, don’t you agree?” Dumbledore asked idly. “I often came down here at night barefoot, the stone was always cold,” he said. “Sleepwalking, of course,” he said hurriedly, most likely a lie. Dumbledore grimaced. “I put you in terrible danger, this year, Ariadne. I’m sorry.”  _ Yes, you did _ , Ariadne thought, as she nodded.  _ Story of my life _ .

“Prof-prof-prof-f-f-f-Professor?” Ariadne mumbled, expressionlessly. “What’s going to happen now?” she asked quietly.

“A great many things, Ariadne,” Dumbledore replied. “Very few of them good. But you ought not to concern yourself with them just yet. You have gone through a terrible year, and that is my fault. I should never have allowed you to compete in the Tournament.”

“And the rest,” Ariadne muttered, too quiet to be heard and in fact so quietly her lips barely moved. Dumbledore sighed.

“Dark and difficult times lie ahead. Soon, we all must face the choice between what is right, and what is easy,” he told her, before looking away, almost in shame. “Ariadne, twelve years ago, I failed to make that choice. I do not deserve your forgiveness for that failure,” he said quietly, leaning on the railing before gently putting a hand on her shoulder. “But remember this: you have friends here. You are not alone.” Ariadne smiled reluctantly, and nodded, even as her mind struggled to figure out what to say. “I unfortunately must leave you, getting out word of Lord Voldemort’s return is proving disturbingly difficult. Do try to enjoy your holiday, worry not of these terrible things.”

“Wh-wh-whw-what-wha-what-what-what about the memory?” Ariadne asked, frowning confusedly at the man’s back. Dumbledore turned back to her, sighing darkly.

“The Minister is loathe to accept it as evidence of anything but a conspiracy,” Dumbledore hissed. “Your magic sense rendered the memory incomprehensible, I was forced to… alter it, in order to salvage your hearing. As a result, the Minister refuses to accept it as legitimate, and is intimating that it is a complete fabrication,” he grumbled. Ariadne folded in on herself a little, exhaling in frustration. “You know, Ariadne, I’m almost surprised you have never dabbled in the use of a Pensieve. It seems the sort of thing you would benefit from, even if only to enhance your studies. Perhaps you should get one.”

“Maybe,” Ariadne mumbled, shrugging noncommittally. 

“Well. Have a good holiday, Miss Granger,” he said warmly, before stepping on down the stairs to the Common Room and swooping from Gryffindor Tower purposefully.

\--

“Horseless horse-drawn carriages. Should I be surprised?” Dennis chuckled, as he helped Ariadne tug her trunk out of the carriage. “I suppose you can see whatever’s moving it though,” he added, poking Ariadne.

“They’re pulled by Thestrals,” Sirius told him, taking the trunk. Hermione jumped at that, just as Ariadne did at the explanation for why she’d always been able to sense them.  _ Of course... _

“Thestrals?” Valerie asked quizzically. “What’re they?”

“They’re jet black carnivorous winged horses. You can only see them if you’ve seen someone die,” Sirius explained, a forlorn look on his face. “I haven’t been here since before… well. Before last time,” he muttered softly, staring at the Thestral. Ron sniffed loudly, before scoffing.

“Of  _ course _ !” Hermione exclaimed as they began down toward the steam locomotive. “I always thought that Ariadne sensing a horse shape was just an enchantment, I should have realized it might have been a Thestral.” The platform was, as usual, a cacophony of students gathering to decide where to sit and bringing their luggage, students taller and shorter than Ariadne littering the stone structure. Well, far more taller than shorter, even Ginny was considered short by those around them, and Ginny, walking beside her with a pensive look, was taller than she was. She was glad of Ginny’s company as she apprehensively stepped through the crowd, mentally thanking Sirius for handing off her trunk to the porters for her, and they made their way toward the nearest carriage with Ron, Hermione, Sirius and her parents in tow.

“Well this is quaint,” Valerie mused as they dipped into the doorway and climbed the little stairs to the hallway. “Surprisingly cozy,” she added as Hermione lead the group down, checking in windows for an empty compartment as she rubbed the backs of her hands curiously.

“This takes me back,” Sirius said gently as he sat down and the group packed into the small space, Ginny’s hip and waist pressing against Ariadne’s as Ron and Sirius sat down beside them, while her parents and Hermione took the other side. “Crack that open could you, Ariadne? Bloody hot this year.” Ariadne nodded and wordlessly slid the window open as Ginny curled her right arm around her, partially for affectionate reasons and partially because otherwise her arm would have had to exist in the exact same space as Ariadne’s left.

“Oh, thanks ‘Adne,” Ron groaned, relaxing a bit as the gentle wind started filtering in. “Lucky it’s new moon right now, I was  _ knackered _ last time we took the train. Thank Merlin it wasn’t this hot.”

“He’s gonna be a bundle of complaints all summer,” Sirius said, nudging Ginny. “I’ll have to see how Remus is doing, we just had a Muggle air conditioning unit installed at his. Electricity bill’s going to go through the roof.”

“Should have seen him on his first time,” Ginny chuckled. “I swear, he was barely conscious.”

“Hmph, I  _ was _ ,” Ron grumbled. “I was burning up even with six cooling charms and their ice blocks,” he said, fanning himself with his hand and pointing to Ariadne and Hermione. “Huh. I’ve been a werewolf for a year,” he said whimsically as the train whistled and started moving, grimacing at the sound.

“Well, you’re looking good for it. Remus was pretty sickly at your age, regardless of the moon,” Sirius told him, as Ariadne regarded the boy’s practically glowing face.

“Oh, nah, this is just glamours,” Ron said dismissively before jumping. “I should probably dispel these before we’re not allowed to use magic,” he muttered, digging his wand out of his pocket to repeatedly flick it up to cause each one to disappear in succession, leaving only the blue shell projected by Ariadne’s glasses as Sirius chuckled.

“Remus could learn a thing or two from you, Ron!” Sirius barked, laughing. “Maybe the mentor should be the mentee! Oh yeah, that’s more what I remember.”

“Five years ago, I had no idea magic even existed,” Valerie said thoughtfully. “Now, well, my daughters’ best friend is a werewolf, how about that?” Hermione smiled, leaning forward and ruffling Ron’s long, messy hair. Out of the window, the train was moving too quickly for anything to catch Ariadne’s glasses long enough for her to acquire any sort of proper image, so the window might as well have been a void to Ariadne as she sat beside it, smiling gently at the conversation before returning to her expressionless contemplations, occasionally glimpsing trees or fields further from the train, far enough that she could sense them before they passed too far behind the train.

“What do you call a dog that does magic?” Dennis asked, smiling and trying to get Ariadne’s attention.

“Ronald Weasley,” Hermione immediately replied with a devious smile. Even Ariadne snorted as Ron burst out laughing and her father doubled over in mirth, the whole compartment erupting with laughter as Ariadne curled in on herself a little at the noise. Ginny stopped laughing, taking Ariadne’s hand gently and frowning as Dennis spoke up again.

“Pfffffffffffffffff - I was  _ going _ to say a labracadabrador but that’s  _ way _ better!” Dennis exclaimed through his own mirth as Sirius looked out the window as they passed out of a ring of orange light, and as Hermione grinned in satisfaction, her braces peeking out at Ariadne.

“Well,  _ this _ labracadabrador is going to have to disappear,” Sirius announced, standing up as Ariadne span to face him with a frown on her face. “Urgent business, got to go. Hey,” he said, stepping over to Ariadne as Ginny and Ron moved to occupy the space a little more comfortably. “I’m sorry to go, but I’ll keep in touch as much as I can, all right ‘Adne?” Ariadne nodded, grimacing, before Sirius leaned down and hugged her, his beard tickling her cheek as his curly hair mingled with her own. “See you,” he said warmly, before with a flick of his wand and a  _ CRACK _ , he vanished. The ring must have been Hogwarts’ apparation ward, Ariadne realized as she jumped at the noise of Sirius’ departure.

She was no longer under the protective skirts of Hogwarts. Ineffective as they had been, that fact still gnawed at her as the train chuffed ever on southward, flashes of blue-glowing trees and farmland occasionally greeting her through the window through which a mercifully cool wind blew, blowing her hair all askew as Ginny laughed and batted it out of her face.

“Oh come on, Crookshanks, he’s perfectly friendly,” Hermione chided her cat as he hissed at Ron from her lap. “Sorry, he’s not normally like this.”

“Wasn’t like he liked me much to start with,” Ron grumbled humorously. “I should probably drop Care of Magical Creatures, Crooks isn’t alone.” Ariadne raised an eyebrow idly, agreeing - he’d not done as poorly as he’d thought he had, but that didn’t mean it was an easy subject for him.

“What would you take instead?” Hermione asked as she hoisted Crookshanks up.

“I dunno. Maybe Muggle Studies?” Ron pondered, frowning a little.

“You’d have to take the exam, if you wanted to start it in fifth year,” Hermione told him. “And remember, Professor Burbage’s curriculum is more thorough than the old one.” Ron shrugged.

“I s’pose that’d be all right, at least an exam won’t try to stab me,” he chuckled, smiling at Ariadne.

“ _ What?! _ ” Hermione exclaimed, leaning forward and letting Crookshanks depart her shoulder and seek the attention of Valerie. “What do you mean  _ stab you _ ?!”

“Unicorn. Liked her heaps,  _ hated _ me,” Ron replied, pointing at Ariadne again, as Dennis frowned slightly before immediately accepting the existence of unicorns.

“Hmph. Well, I’d be happy to help you study if you want to take Muggle Studies. You should probably owl Professor McGonagall,” Hermione offered.

“I’ll think about it,” Ron mumbled, as Ariadne let herself lean into Ginny a little, the proximity comforting as Ginny absently draped an arm about her and rubbed her back reassuringly, Ginny’s own hair smushing against hers as she leant her head gently toward Ariadne.

\--

“All right, where would those Ministry people we’re supposed to be going with be?” Dennis mused as they stepped forth from the wall that was Platform 9 ¾ into King’s Cross Station, as Ariadne hurriedly clipped together her collapsible cane and surreptitiously let her glasses hang from her neck on their chain as they pulsed the station into her sense.

“They said they’d have a car, so probably in the carpark,” Valerie replied, as Ariadne slid the ball end of her cane along the ground before her and caught a glimpse of Molly Weasley’s core approaching.

“There you all are!” Molly called jovially, spreading her arms as Ron ran over and immediately hugged her. “Ayy, there’s my boy!” she cried, squeezing him in her arms. “Oohhh, I love you Ron,” she added, as Ginny patted Ariadne’s hand and let go, jogging over to her mother.

“Hey Mum!” Ginny called.

“Ginny! And Fred, George! Oh it’s good to see you all again!” Molly exclaimed, hugging Ginny. “And the Grangers, lovely to see you!” Ariadne waved awkwardly as Molly beckoned them over, before obliging her and scuttling over with the other Grangers, Dennis pushing her trolley. “You, young lady, should have told me you two were seeing each other! Or, I suppose sensing,” Molly cried, making Ariadne blush profusely. “Oh, come here,” Molly grabbed her, making her seize up anxiously with a hissing breath. “Now, I am not against having one more daughter-in-law than I’d expected, but you’d better earn it!” she exclaimed affectionately, eventually letting go of Ariadne. “Don’t you make me intervene!”

“N...nnnn-nnn-no, Mrs. Weasley,” Ariadne replied sheepishly, struggling on the most basic of syllables as Ginny hurriedly took her hand back.

“Leave her alone, Mum,” Ginny laughed. “Go easy on her.”

“Oh, all right. But you’re not sleeping over in the same room anymore, Percy’s old room’s the new spare,” Molly replied, setting off on her way and ruffling Ariadne’s hair, making Ginny scoff.

“Hey, we exist,” Fred called jovially, earning a gigantic hug from his mother. “Oh! Not only has Ariadne been wooing little Gin-Gin, she also invested a thousand galleons into Wheezes!”

“She  _ what _ ?!” Molly exclaimed as the Grangers grinned, and Ariadne went even redder. “Well then, I hope you two properly express your gratefulness,” she said sternly, as the sweltering heat of the outside sun smothered Ariadne and made her even more pink.

“She’s a stakeholder,” George told her.

“Good, good. All right, we’re parked down there,” Molly announced as Ariadne’s cane met the blister paving at the crossing. Dennis leaned over and pressed its button, Ariadne glad of her glasses as cars drove by even as she sensed the magical core of the Ministry driver across the carpark - blue and green. Valerie and Dennis had arrived by Portkey, so the Department of International Magical Cooperation had organized transport home for them. “All right, well, we’ll see you soon!” Molly called as she began to walk off. Ariadne awkwardly held her arm out, and Ginny immediately wrapped herself around her.

“I’ll see you around, ‘Adne,” Ginny murmured into her ear. “Hey, um, do you want me to come over, for your birthday and everything?” Ariadne nodded, as Ginny gently kissed her cheek. “Okay, I’ll bring Ron. Love you,” she told her, as Ariadne returned the gesture and kissed Ginny’s cheek, her heart fluttering anxiously at the fairly public display of affection.

“Love you too,” Ariadne said, just as Hermione span to her.

“Ariadne! The crossing’s green!” Hermione called urgently, as Valerie and Dennis pushed their trolleys noisily across the blister paving and started hesitantly walking over the crossing. Ariadne grumbled as her fingertips lost Ginny’s, as she hurriedly followed her family, wishing she’d had longer to say goodbye. “Sorry, doesn’t look like the buzzer’s working.” Even with her glasses, it wasn’t exactly as if she could sense the colour of a crossing light, and it always irritated her when the sound prompt wasn’t working, their maintenance was always neglected. Even so, it did not distract her from the purple-coated yellow, blue and red core of her girlfriend bobbing away and waving gently.

“See you, Ariadne, ‘Mione!” Ron called loudly, waving as he jumped to see over cars.

“You too, Ron!” Ariadne wished she could wave back, but she couldn’t explain how she knew he was waving to anyone non-magical so she let Hermione do the waving for her as they approached the presumably Ministry-owned car.

“Granger family?” a man in a long suit called, waving a hand as he stood by the door. “Kingsley Shacklebolt, Auror. It’s good to meet you,” he said warmly, shaking Dennis and Valerie’s hands. “Shall we get you four home then?” Kingsley seemed a fairly nice individual as he made small talk with the parents, and they all piled into the deceptively spacious interior of the enchanted vehicle - its inside was almost limousine-like in proportion, while the boot had been so cavernous their trunks and various bags had been swallowed easily, unlike the difficulties they often had with their own car.

Come late afternoon, Ariadne was glad to be home, even if its surfaces were completely devoid of hers and Hermione’s naturally shed magical coating. Everything was as she had left it, and yet Ariadne could not shake her unease. Normality taunted her as memories of curses and Voldemort sparked through her, and she suspected she would get just as little sleep as she had that night as she lay on her bed, only the thinnest of her blankets over herself in the heat, her glasses pulsing away on the bedside table as she struggled to doze off, jumping at every unfamiliar noise and creak of the house. The thrash of a leafy tree outside, the cracking of its twigs, Hermione shuffling about upstairs as she plugged in a fan so as to be able to make use of a weighted blanket. All kept her awake all night, as she lay sullenly, pleading with her mind for rest.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I been busy lately so chapters have been slower! I promise, I’m human.


	149. Lived It Ten Times or More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne has her friends over for her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a TVTropes page now. That’s a funky time. https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/KaleidoscopicGrangers  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: This chapter in particular includes discussion of depression, even if the word is not itself used.

Get up. Take potions. Have breakfast. Mill about. Have lunch. Mill about. Have dinner. Go to bed.

Try to sleep.

Get up. Take potions. Have breakfast. Mill about. Have lunch. Mill about. Have dinner. Go to bed.

Try to sleep.

Get up. Take potions. Have breakfast. Stress. Have lunch. Get ready for Ron, Ginny and Sirius to come over.

The mind-numbing monotonous routine of the holidays boring into Ariadne’s skull as she spent day after day restlessly listening to her old audiobooks, occasionally answering letters before resuming her jumpy pensiveness, had finally been interrupted as the fireplace in the lounge twirled into a brilliant orange light, and bursting from it stumbled Ron and Ginny in quick succession. Ariadne faced up, glad to sense Ginny as Ginny cried out happily and ran around to her.

“Heyyy! Happy birthday, Ariadne!” Ginny squealed as she waved Ariadne side to side in her arms. “I love you,” she added, rubbing her cheek against Ariadne’s.

“I love you too,” Ariadne replied quietly, as Ginny let go of her and smiled widely. “How’re you doing?”

“Good, good,” Ginny replied. “Got that appointment next Tuesday, hopefully it goes well,” she added. It was to be the fourth of Ginny’s six-month appointments with Doctor Tenet, and as usual, Ariadne would be coming with. “But enough of that, it’s your birthday!”

“Yeah!” Ron called, striding over and also offering her a hug. “C’mere you,” he mumbled, as Ariadne held out her arms. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks Ron,” Ariadne said, before recoiling a little. “Eurgh, you’re all sweaty.” Ron immediately stepped back sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Ron grumbled sheepishly. “It’s too bloody hot.”

“Can’t you lose some layers?” Hermione asked, frowning as she turned on the fan in the corner. Ron doubled back with an utterly bewildered expression, before Hermione actually looked at him and jumped. “Oh wait, you’re-”

“Yeah, I’m only wearing one, silly,” Ron told her, laughing slightly as he pulled at the fabric of his t-shirt. “You don’t get to see me shirtless,” he added, making Hermione look away awkwardly.

“The only person here who  _ hasn’t  _ seen you shirtless before is Ariadne, and she’s blind,” Ginny laughed.

“We’re here too, you know,” Valerie called humorously from the hallway. “Good to see the both of you, welcome, welcome, we’ve got some snacks over here if you’re hungry- pfffffff-” she added warmly, before snorting at Ron’s immediate attention. “Don’t worry, the ones you can’t have are on the other end of the table.”

“These ones?” Ron asked, tapping a little label on a bowl of chocolates. “Hrrrrmph,” he grumbled with a saddened look. Oh how Ariadne knew Ron missed chocolate. “Wait, aren’t these chocolate?” he asked, pointing to another that was on the ‘safe’ end.

“Oh! No!  _ Those  _ are carob, common chocolate substitute, it’s all right for dogs so I’m assuming it’s fine for you,” Valerie replied, stepping over.

“Carob?” Ron asked quizzically, setting the box he’d been holding on the table and plucking one of the nibbles out of the bowl to eat it. “Hmm! That’s good! Oh! ‘Adne, I baked!” he exclaimed, tapping the box. “Cookies and muffins, nothing fancy, getting back into it,” he said eagerly as Ariadne jumped, in the middle of plucking a cookie from Ron’s box, at a crack outside and a chaotic knock at the door that heralded the arrival of one Sirius Black.

“I’ll get it!” Dennis told them, shuffling off with a handful of what were probably M&Ms.

“And I made you these!” Ginny added, pulling a handful of paper from her pocket, her face suddenly falling. “Wait, fuck.”

“What?” Ariadne asked, frowning curiously at her sudden forlornness.

“I forgot, you can’t use your spell at home, can you?” Ginny said. “They’re sketches, I… I’ll make something else, ugh, sorry.”

“Tha-that-th-th-thththt-that’s okay, you don’t have to” Ariadne assured her, smiling and holding her hand out for the sketches. “I’ll just have to wait until we go back to school is all. I’m sure they’re great, she said, before Sirius popped through the door.

“Ayyyyy, there’s the birthday girl!” Sirius exclaimed, swooping in for a hug from behind her, a satchel hanging at his side. Ariadne was not certain she was enjoying having  _ everyone _ hug her, as she froze up briefly at the sudden contact. “Fifteen years old, look at you!”

“H-hey Sirius,” she stammered, smiling awkwardly. “Hey, um… I-I I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I can’t cast my spell here, can-ca-can-can you-?” she asked, holding up the sketches.

“Oh! Oh sure,  _ aurum  _ pencil,” Sirius spluttered, quickly pulling out his wand and casting a blue glow over what Ariadne discovered was an excellent rendition of an owl.

“Thanks Sirius, I er… I forgot about that,” Ginny admitted, trying not to get crumbs on the floor as she bit into a muffin. Ariadne, meanwhile, was leafing through the drawings - they featured owls, castles, even Crookshanks and Hermione, as well as a portrait of the pair of them side by side with a message written in cursive that read  _ For Ariadne, my heart - Happy 15th Birthday, beautiful. _ Blushing, Ariadne detached from Sirius and hugged the bashful Ginny again, wishing she could communicate how she felt. Or how she  _ should _ have felt. She’d been a little emotionally swaddled in the days prior, so it was more of a conscious love than unconscious as she wordlessly thanked Ginny for the sketches.

“Well, it took me fifteen years, but at last I finally turn up at your birthday party!” Sirius chuckled, patting her shoulder. “Happy birthday, Ariadne.”

“Well, we’ve got snacks, we can put on some music maybe, and then there’ll be dinner and cake,” Valerie said happily, stepping back. “Not a hundred percent sure what we’re doing for dinner, that’s up to ‘Adne.”

“Maybe we should get a big dish of beef chow mein,” Dennis laughed, patting Ron on the shoulder as Valerie snorted and Ron turned to him, confused.

“Huh?” Ron spluttered, as Sirius shared in his confusion.

“Oh! Oh, right, I forget you guys don’t always know Muggle things,” Dennis replied excitedly. “I’ll see if I can find the song, hold on!” Ariadne grimaced, remembering the lyrics.

“I… it… I-I I dunno, it’s-it’s a bit…” Ariadne quavered, as Ron looked to her curiously.

“Ariadne raises a good point, is that  _ really _ a song he’d want to hear?” Valerie chided Dennis, as Ron only appeared more bewildered. “I mean, ‘little old lady got mutilated late last night’ is a  _ bit… _ ”

“Wha’?” Ron chuckled as Dennis hesitated in fetching a CD.

“It’s… okay, it’s a Muggle song called  _ Werewolves of London _ , you’ll either laugh your head off or absolutely hate it,” Dennis told him. “It’s  _ meant _ to be funny, at least,” he added, pointing the CD at the player questioningly.

“Sure, why not?” Ron said almost dismissively. “It’s not like it can be much worse than the sort of stuff wizards would make.”

“All right, if it makes you uncomfortable just tell me to turn it off,” Dennis replied, pressing play and letting the jaunty guitar and piano start up. Ron seemed almost immediately curious, as he tilted his head humorously at the rhythm.

_ I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand, walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain. He was lookin’ for the place called Lee Ho Fook’s - gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein. _

Ariadne was glad to hear a gentle breathy chuckle from Ron at the silly song, which snorted its way into a cackle as the chorus began.

_ A-hooooooooo, werewolves of London! A-hooooooooo! A-hooooo, werewolves of London! A-hooooooooooooo! If ya hear him howling around your kitchen door? You better not let him in! _

“Sound advice for Mum,” Ginny snorted as she smiled curiously.

_ Little old lady got mutilated late last night. Werewolves of London again. _

Ron frowned at that one, drawing back a little, but didn’t stop bobbing along happily and tapping his feet as the chorus repeated and Hermione, noting his seeming okayness with the song, started stimming along.

_ He’s the hairy-handed gent who ran amok in Kent. Lately he’s been overheard in Mayfair. You’d better stay away from him, he’ll rip your lungs out Jim! Ha, I’d like to meet his tailor. _

Ron burst out laughing, smothering the chorus in his contagious laughter, and Ariadne was glad to know that the boy had a brand new favourite song as she smiled guiltily at him and he joined in with what was left of the chorus, very deliberately pronouncing the howls as he happily tilted his head back and sang.

“A-hooooooo, werewolves of London! Ha, Sirius, we gotta show Remus this!”

\--

Ron and Ginny had, after an afternoon of doing very little, eating takeaway dinner and some very filling cake and singing all the while, had eventually had to say their goodbyes and disappear into the fireplace again. Her parents had wanted to talk to Sirius, and so Ariadne had taken the opportunity to take Ginny’s sketches to her room and fold them into the pages of the sketchbook she’d been given for Christmas. It would have been nice to display them, she thought, but she couldn’t benefit from them at home and the questions from visiting relatives could have been awkward.

There were a number of things flitting about her mind and tearing down the curtains for her attention as she sat down on her bed, sighing tiredly. Ariadne’s life had taken on a mind-wrenching dissonance in the weeks she’d been at home. What was she supposed to do? The wizarding world was facing its most dire threat, and yet despite being so embroiled in it that she had been essential in its return, there she was. Sitting at home, a belly full of birthday cake. It was only more dissonant when it combined with her next greatest worry.

What was she supposed to get Ginny for her birthday? Her mind was a slog as Ginny’s birthday fast approached in only a week and a half, but she had no idea what to get her. Or make her? Was she supposed to one-up her Christmas gift? In that case, what on  _ earth _ would be a suitable gift that was better than a broomstick or could follow up from one?! She’d backed herself into a corner, and ironically her mind was more obsessed with the fact she hadn’t come up with anything than it was engaged in the process of actually coming up with something.

Oh yeah, and Voldemort was back.

She was endlessly stressing over what to get her girlfriend for her 14th birthday while Voldemort was ramping up for a return of the terror that had plagued the wizarding world at the time of her birth. Everything was wrong and she was just  _ tired _ . Ariadne frowned as the sound of her parents and Sirius returning down the stairs creaked through the house and their hushed voices only  _ just _ filtered into her ears.

“Um, can you… can you talk to Ariadne?” Valerie asked quietly. “I mean, it’s not like we can just take her to a counselor,  _ you  _ try telling a Muggle counselor that your daughter got abducted by an evil wizard.”  _ Huh? _

“I.. I can do that, why… what’s wrong?” Sirius asked worriedly, as the footsteps stopped.  _ Seriously? _ Ariadne huffed, as they resumed shortly after and, surely enough, one Sirius Black knocked on the doorway. “Ariadne!” he said cheerfully. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure,” Ariadne muttered, turning on the bed to face him politely as he softly sat down on it, bouncing a little as he laid his satchel on the floor.

“Well this is cozy,” Sirius said, looking about. “I’ve still got to tidy up most of my place, there’s just so much dust. Gives me the sniffles. What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning on his crossed legs, his casual appearance somewhat odd given the semi-formal outfit he wore.

“I know they asked you to talk to me,” Ariadne muttered glumly, fiddling with her blankets. She’d neglected to make the bed after getting up, and so they were in a rough pile.

“As well they should. They’re your parents, it’s their job to worry,” Sirius replied pointedly. “It’s my job to worry too, Ariadne. For fourteen years I wasn’t there for you. I’ll be damned if I’m not now, so. What’s on your mind?” he asked, gently patting the mattress and leaning over endearingly.

“I… I ‘unno,” Ariadne mumbled, shrugging. “I… I-mmmm…” she spluttered, mouth puttering open like a fish out of water. She didn’t even know how to word what she wanted to say to  _ herself _ , let alone aloud. “I… I ju-I just… Everything’s wrong. Everything’s… ugh,” she shrugged.

“How… how do you mean?” Sirius asked solemnly. “Do you mean everything  _ feels _ wrong or things are  _ going _ wrong?”

“I… mm.. Both?” Ariadne replied questioningly, instinctively crunching in on herself and laying her elbows on her skyward knees. “I… I just… everything feels  _ wrong _ , and… and like…  _ grey _ ?” Ariadne forced herself to breathe, realizing she’d held her breath. “I… I don’t know,” she mumbled, her jaw tense as she felt as if her mind had been plucked from her body. She  _ wanted _ to be happy to sense Ron, and Ginny, and Sirius, but it was like something was in her way, like a great concrete block stood between her and them. She knew she loved Ginny, and she knew she’d been happy to sense her, but it was like it was missing. Like she  _ shouldn’t _ have been happy, like that was wrong.

“It’s okay, come here,” Sirius murmured, shuffling over and pulling her into a gentle hug. “It’s okay, I’m here to help,” he said as he rubbed her back.

“It’s-t’s-t-ts-s-sit’s-it’s-it’s like you’re not,” Ariadne whimpered as her chin wobbled involuntarily. “I… I’m  _ happy _ you’re here, and Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione… but… but it-t--o-i-i-i-i-i… it’s like it’s not  _ there _ and…” she cried, a tear escaping her eyes as she struggled to breathe, sniffling into his shoulder as he frowned gently. “‘M sorry…” she quavered. “It’s just… it’s… how can we just sit there and watch  _ Doctor Who _ when  _ You-Know-Who _ is back?!” she exclaimed angrily.

“That’s exactly what you should be doing,” Sirius said, leaning back and staring her in the face intently. “I know how you feel. You feel like you have to stop him, like you have to go and fight the big fight, like you’re sitting here doing nothing, and I don’t deny you’d be valuable, but… Ariadne, you’re only just fifteen.”  _ Technically, I’m nearly sixteen _ , Ariadne thought. “Let the adults take care of it.”

“But he wants to kill me,” Ariadne mumbled glumly, before Sirius took a firmer hold of her shoulder.

“Listen to me, Ariadne,” he said decisively. “That  _ doesn’t _ mean it’s your job to stop him. That’s  _ our _ job. It’s our job to stop him so you  _ can _ sit here and watch  _ Doctor Who _ .” Sirius sighed, looking down before returning his gaze to Ariadne. “Dumbledore told me not to tell you this, but fuck that, you need to be informed for the sake of your mental state.” Ariadne frowned. What would Dumbledore hide from her?

To be fair, quite a lot, if she thought back.

“We’re putting the Order back together. The Order of the Phoenix. Using my place as headquarters, I don’t take up much of the space,” he told her.  _ That _ name she was familiar with, having read about their involvement during the war before her birth. “We’re still setting up, but Alastor will be over in a few weeks to get you all over, they’re wanting to know if your parents want to be involved, all that. Protecting you is our priority.” Ariadne nodded, blinking and expressionless. “We’re keeping an eye on this place, and your parents are safe when they go to work, don’t worry.”

“There’s… there’s gog-gog-go-going-going to be another war, isn’t there?”

“It… feels like it did before,” Sirius replied sadly. “I was… nine, when he first rose to power. Younger than you, but… I don’t want you all to have the childhoods we had.” The man sighed, shuffling his shoulders out of his coat. “I shouldn’t wear this when it’s this hot, I’m sweating like a  _ hog _ ,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck, I was supposed to pass a message on to Ron from Remus, ask if he wanted to come over next moon, hang out with us. Mind if I borrow Hermes?” he asked, pointing over to where Hermes was perched in his unlocked cage. Ariadne nodded. “Thanks.” With that, Sirius quickly sat down and scrawled out a short message to Ron in the magical ink that sat in a bottle beside the paper. It was only a line or two, but at the angle, Ariadne couldn’t read it. “I’ll tell Remus to send him back to you,” Sirius said as he let Hermes out of the open window.

“‘Kay,” Ariadne replied as Sirius sat back down beside her.

“That’s a nice painting, Ginny’s work?” Sirius asked, pointing to the flat pane of blue magic that stood atop her dresser. Ariadne nodded.

“I… I don’t know what to get her for her birthday, next Thursday,” Ariadne admitted sheepishly.

“See,  _ that _ ’s the sort of thing you  _ should  _ be worrying about at your age!” Sirius laughed. “Oh, speaking of birthday gifts.” Sirius leaned over to his satchel, and produced a small bundle. “I don’t know if it’s quite your style, but Andromeda said it might look good on you.” Curiously, Ariadne took the bundle and let it spin out, revealing a thin, flared dress with wide triangular shoulders. “It’s from before Dora’s sort of gothic phase, got a nice floral pattern on it there.”

“Dora?” Ariadne asked curiously.

“Your second god-cousin if you count through me, Nymphadora Tonks,” Sirius replied with a smile. “Andromeda’s her mum, another black sheep among the Blacks. She was disowned, for marrying a muggleborn, but since I’m the only Black left outside a grave or Azkaban, well it’s not really their choice anymore. It’s been nice to reconnect with them, Dora was… oh, what was she… I think she was eight the last time I saw her before Azkaban? She’s all grown up now,” he said, his expression becoming forlorn. “Hmph, still likes to keep her hair purple. Wanna try that on?”

At Ariadne’s nod, Sirius gave her her privacy, and Ariadne set about putting on the dress, which turned out to be a little baggy on her as she embarrassedly made sure it covered her bra, but her godfather assured her she’d grow into it. Eventually, Sirius departed, urging her to try to relax and let him know what her favourite episode of  _ Doctor Who _ was once she’d finished listening to the season.

_ Try to relax _ , Ariadne thought ruefully.  _ I’ve been  _ trying  _ to relax all week _ .

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the SFW (safe for werewolves) end of the table, and the NSFW (not safe for werewolves) end of the table.  
> Hey so I’m glad that there’s no specific information on how closely the Blacks might have been related to the Potters because I checked Sirius’ relations to check what Nymphadora was to Sirius and… uh… I’m glad I don’t have to worry TOO much about whether Ariadne/canon!Harry and Ginny are just as terrible as the rest of the stupidly incestuous pureblood families. Just. Why. Why are y’all just the freaking Hapsburgs.


	150. The Sorceress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne goes with Ginny to a decisive appointment at Saint Mungo’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, I get busy. God I wish I had more brain power, this would’a been written a whole day earlier.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: Transphobia (mentioned as a single line memory, including a slur)

“They’re back in the TARDIS,” Hermione whispered to Ariadne as Ariadne fiddled with the bracelet Ginny had given her, the flat screen of the television exactly that - flat - to Ariadne’s magic sense as she slid the bulky knot of the string she’d attached to it into a more comfortable position on her wrist.

_ “What happened?” _ Rose asked as the harsh sound of the TARDIS’ engines fading away filled the living room and Ariadne shuffled about a little on the sofa.

_ “Don’t you remember?” _ the Doctor replied, almost incredulously, as Ariadne checked her watch with her finger. It was a good thing the episode was likely to come to an end shortly, it was almost three o’clock. Ginny’s appointment, only a few days before her birthday, was imminent. Ariadne still didn’t know what to get her.

_ “There was this singing…?”  _ Rose said uncertainly.

_ “That’s right. I sang a song and the Daleks ran away,”  _ the Doctor said smugly, the gentle thrumming of the TARDIS accompanying what, to Ariadne, was a completely flat blue surface of the television. She was facing it, yes, but more out of social imitation than any particular need to.

_ “I was at home. No I wasn’t, I was in the TARDIS and… there was this light,”  _ Rose said.  _ “I can’t remember anything else…” _ Hermione gasped.

“‘Adne, ‘Adne, his hand is glowing!” she exclaimed, waving her arms before bringing them together in a curious knuckle-tapping rhythm. Curious. As Hermione had described, the Doctor had absorbed the power that Rose, as the Bad Wolf, had held. Had he retained some when he’d returned it to the heart of the TARDIS?

_ “Rose Tyler… I was going to take you to so many places. Barcelona? Not the  _ **_city_ ** _ Barcelona, the  _ **_planet_ ** _ Barcelona, you’d love it, fantastic place, they’ve got dogs with no noses!”  _ the Doctor laughed.  _ “Imagine how many times a day you’d end up telling that joke and it’s still funny!” _

_ “Then why can’t we go?”  _ Rose asked confusedly.

_ “Maybe you will. Maybe I will. But not like this.”  _ With that, Hermione’s jumpy movements intensified.

“Oh my god, he’s going to regenerate, isn’t he?” she murmured, shock spreading across her blue-coated face as Valerie and Dennis smiled knowingly. Ariadne frowned. Eccleston had only served as the Doctor for one season, a short run to say the least compared to his predecessors, save only for Paul McGann who’d played the Doctor in the American movie.

_ “You’re not making sense.” _

_ “I might never make sense again! I might have two ‘eads! Or no ‘ead! Imagine me with no head! And don’t say that that’s an improvement.” _ he laughed.  _ “But it’s a bit dodgy, this process. You never know what you’re gonna end up with.” _ Ariadne jumped as a shrill, electronic screech filled the lounge, her legs tensing against the sofa and her breath hitching as Hermione gasped.

_ “Doctor?!” _

_ “Stay away!”  _ the Doctor exclaimed desperately.

_ “D...Doctor tell me what’s going on.” _

_ “I absorbed all the energy of the Time Vortex, and no-one’s meant to do that!” _ he replied as the mystical piano score twinkled back into being.  _ “Ugh. Every cell in my body’s dying.” _

_ “Can’t you do something?” _

_ “Yeah, doing it now!”  _ the Doctor said casually.  _ “Time Lords have this little trick, it’s sort of a way of cheating death. Except… it means I’m gonna change. And I’m not gonna see you again. Not like this, not with this daft old face.”  _ Ariadne’s mouth hung open a little as she realized Hermione was right.  _ “And before I go-” _

_ “Don’t say that!”  _ Rose said, a horrified tone filling her disembodied voice.

_ “Rose. Before I go, I just want to tell you you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And d’you know what? So was I,”  _ he continued, before the music ascended into a crescendo, piano twinkling triumphantly before a blistering dash of roaring noise exploded from the television and Hermione gasped, her mouth hanging open as she watched with baited breath. Eventually, after what Ariadne could only describe as a gurgle, not unlike a gentler version of the process she’d heard in Professor Moody’s class on Polyjuice, the energetic scream of the Doctor’s regeneration ceased and the music silenced itself. Hermione immediately jumped into motion, her arms waving chaotically and threatening to smack into Ariadne’s cheek if she’d been closer as the sofa shook from her enthusiasm.

_ “Hello! Okay, oh-mm?” _ a new voice said, as a thrill of unpleasant energy shot through Ariadne’s shoulders.  _ “New teeth. That’s weird. So, where was I?”  _ Ariadne drew back, frowning as she listened. The voice was familiar.  _ “Oh that’s right! Barcelona!” _ It was at that moment that the snarling synths of the theme tune blared into being, and Hermione  _ immediately _ started talking.

“That was terrific!” Hermione exclaimed. “The way Rose was the Bad Wolf and how she vaporized the Daleks and how she brought Captain Jack back? Wait, how’s he going to get off the station? They left him behind.”

“I don’t know, I actually forgot about that,” Dennis mumbled, frowning. “I guess that’ll come up in the next season with this new Doctor, what’s his name, David Tennant?”

“MM! I wonder where he fits in with the old show, is he after McCoy or is he after Paul McGann in the movie? Or is it a reboot? I mean, there were previous Doctors in some old episodes, maybe we’ll see- what’s wrong Ariadne?” Hermione ranted, before stopping in her tracks with a concerned frown at Ariadne’s confused appearance.

“I… I’ve-I’veI’ve-I’ve heard… I’ve heard that voice before?” Ariadne mumbled, frowning.

> _ “I can see why the Dark Lord wants you dead you smartarse tranny freak!” _

It couldn’t be the same man, she knew, but even as she shook her head dismissively, she couldn’t help but recall the angry voice of Bartemius Crouch Junior in Professor Dumbledore’s office at the similar one of David Tennant and this new Doctor.

“What else has he starred in?” Valerie mused, before Ariadne’s watch beeped a couple of times. “Oh, that’ll be you, Ginny’s thing is in fifteen minutes isn’t it?” Ariadne nodded, swallowing as she stood up. “All right, well you’d best Floo over to theirs. The Burrow isn’t any trouble to say?” Ariadne shook her head, before grumbling at her mother’s insistent look.

“The Burrow,” Ariadne demonstrated reluctantly.

“All right, well, off you pop then. Say hello to the Weasleys for us, and let Ginny know we wish her luck, yeah?” Valerie said warmly, patting her shoulder. “I think you said last time was promising?”

“Yeah,” Ariadne replied, nodding.

“Good, let us know how it goes when you get back, okay? Have a good afternoon, we’ll see you later,” Valerie continued, as Ariadne stepped over toward the fireplace.

“See you, Ariadne!” Hermione called, waving to her.

“Sen-sense you, ‘Mione,” Ariadne replied sheepishly, before she took a handful of the glittering orange and yellow powder from its pot beside the fireplace and stepped into the floo. Clearly, her parents had refilled it over the school term. “The Burrow,” Ariadne said carefully, letting the powder cascade about her feet before orange light erupted about her as she flinched at the sight of her golden wand falling from its anchored position in her sleeve.

Her heart twitched in sudden fear as she was thrown through the psychedelic maze of the Floo Network, before in a flash she tumbled into the living room of the Burrow, her wand dangling from the string she’d tied about it to tether it to her wrist and the beaded bracelet Ginny had given her. Somehow, she remained on her feet, that  _ somehow  _ immediately revealed as her glasses pulsed to be the arms of one Ronald Weasley, immediately stopping her from falling.

“Woah, hey ‘Adne!” Ron exclaimed, his hair partially tied back in a ponytail. “Good thing I was walking by, huh?”

“Oh, there you are!” Molly said from the dining area, poking her head around at the commotion and as Ron slapped Ariadne’s back jovially as he let go of her to enter the kitchen. Ariadne, meanwhile quickly slipped her wand back into her sleeve.

“Ooh, ooh! Ariadne!” Ron exclaimed, bursting back out of the kitchen with a precariously balanced plate of slabs in his hands. “Made these, want some?”

“Uh… whw-what-what are they?” Ariadne spluttered, frowning gently even as she reached out for one questioningly.

“Blondies! They’re like brownies but they’re vanilla so I can actually eat them,” Ron explained eagerly. “Can’t eat too many though, they’re bloody sugary,” he added, suppressing a burp.

“He’s already had at least four just this morning, I think for the sake of his health we should probably remove the temptation from his path,” Molly chuckled, plucking one from the plate.

“Uh… thank you,” Ariadne mumbled, taking one of them with her left hand and holding her right beneath it to catch any crumbs. “Mm! It’s good,” she added through a sweet mouthful of the soft blondie, a commotion of footsteps sounding above them.

“Ariadne!” Ginny exclaimed, as her head was suddenly revealed poking out from the staircase by Ariadne’s glasses and the racket of her footsteps filled the air. Ariadne hurriedly swallowed the admittedly insufficiently chewed blondie as Ginny ran down the stairs in a t-shirt and jeans and a small bag at her shoulder, the resultant hug from the rapidly approaching girl surprisingly gentle as she slowed down at the last second, leaning into Ariadne instead of pulling her. 

“Hey, Gin,” Ariadne said, holding the remaining confectionery up so she didn’t get crumbs all over Ginny’s back. “How ya doing?”

“Doing good, hopefully this bloody thing doesn’t come home later,” Ginny replied, smiling as she held up her purple-glowing bracelet. “What about you, you doing okay?”

“‘M okay,” Ariadne replied as Ginny let go of her, nodding slightly as Ron clattered about in the kitchen.

“I don’t know what those boys are up to but I don’t know if I should be more worried by the fact that they’re quiet instead of noisy,” Arthur announced as he came down the stairs. “Ever since they lost their Traces they’ve only been more dastardly. Ah, Ariadne! I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea what my sons are up to, stakeholder and all?” he asked. Ariadne jumped a little, shaking her head. Was she supposed to know? “Oh well. I’ll ask them later. We all ready to go?” he asked, checking them over.

“I believe so. Ron, you mind holding down the fort?” Molly replied, leaning over to Ron who’d just put a rack of freshly-baked biscuits onto the counter, his hands covered in mitts.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be the guard dog,” he smiled, as his mother slumped.

“Oh I didn’t mean it like  _ that _ -”

“I’m kidding, Mum,” Ron laughed. “Hey, er, you wanna take these?” he asked, reaching over and holding out a plate of biscuits Ariadne hadn’t sensed due to it being hidden behind the kitchen wall. Tilting over, she was bemused to sense that the entire kitchen bench was covered in the boy’s exploits.

“I don’t think Mungo’s will let us bring them, but I’ll have a couple,” Molly replied warmly, taking some and biting into one. “Mm, excellent as always. He’s been baking like mad, but I  _ will _ need you out of the kitchen at some point so I can make Ginny’s cake,” she added. Ginny’s birthday was only two days away, and Ariadne couldn’t help but immediately return to her worrisome state - she still hadn’t figured out what to get her, and she was entirely unwilling to go shopping in Diagon Alley. “I suppose I’ll need to buy flour?”

“Maybe, yeah,” Ron replied sheepishly. “And sugar.”

“Oh, I’ll see what you’ve  _ left me _ later,” Molly chuckled, kissing Ron on the side of the head. “Love you my boy, see you when we get back.”

“See you!” Ron called, waving as the four set about Flooing to Saint Mungo’s. With a great orange blaze, they quickly found themselves in the lobby of Saint Mungo’s, being ushered over to their usual small room where Doctor Tenet soon found them, the same strange, acrid, sterile smell of even the magical hospital piercing into Ariadne’s nostrils as she sat beside Arthur, watching.

“Ah, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Miss Granger, good afternoon everyone,” Doctor Tenet said warmly, stepping into the room with a clipboard and a couple of folded up enchanted tripods. “All right, how are you feeling, Ginny? How’s that casting going?”

“Pretty good,” Ginny replied, pulling her wand from her pocket as she sat on the pillows of the bed in the middle of the room. “Hard though.”

“Well, hopefully that’ll change today,” Tenet told her, snapping out the legs of the tripods before standing one beside Ginny. “Okay, so we’re going to do the same thing we did last time, if you remember? We’ll take that off, and then we’ll give it a few hours and see what happens, sound good?”

“Yep,” Ginny replied anxiously, giving Ariadne a smile as she took off the bracelet, the purple shell about her magic vanishing and leaving her yellow, blue and red core open and free to exist as she pleased. Tenet nodded, letting Ginny put it aside on a nearby table, as she snapped the conical magic sensors into action, little beams of colourful magic flitting into connection with Ginny’s unrestrained core.

“All right, everything looks fine  _ so far _ , and last time it seemed like things were going well,” Tenet announced. “Your magic’s had two years to readjust itself, so we’ll have to see how well it’s done - you’d be surprised at how much a teenager’s magic can develop in that time.”

“Really?” Molly asked, curious as she looked over to Tenet.

“Oh yes,” she said, turning the second sensor on with a small  _ pop _ . “It’s often associated with growth spurts, that sort of thing. And little Ginny  _ has _ grown quite a bit since we first met, haven’t you, not quite so little hmm?” Ariadne smiled, a tiny flicker of happiness flitting through the gloom that had been her mind for a number of weeks. She had to admit, she was a long way from disliking that Ginny was at least two inches taller than her. “Now, you get comfy dear. I’ll be in the next room, if you sense anything before these do, come and get me, Miss Granger,” Tenet told them, giving Ariadne a strange look as she began to step out.

“And now we wait?” Arthur said questioningly.

“And now we wait.” With that, Tenet disappeared into the hallway, her robe flapping on the doorway as Ginny wiggled down on the cushions and rested her elbow on one, beckoning Ariadne over. Ariadne floundered a little, figuring out the physical motions of moving the little metal chair she’d been sitting on as her wand fell out of her sleeve again, dangling pendulously from its string as she let it swing before she sat back down, Ginny rubbing her arm as she fiddled it back into her right sleeve.

“Hey um, I brought this book Hermione let me borrow, um…  _ Return of the King _ ?” Ginny said, pulling the thick book out of her bag which sat in her lap. “D’you want me to read it to you?”

“Um…” Ariadne quavered, frowning gently, before Ginny’s words immediately echoed her chaotic and anxious thoughts.

“I know Hermione’s probably already read it to you, but..?” Ariadne smiled wryly and nodded as Ginny gladly opened the book to her bookmark and began to read. “ _ Chapter Six: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields. But it was no orc-chieftan or brigand that led the assault on Gondor. The darkness was breaking too soon, before the date that his Master had set for it: fortune had betrayed him for the moment, and the world had turned against him; victory was slipping from his grasp even as he stretched out his hand to seize it, _ ” Ginny recited.

\--

“There’s a staaaaar-maaaaan waiting in the sky! He told us not to blow it, ‘cos he knows it’s all worthwhile, he told me! Let the children lose it, let the children use it, let the children boogie!” Ariadne and Ginny sang as the tinny sound of David Bowie’s  _ Starman _ buzzed out of her MP3 player. Ginny had grown tired of reading, and so they’d turned on some music as they’d waited. It had been several hours since Doctor Tenet had left them, and as yet, nothing had changed. No urgent shudder marked Ginny’s magic, no symptom of her unique condition had yet manifested.

“Do you know what this song’s about?” Arthur asked Molly, frowning bemusedly as Ariadne’s watch beeped.

“Not a clue,” Molly chortled as she twiddled her wand at the knitting needles she’d brought, guiding their movements with a shuddering blue beam of magic. “Do you think Ron would like to help with dinner tonight?”

“With how much he’s been baking lately? Molly, just you try and stop him,” Arthur replied. Just as the song ended, there was a knock on the door and the magical core of Doctor Tenet filtered into Ariadne’s sense, half of her form illuminated as she stepped in, before her glasses pulsed once more to reveal her entirety.

“Afternoon all,” Tenet said as Ariadne hurriedly turned off the MP3 player before it moved on. The robed woman made her way quickly over to the monitoring devices connected to Ginny’s core. “Well, it’s been four hours, let’s see here… Oh! No change, not even slightly,” she announced gladly. Ariadne’s heart jumped as Ginny gasped, her eyes wide. “Good good good good good, what about over here?” Tenet shuffled over to the other, brushing past Ariadne’s leg. “Nope, nothing here either.”

“Really?!” Ginny exclaimed, looking back and forth between Ariadne and Tenet, her mouth agape.

“Indeed…” Tenet murmured, as Molly sat up, her knitting needles dropping into her lap. “Miss Granger, do you sense anything?” Tenet asked quickly, turning to Ariadne with an intense look.

“N-nnn-no,” Ariadne mumbled. It was true; Ginny’s magic was idle, its only motions being that of Ginny’s eager gladness and hope.

“Do you mean-” Molly hissed, staring at Tenet.

“I do believe…” Tenet muttered, sending a gentle green beam at Ginny from her wand for but a moment, before a glad smile filled her face. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know you don’t need this anymore,” she told Ginny, who gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth as Tenet picked up the bracelet and slid it into her pocket. “No more of that evil little book’s nastiness in you, your magic’s adjusted itself.”

“You.. you mean I can-?!” Ginny exclaimed, laughing through her hand in awe as she fumbled her red wand out of her pocket. Tenet nodded, smiling as she switched off the monitors. “YES!” she yelled, shooting upright. “HAHA!”

“That’s incredible!” Molly cried, bundling her knitting up so she didn’t drop it. “That’s amazing, Ginny!”

“Go on my girl, cast something!” Arthur added, beaming as he patted Ginny on the back.

“ _ LUMOS ASTRA! _ ” Ginny yelled, throwing her wand into the air with a gigantic flare of her now glorious red, yellow and blue core.

Ariadne shrieked as the world went white, throwing her hands up protectively as she lost all definition of anything around her, a billion billion points of light filling the sphere of her mind and turning all she could sense to brilliant white.

“HAHAHA!  _ AMAZING _ Ginny,  _ amazing! _ ” Arthur cried, the sound of someone clapping wildly filling the room as Ariadne felt around wildly, her heart hammering in fear.

“Ginny? Ginny?” Ariadne spluttered urgently, unable to find any point of reference in what was quite the opposite of darkness save for her own magical core. Her head was ringing with the energy of Ginny’s spell as it burned into whatever point of magic provided her sense, quickly throbbing into a headache.

“ _ Nox! _ What’s wrong, ‘Adne?” Ginny said hurriedly, the blaring light vanishing in an instant as Ginny’s hands met hers and a scared face met Ariadne’s glasses.

“E-e-e-eev-e-e-vev-everything went white,” Ariadne mumbled, clutching at Ginny’s arms as she caught her breath after the shock Ginny had given her.

“I… wha- I whited out your magic sense?!” Ginny exclaimed incredulously, even as she pulled Ariadne into a hug and her face was smushed into Ariadne’s wavy hair. “Holy shit!” she breathed, a joyful laugh bobbing into Ariadne’s ears. “HahahaHAAA! FUCK YES!” Ginny yelled, twirling off the bed and standing, jumping about excitedly.

“Language, Ginny,” Arthur laughed.

“Oh, I think we can excuse her letting loose a little,” Molly too laughed. “That’s wonderful my dear!” she cried, as Ginny leapt into her arms, squealing happily. Ariadne allowed herself the spark of joy that filled her heart in that moment. Of all the horror the world had thrown at them all, at last a light was glimmering in the darkness, as Ginny’s magic was then and forever more free of the purple film that had caged it for two years, stronger than ever.

It did not change what terror the future promised. But perhaps it added one extremely strong wand to the cause, as Ginny gladly hugged her father, her magic buzzing not in damage or curse, but in joy and power.

Ariadne’s joy, however, was a little marred as an errant fact flitted back through her mind.

She still didn’t have anything to give Ginny for her birthday.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoyed that little poke at David Tennant lmao. That opening scene wasn’t quite meant to be half of the usual chapter length though, it’s why I skipped to the appointment suddenly lmao.  
> Gods I also enjoyed the soft domestic vibes Ron had there, lad’s getting back into the swing of cooking - wasn’t really in a state to the year before.  
> And Ginny is unleashed! Man, I’ve been looking forward to this.


	151. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny’s birthday arrives, and yet, Ariadne still has nothing to give her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue accidentally timed Valentine’s Day content  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

> _ Ariadne Granger, _
> 
> _ Apologies for using non-magical ink, I don’t have any you could read. I know you cannot use your illuminating spell at home, so have Hermione read this to you. _
> 
> _ My apologies for not owling sooner - I have been very busy. I would like to wish you a Happy Birthday, as I recall it passed recently. _
> 
> _ How have you been? I myself have been quite busy with recent events, and the Bulgarian team stops training for no-one! I got a bit slow after going for so long off a broom, so I have needed the practice. _
> 
> _ You know, a number of Quidditch teams in the UK seem to have realized I know you - they have been asking me to put in a good word for them, some of them want to look into training you to join their teams out of school, or even before. I do not recommend it. I know, I did so, but you are more… academically inclined than I. It would disrupt your studies far more than you would like, I am sure. _
> 
> _ However, I would be glad to come and see you all! If possible, I would enjoy playing a friendly game of Quidditch with you and your friends. I have been in England on business occasionally of late - when would be a convenient time? _
> 
> _ Your fellow Triwizard Champion, _
> 
> _ Viktor Krum. _

“I wonder what Viktor’s up to,” Hermione mused, leaning on the doorframe as she folded the note back up, letting the poofy owl shake its head and disappear out of the window with a ruffle. “I suppose we’ll have to ask everyone if they’d like to play with him.”

“Hmm,” Ariadne mumbled as she debated whether or not to bring a jacket. According to the weather reports, it wasn’t quite the murderous heat that had assaulted Britain that summer, but it was still very warm. Deciding she’d overheat if she wore it, Ariadne reluctantly put it back into her closet beside the glowing green dragonhide robes and untied her wand from her bracelet, sliding it into her jeans’ pocket where it stuck out on an odd angle. She’d have worn shorts, were it not for her growing self-consciousness about her leg hair, and she still hadn’t figured out how to ask her mum to get her disposable razors in the shopping. Hermione, not caring about such matters as usual, didn’t own any. That and that none of her shorts had pockets. She was, however, wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt that she was starting to outgrow. “How… how do I look?” she asked sheepishly, turning to Hermione.

“I don’t know, you know I don’t know a thing about fashion,” Hermione replied jovially. “Well- ugh, if you mean do I think Ginny will like it, yes, I think she’ll be happy to see you and you look good,” she groaned, noticing Ariadne’s deflation. “The colour is nice.”

“This is the pink striped one, right?” Ariadne asked, frowning. Hermione nodded.

“Yep. We should probably head over, Ginny said one and it’s… twelve fifty four,” Hermione said, checking her watch and starting out into the hallway. Ariadne hurriedly grabbed her basilisk-tooth necklace off the dresser before following her, her stomach complaining about its lack of sustenance as she pulled the cord of the necklace over her head. “You all right?” Hermione asked, frowning curiously at Ariadne’s blank expression. Ariadne nodded, even as she couldn’t help but shrug slightly. “Okay. We’re off Mum!” Hermione yelled into the house.

“Okay! Have a good time girls!” Valerie called from upstairs. With that, Hermione smiled and took Ariadne’s hand, gently pulling as the pair of them stepped into the fireplace.

“The Burrow,” Hermione said calmly, flicking a handful of glowing Floo powder into the fireplace beneath them. Ariadne flinched and took in a sharp breath as the orange light enveloped them with a roar, throwing her through a rollercoaster in the space of a second before the pair of them shuffled to a halt in the fireplace of the Burrow once more.

“Hi, Mister Weasley!” Hermione called to Arthur, who was walking past with a conical birthday hat atop his head.

“Ah, Grangers! On time, as always, come in, come in,” Arthur said, sliding by the table, upon which a number of plates and snacks were poised. 

“‘Adne! Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed, veritably leaping about the corner in her full unrestrained magical glory as Ariadne could not help but feel a pang of guilt for her empty pockets in the moment before she was quite suddenly wrapped in arms and her face covered in braided hair.

“H-hey Ginny!” Ariadne exclaimed breathily, as Ginny knocked the wind out of her and rocked her from side to side. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh! Granger!” someone spluttered as they too came around the corner, their core red and green as Ariadne jumped and her glasses pulsed to reveal a familiar fluffy-haired girl. Ariadne had met her before, she was relieved to know, but she wasn’t particularly familiar with Ginny’s dormmate aside from one or two interactions.

“Er… hello, Clarabelle?” Hermione replied questioningly, tilting her head with her hands curled together as Ginny finally let go.

“Clarabelle Burton, you’re Hermione Granger, right? It’s nice to meet you,” Clarabelle confirmed, holding out a hand and smiling.

“You too,” Hermione said hesitantly, quickly shaking the offered hand before returning her knuckle to the tangle she’d made with her other hand.

“Oi, get over here Maddie!” Ginny called, her hand still entwined with Ariadne’s as she leaned over to see whoever remained in the dining area before another individual, mousy-haired and willowy in stature stepped out awkwardly. “This is Maddie, Maddison Fletcher. She’s in Ravenclaw, but we’re in Ancient Runes together,” Ginny explained, pulling Ariadne toward the tall girl.

“Hi,” Maddison said quietly, leaning down to offer a hand to Ariadne. “Hi… um, Ariadne.”

“Hello,” Ariadne replied, awkwardly taking her hand and shaking it. “It’s-it’s-it’s nice-nice to meet you,” she stammered, before Hermione gasped.

“Oh! Who brought Cluedo?!” Hermione exclaimed, running over to the box. “I loved this game when we were little!”

“Me,” Maddie replied, raising her hand. “My parents are Muggles, so I thought it might be fun to see if they knew it,” she said as she waved a hand at the Weasleys and Ron poked his head out from the stairs.

“Oh, us too!” Hermione replied. “We looked into getting tactile Cluedo for Ariadne once, it was over three hundred pounds!”

“Hey guys!” Ron called happily, clattering down the stairs. “Happy birthday Ginny,” he added proudly, spreading his arms to point to the baked-goods covered table. “You lot’d better eat all this, otherwise I’m gonna make myself sick finishing it all.”

“You made all this?!” Clarabelle asked incredulously.

“Yep!” Ron replied. “Well, most of it. Oh! ‘Mione, McGonagall got back to me, says I can switch to Muggle Studies if I take the paper before term starts,” he called, pointing emphatically with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and eagerness as Ariadne found herself caught in the middle of at least two conversations she wasn’t a part of, stewing in the knowledge that despite the blue-coated decorations and food that surrounded her, she had brought Ginny nothing.

“Oh nice!” Hermione called back. “Hey, I can go back and get the textbooks if you’d like, I’ll take you over the material. It’s mostly twentieth century history and non-magical British culture,” she told him from across the table.

“Later, maybe,” Ron replied, smiling. What kind of person was she, to have forgotten to get her girlfriend a gift for her birthday?! “If you’re staying over, might as well.”

“Ooooooo, study date!” Ginny smirked, grinning dastardly at Ron. “Ron and Hermione, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-”

“Wha- I- we- no!” Ron spluttered as Hermione’s immediately looked away and both their magical cores flickered in anxiety. “We are not- that’s you two!” he exclaimed, pointing to Ariadne indignantly. Ariadne barely sniffed in amusement, the tiny flicker of a smile meeting the corners of her tense jaw for but a split second. She didn’t  _ deserve _ Ginny. “Ginny and Ariadne sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” he half-chanted pointedly.

“I didn’t actually know they were…” Maddison whispered to Clarabelle.

“Just because  _ I _ nabbed myself a Granger!” Ginny protested, smirking. “Do catch up, Ronnikins,” she added smugly, as Ron turned away and she went to kiss Ariadne on the cheek, before pulling away with a disturbed expression. “You’re all sad and frowny, why are you sad and frowny? What’s wrong?” she asked seriously, taking Ariadne’s arm.

“I… mm-I-I-ng-” Ariadne quavered, grimacing at the sudden attention from the entire room and trying her best to collapse in on herself like a black hole. “I… I… I didn’t get you anything,” she whimpered, shame crashing her mind down upon itself as tears escaped her eyes and she sniffed snot back into her nose.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Ginny assured her, gently putting a hand on her back and ushering her to sit under the staircase. “I don’t mind, you know that right?” she said, frowning as she rubbed Ariadne’s arm reassuringly.

“I’m sorry,” Ariadne mumbled through another rattling sniff, her chest tight and her brow furrowed. 

“No… mmph,” Ginny grumbled. “I didn’t  _ ask _ you to get anything, and you’ve been through hell. Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re here, and that’s enough,” she assured her, even as Ariadne quavered and shifted awkwardly, unable to believe what Ginny was telling her. “Hey. Would you be mad at me if I didn’t get you anything?” Ariadne shook her head vigorously. Never. “Then why would I be mad at you?” The flicker of a frown found its way onto Ariadne’s face as the logical truth of Ginny’s words clashed with the sundered battle-plain that was her emotions. Ginny was right, of course, but yet Ariadne could not shake the sensation that she had failed her. “Are you okay? I mean, even at  _ your _ birthday you were… quiet? You barely said anything and it was your birthday, and you seem… distracted? Absent? What’s wrong, ‘Adne?”

Ariadne shrugged, shaking her head about as she tried to think of an answer that wasn’t  _ everything _ . Was there even an answer aside from it? Her life had been plagued by the horrible machinations of Death Eaters and monsters and dragons ever since she’d been plunged into the magical world. For two years, Ginny’s magic had been suppressed because she had thought the girl anxious and hadn’t said anything. Her best friend had become a werewolf because she had decided to go camping. A Ministry official was dead because she hadn’t gone to Dumbledore about what she’d sensed earlier. You-Know-Who was back because she didn’t do enough to stop him. It was all her fault.

“It’s You-Know-Who, isn’t it?” Ginny asked gently. Ariadne tilted her head, grimacing. That was certainly part of it. A big part of it. “You’re scared.” Ariadne nodded, as Ginny pulled her into a hug, rubbing her sobbing girlfriend’s back.

“I just… I feel like we’re not… we’re not  _ allowed _ to be happy, to be… You Know Who’s back and we’re just… everything’s wrong and- hic-” Ariadne cried, her waning ability to speak bubbling tears and phlegm into Ginny’s hair.

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” Ginny murmured, pulling her in closer. “We’re all scared. I mean, Ron’s been stress-baking ever since he got home. Mum and Dad don’t say it, but they’re scared too. He  _ wants _ you scared, he wants  _ us  _ scared,” she whispered. “But that’s  _ why _ we  _ should _ be doing this, right? Despite You Know Who. He doesn’t want us having birthday parties and spending time together, he wants us scared and divided. So let’s be happy instead,” she said, letting herself face Ariadne confidently. “I can do magic again. That’s good. It’s my birthday, that’s good. Focus on the good, because You Know Who wants us to be focusing on the bad,” she said. Ariadne grimaced, still sniffing, as she nodded noncommittally. It made sense, but yet it didn’t. How  _ could _ she focus on the good when the bad was so momentous? Seeing her pensiveness, Ginny grumbled and leaned up, kissing her on the forehead. “Um… c’mon, I had an idea about something we could do,” she said, standing up and offering a hand. Face blank, Ariadne took it and found herself quickly dragged to follow Ginny up the stairs, passing a surprised Molly who ruffled the pair’s hair as they clattered past.

“Ginny and Ariadne sitting on a bed K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Ron snorted as they disappeared up the stairs and Ariadne heard Hermione open the Cluedo box. Ginny’s room had changed little since she had last been there, albeit possessing a larger bed than Ginny had used to, and it was surprisingly well coated in her yellow, blue and red palette of colours. Standing by the window stood the easel she’d bought her, and a number of canvases stood leant up against the dresser as Ginny let go of Ariadne’s hand and lifted one off the easel, putting it down beside the others. Standing against the wall, Ariadne recognized the poles and magical glimmer of the sign Ginny and Hermione had hoisted at the Triwizard Tournament.

“I… have still got…” Ginny mused as she clattered some things out of her way, searching for something. “Aha! Some of that paint Flitwick made!” she exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a blue-spattered pot. “C’mere, c’mere, c’mere,” she said, beckoning Ariadne over. Frowning, Ariadne stepped over a stack of books and joined Ginny beside the easel, where Ginny hoisted a presumably blank canvas. “So I thought… maybe  _ you _ could paint something,” she told her, smiling and offering a paintbrush.

Ariadne hadn’t even thought of that, that she could use magical paint. Twitching curiously, she took the paintbrush and gave Ginny a questioning look.

“Wh-what do I… h-how?” Ariadne stammered. She’d never really explored artistic expression using her magical ink, her limited supply provided by Professor Flitwick had meant she’d been perfectly happy to leave it within Ginny’s domain. The closest she’d done had been the rough designs for her watch.

“Well, what do you feel like painting?” Ginny asked patiently. “We’ve only got the one colour, so it might just have to be lineart.” Ariadne pondered it, her face still gently coated in dry tears and a headache forming in her skull. Something simple, preferably. Trees were easy, right? People sounded complicated, trees were just a trunk and the leaves really.

“Maybe… maybe a tree?” Ariadne replied quietly, still questioning it as she said it. “Wait, what colour is it?” she asked, tilting her head at the blue-glowing paint.

“Oh, it’s red,” Ginny replied.

“Oh,” Ariadne said, forlornly. “Trees are green, aren’t they?”

“It can be a tree in autumn,” she replied, shrugging. “What sort of tree?”

“Uh…” Ariadne mumbled, confusion flooding her mind. Oak? Pine? For that matter, what was the difference? She’d never actually asked what the many varieties of trees she’d sensed since developing her spell were.

“Tall and skinny? Short and wide?” Ginny chuckled, noting Ariadne’s immediate loss of confidence. 

“I dunno… just.. A tree,” Ariadne said, shrugging.

“Okay then,  _ just a tree _ . Well, here’s the paint, go wild,” Ginny said, depositing the paint on the table beside Ariadne and standing back slightly. Ariadne hesitantly dipped the brush into the glowing paint and pulled it out again. The blue substance was dripping, but slowly, and she didn’t really know if she was supposed to let it drip.

Out of an abundance of caution, she let it drip as she watched it to her side intently. Eventually, it seemed the cascade of blobules had stopped, and so she began pulling the brush over toward the canvas. Hurriedly, before it dripped again, Ariadne connected brush to canvas, a ways further to the left than she had intended in her rush. That would just have to be the left side of the trunk, she thought as in her concentration, she didn’t notice the smile on Ginny’s face. Ariadne pulled the brush up, before pulling it off in concern.

“Is… is it supposed to change shape?” she asked hurriedly, turning to Ginny, who laughed.

“Yes, hun, it’s supposed to do that. Keep going,” Ginny said endearingly, beaming at her. Blushing at her own silliness, Ariadne returned the brush to the canvas, noting with some concern that the strokes she was haphazardly sending upward - a little further upward than she’d intended, as well - were starting to get dimmer. Watching Ginny for an either disapproving or approving expression, she dipped the end back into the pot of paint. She decided she should probably do the right side, and pressed the brush to a spot approximately equal in distance from the centre to her previous one, and with a wobbly, sniffly motion, Ariadne had painted two entirely uneven lines up the canvas before she realized it was probably best to leave space for the leaves. “You’re doing good!” Ginny assured her, holding up a thumb and smiling widely. 

_ Okay, how do you draw leaves? Paint leaves? I guess it’s all the same _ , Ariadne thought, beginning to stiffly push the brush around in arcs above the branches. She froze as Ginny scoffed and stood. 

“You’re holding it all wrong,” she murmured lovingly, stepping over and gently taking a hold of Ariadne’s hand. “You want to have it on a bit of an angle, like  _ this _ ,” Ginny told her, standing directly behind her and gingerly pulling her hand so that the brush rested on the canvas on an angle, paint seeping down the canvas. “See?” she added, as she guided Ariadne around an admittedly much easier arc. And again, and again, and again, before what was almost a fluffy cloud lay above the too-tall trunk. However, it seemed they weren’t done as Ginny guided Ariadne’s hand back into the cloud to add yet more poofy arcs, before letting go. “Wanna give it some roots?” Ariadne frowned, and dipped the brush back into the paint before beginning to add a few gnarled shapes to its base. The only roots she’d ever observed had been above ground, and so her tree would share that as Ginny smiled. She did, however, jump and create a strange stripe on the painting quite by accident as Ginny laid a hand on her waist from behind and put her head on Ariadne’s shoulder.

Eventually, however, after adding a hillside landscape and some rough flowers, Ariadne stepped back, satisfied but unsure where to put the brush as she quavered anxiously.

“D’you wanna put a signature on that?” Ginny asked, prompting Ariadne to quickly dash her initials onto the corner, separated by a lightning bolt. With that, Ariadne gladly relinquished the paintbrush, which Ginny put into another pot which was clearly full of water, at least from the  _ plunk  _ that emanated from it as she did. “I’m gonna hang that up once it’s dried,” she said warmly, patting Ariadne’s arm as Ariadne blushed, not believing her handiwork deserved a place on Ginny’s wall, not with the skill that must have been present in what was already up. “ _ There _ ’s my cutie,” she said, leaning into Ariadne and kissing her, just aside her own lips. “C’mon, I do have friends, you can’t hog me all day babe,” she added with a chuckle before dancing into the hallway and beckoning Ariadne back downstairs, where apparently Ron had won Cluedo and Hermione was indignantly trying to figure out when he’d developed a brain.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I evilly smirk at everyone’s apprehensive speculations.


	152. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers are invited to meet with the Order of the Phoenix at number 12 Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re wondering where I forgot the Dementor attack - I didn’t. Ariadne’s not going wandering about suburbs like canon!Harry, they never got an opportunity.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: Fantasy bigotry, PTSD triggering.

“Hermione, got Crookshanks? Yes, good, all right let’s go,” Valerie muttered, patting each of her daughters on the back in succession as they stepped past the imposing figure of one Alastor Moody in the doorway, Hermione’s bag loaded with her weighted blanket and Crookshanks’ food. Flapping Moody away, Valerie locked the door and let Hermione choose a seat in the glowing magical Ford Anglia that stood grumbling in the driveway. It had only been a few days since Ginny’s birthday, and as Sirius had promised, Alastor had arrived - along with Arthur - to bring them to his place. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

“Couldn’t have left the bloody cat here, I suppose?” Moody grumbled irritably as he kept his distance from Hermione, who wordlessly rocked Crookshanks in her arms as she claimed one of significantly more seats in the car than Ariadne remembered, as she herself took the middle one in the back beside Hermione. Despite the four of them all cramming in behind the seats where Arthur and Alastor were sitting, the dimensions of the car didn’t exactly match the exterior, much like the car that had delivered them home after the school term, and so it was a comfortable if snug ride.

“We’re not leaving him unsupervised for three days, otherwise he’d eat all his food on the first day and wake up the neighbours trying to get more,” Dennis replied reproachfully. “Are you allowed to wear that eye in public, Professor Moody? It’s clearly magical,” he asked, sitting beside Ariadne.

“I- what?” Moody spluttered, spinning in his seat and frowning at him, the orange glow of his eye peeking out at Ariadne as she did up her seatbelt hesitantly. “Hmph.”

“Hey there girls, Valerie, Dennis,” Arthur said warmly as he pulled down the handbrake with a clunk and started the car swinging backward. “It’s a fair question, Alastor.”

“And not one I’m often asked,” Moody told him, an eyebrow raised. “Simple answer, we’re not in public,” he said sternly, taking a one-sided sniff as Arthur laughed. “Get us invisible and in the air before someone murders us,” he growled at Arthur as Ariadne shuffled about uncomfortably and Hermione played with Crookshanks’ fur in response to the vibration of the engine through the footwell.

“Ah, I do love how well you two take magic. I don’t think  _ anyone _ ’s ever asked Mad-Eye here if he’s even allowed to have the thing on!” Arthur sighed, pressing the invisibility button on the dashboard with a C-CHUNK before he pulled the gearstick back and gravity pulled Ariadne’s spine into the seat as the solid magical shell of the car around her hoisted itself into the air. Valerie shrugged, throwing her arms up.

“Honestly, at this point nothing surprises me,” Valerie said in a completely neutral tone. “‘Mione comes home with enchantment homework, Ariadne has a racing broomstick, we get mail from owls, their best friend is a werewolf. I mean, we’re sitting in a flying, invisible, bigger on the inside Ford Anglia driving over London,” she added pointedly, waving her arms about them as Dennis snorted. “Her godfather spent twelve years in a magic prison that sucks the soul out of you and can turn into a german shepherd on command, this stuff is weird, I don’t question it anymore.”

“Fair enough,” Arthur chuckled. “When you put it like that it makes us all sound rather absurd. Shan’t be too long a trip, not unless one of those blasted planes gets in the way, or one of those helly-copters,” he announced as Dennis craned his neck slightly to look down out of the window. That was a fact Hermione was clearly glad of once they touched down not ten minutes later, the tyres crunching down onto a street before Arthur peered out of the windows and jumped to turn off the invisibility booster.

“C’mon,” Alastor growled, taking two raucous sniffs as Valerie gave him a weird look.

“Are you allergic to cats, Professor Moody?” Valerie asked devilishly as they swung open the doors and began stepping out.

“Extremely,” Moody grumbled, suddenly throwing his elbow up to his face as he sneezed. Ariadne, meanwhile, was preoccupied with something quite different as she hopped out of the vehicle. She’d intended to check around for anyone who might question her lack of her cane and her lensless glasses, after all, it had the same potential for Statute breaches as Moody’s eye, but her attention was suddenly enraptured by the absolutely bizarre sensation of stepping out onto the street. Behind them was a park, trees coated in blue waving gently in the humid although mercifully cool afternoon wind, as well as its fence and a number of what might have been parking meters - that Arthur was ignoring - but before them was, behind a slowly departing rubbish truck…  _ something? _ Ariadne drew back in surprise and confusion as her mind glossed over the  _ something _ . There was quite certainly magic there and she  _ could _ sense it, but whenever she tried to focus on it, it was as if her very being were shoved back, slid to the side and forced to disregard the knowledge that there were definitely colours  _ there _ , but the answers to what they were or where  _ there _ even was were entirely unavailable to her as she held a hand to her head at the quickly developing headache she felt. “What is it, girl?” Moody asked.

“What  _ is  _ that?” Ariadne asked in answer, frowning wildly as they stepped into the middle of the street. “Agh- it’s like- I I kn- I know there’s magic  _ there _ but I can’t… I just can’t…” she spluttered, before Moody gave her a piercing look and shuffled through his pockets for a piece of card that he handed to her. Seeing her confused expression at the blank blue panel, Moody tapped his staff against the ground with a spark of blue magic, and words appeared on the card.

> _ The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place _ .

There it was. Blue and red magic bubbled over the three-story terraced house directly ahead of them as she jumped, her headache immediately ceasing. Ariadne blinked, tilting her head as her brain began shuffling through the possibilities.

“What is it, Ariadne?” Hermione asked curiously, holding Crookshanks on her shoulder as Moody tilted away from the cat.

“Is… is that a Fidelius Charm?” Ariadne muttered in awe, pointing at the house with her brow still furrowed.

“Wondered how it’d work on you. Here, give that a gander,” Moody mused, taking the card back and giving it to Hermione, who frowned. In quick succession, the Fidelius Charm was lifted for the Grangers, who gasped.

“How- how does that work?” Dennis exclaimed. “The house wasn’t invisible, it wasn’t like there was a gap,” he said as Moody led them up the steps.

“Magically enforced secret, it’s called a Fidelius Charm,” Hermione replied. “Only a Secret Keeper can convey it, if you cast it on a location nobody will ever know it’s there unless you tell them. You couldn’t torture this address out of someone who knew either, you couldn’t use Veritaserum, nothing. It’s impossible to coerce a Secret Keeper. It’s complicated magic, but…” she explained quickly.  _ If you can trust the Secret Keeper _ , Ariadne thought.

“Pff, they’ve got a Batcave,” Dennis snorted.

“Phoenixcave,” Valerie corrected him with a laugh as the door opened and Ariadne curiously stepped into Sirius’ house. She was greeted by a long corridor that smelled of dust, its wallpaper frayed and pulled, with flickering green magic marking the torn paintings that lined it. Cobwebs clung to a spherical object that sat mounted high up on the wall, as Ariadne realized just how high up the ceiling was in the hallway. Hermione let Crookshanks down curiously as she peered about, the cat immediately beginning to investigate the house, and Ariadne frowned at the voices she could hear as Moody led them down the corridor. Moody opened the door at its end in the little lobby space where another door and a tall skinny staircase stood on either side of it.

“Fudge is a politician more than he is a wizard, he’d ignore it,” she heard Remus say as Moody opened the door and the magical cores of Sirius, Remus and an unknown wizard sitting at a table peeked out before that of Professor McGonagall shuffled over behind Sirius. 

“Shh! Keep your voices down!” Molly called from somewhere to the right, as Moody turned to the Grangers.

“Dennis, Valerie, in here,” he growled, ushering the parents into the room.

“He’s getting stronger and stronger by the minute, we have to act  _ now! _ ” Sirius exclaimed, glancing up to see Ariadne before Arthur hurriedly stepped out from behind her and closed the door after her parents.

“Dinner’ll have to wait until after the meeting’s finished, I’m afraid,” Arthur told them warmly, stepping away from the door where the muffled voices quietened as, presumably, the Order greeted the Grangers. “All right you two, straight upstairs, first door on the left,” he told them, gently guiding Ariadne toward the staircase. Wordlessly, Ariadne made her way up, bobbing from side to side to check the perspectives of the stairs, just as skinny to navigate as the hallway had been, if not slimmer, taking note of the domed pillars in alcoves at the first landing as she listened to the unfamiliar sounds of the ageing house. Again, Ariadne found herself frowning at voices, as Arthur re-entered the meeting room and closed the door behind him, but the voices she heard were far from favourable and belonged to someone above them as they stepped up the stairs.

“Mudbloods, werewolves, traitors, thieves. If my poor mistress knew the scum they let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher?” a gravelly voice grumbled, knocking about as Ariadne reached the second landing. “Oh the shame.” Hermione’s mouth fell open as Ariadne’s frown became one of horror as her glasses pulsed out to reveal a short form, with long droopy ears, a long nose and long, wiry arms, dressed in what could barely be described as clothing as the individual did something in a cupboard alongside the peeking out magic of a painting.

An elf.

“Er… hello?” Hermione said nervously as the elf turned to see them, closing the door of the cupboard. “I’m Hermione, this is Ariadne…” she added, pointing to her sister as the elf dragged a small box along. His expression went tight, almost a glare. “Are... if you don’t mind me asking, are you bound to Sirius?” she asked, concern filling her voice as she nodded to the slapped-together cloth that hung from the elf’s form.

“Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black… whomever its master may be, Mudblood,” Kreacher replied disdainfully, making Hermione draw back.

“Unlike  _ some _ , Kreacher knows his place!” a shrill voice cried, making Ariadne jump before she realized it had been the partially hidden painting.

“ _ Knows his place?! _ ” Hermione exclaimed indignantly. “He’s an elf, not a slave!” she added, as Ariadne shrunk back from the conflict toward the railing.

“Mudbloods and freaks,” Kreacher grumbled. “There there Mistress, Kreacher is here,” he crooned, stepping up onto the box he’d deposited on the floor before the painting to begin wiping its frame.

“Don’t bother,” Ariadne heard Ginny call from upstairs, her footsteps clamoring down. “We tried talking to him, he didn’t even want to give Ron the time of day,” she added, coming around the bend.

“Scum of the earth, in  _ my  _ house! Not like it was in the days of my fathers,” the painting spat from behind the cloth.

“Oh shut up Walburga, or Sirius really will throw you out,” Ginny snarled. “Sticking charm’s only to the wall, can always saw that section out if we really want to. Or we could just set you on fire.” With that, the painting fell silent as Kreacher shot a glare at Ginny. “C’mon, our room’s up here,” she said, beckoning the Grangers up. All too happy to leave the tense situation behind, Ariadne quickly followed Ginny up the stairs as Hermione lingered for a moment, before leaving the elf to his business.

“I didn’t know Sirius had an elf bound to him,” Hermione called in concern as Ginny reached the next landing, stepping to a door.

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem to like Kreacher much, and so Kreacher doesn’t like him or us,” Ginny replied. “Keeps calling  _ us _ blood traitors. C’mere ‘Adne,” she said, holding out her arms for Ariadne, who wordlessly accepted the hug. “Feeling okay?”

“M alright,” Ariadne mumbled, to an endearing if concerned look from Ginny, who ruffled her hair and led her into the room, within which a number of nick-nacks and bits and bobs sat on dressers, surrounding three beds which were squeezed into the space.

“Mum  _ strictly _ forbids us from sleeping in the same one,” Ginny chuckled, patting Ariadne on the shoulder and making her blush. “I think she’s using ‘Mione as insurance. I’m on the end there, d’you wanna take the middle one and Hermione if you’d like to take this one?” she asked, patting the posts of the bed closest to the door. Hermione nodded, before touching the blanket and immediately retracting her hand in revulsion, rubbing her fingers anxiously. Evidently,  _ not _ a texture she appreciated, as she hurriedly flung the blanket off the bed and into the corner in a heap before pulling her own thick weighted one from her bag. “Won’t you be hot, Hermione?”

“Need the weight,” Hermione replied simply, sitting on the bed as Ariadne took off her bag and deposited it on the middle bed, standing beside Ginny between Hermione’s and her own. “I can’t sleep without it. Besides, that one feels horrible,” she added, pointing to the pile in the corner.

“Fair enough,” Ginny said, as the lycanthropic core of one Ronald Weasley preceded his mop of long, messy hair being pulsed into view by her glasses as he leaned in the doorway.

“Hermione!” he exclaimed, starting forward before Hermione held her arms in front of herself. “Oh, not in a hugging mood?” Hermione shook her head apologetically. “No problem,” he said, smiling at her. “It’s good to see you, ‘Mione. McGonagall brought me this to give a read, heh,” he added, holding up a book. Hermione snorted. It must have been one of the same books they’d been reading together only a few days before. Ron cracked his neck, groaning at it as he swung over to give Ariadne a hug. “Hey there ‘Adne.”

“Hey Ron,” Ariadne said. “How’re you doing?”

“All right. Moon’s in a week so I’m all creaky though,” he replied jovially, demonstrably cracking his knuckles. “Oof. Oh come on,” he grumbled, trying to crack his neck, clearly having developed a crick he couldn’t get to.  _ Click _ . “Aha!” Ginny chuckled.

“The way he’s been going on, you’d think Mum was starving him,” she said snidely as Ron’s stomach grumbled.

“I’m hungry!” Ron protested.

“Don’t pretend Kreacher didn’t find you rifling through the pantry last night. Sirius had to put a padlock on it!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Blimey, he didn’t did he?” Ron spluttered, before right behind Ariadne, there was a flash of magic and a warbling BANG!

Ariadne shrieked and flung herself across Hermione’s bed in a panic as something touched her shoulder, the blur of light behind her sending her heart into her throat, hammering like wild as she fumbled for her wand, tumbling backward onto the carpeted wooden floor as every bone in her body screamed that she was under attack. She had to get out, she had to defend herself.

“Ariadne!” Ginny exclaimed as Ariadne leapt to her feet, panting and shaking as she flung her wand out of her sleeve and toward the yellow and blue magic that had appeared out of nowhere right behind her.

Yellow and blue magic, idly spinning clockwise and counterclockwise respectively.

Fred and George’s suddenly frightened faces met her mind as she realized who she had at shaky wand-point, shuddering as she struggled to wrestle her breathing back into order as the tightness in her chest gave way to weakness, the adrenaline that had flooded her mind dissipating as quickly as it had appeared as Ginny’s arms found their way around her. Fred and George had Apparated into the bedroom, and had been standing right behind her before she’d fled.

“Shhh, it’s okay, you’re safe, it’s fine,” Ginny whispered, rubbing her arm as she jerkily tried to calm herself down, still holding her wand tightly even as Hermione and Ron looked on in horror and she leaned into Ginny. Seemingly somewhat satisfied Ariadne would be okay, Ginny turned to the twins. “The fuck is wrong with you two?! Apparating behind her,  _ honestly _ !” she half-yelled at them, pointing emphatically as they shuffled on their feet.

“Sorry Ariadne,” they both mumbled sheepishly.

“It’s a good job she didn’t blow your bloody heads off, scaring her like that.” Ron added indignantly. “You okay, ‘Adne?” he asked. Ariadne nodded, shakily sliding her wand back into her sleeve where it was tethered. Ginny frowned at that, gently, taking her arm and looking at the makeshift wand-hold Ariadne had made from her bracelet as Hermione looped an arm around her comfortingly.

“What do you want?” Ginny asked reproachfully, giving them a stern look.

“Ah!” George sighed. “We thought our stakeholder here might like a little product demo,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“D’ya wanna hear something a little more interesting?” Fred asked, raising his eyebrows as he pulled something yellow and green out of his pocket with a smirk.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we begin to get into the meat of Order of the Phoenix!


	153. The Order of the Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne listens in on the meeting of the Order, and joins them at dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having an interesting time with these opening movie scenes, because they’re becoming more and more detached from the canon movies.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

“Should… should we really be doing this?” Ariadne asked hesitantly, her heart still a little jittery from the fright she’d sustained at the hands of the twins’ Apparation, as she internally eyed the entirely too lifelike green and yellow ear that was dangling from a string in Fred’s hand. Hermione nodded, frowning as she agreed.

“Consider it a product test, nothing more, our fetching young stakeholder,” George whispered dramatically while Fred gathered Ginny and Ron over around the nook of the staircase as he held the ear out and let it slowly fall into the lobby with a grin. Ariadne grimaced and relented, lending the ear her ears. Why _both_ ends of the string were ears was beyond her, as everyone save Ron leaned in.

 _“If anyone has a right to know, it’s Ariadne,”_ Sirius’ voice said matter-of-factly through their end. _“If it wasn’t for Ariadne, we wouldn’t even know Voldemort was back. She’s not a child, Val.”_

 _“She’s not an adult either!”_ Molly exclaimed indignantly, as Fred adjusted the ear in his hand. _“She’s not Lily, Sirius.”_

 _“Well, she’s not your daughter,”_ Sirius replied.

 _“Well she_ is _ours, and we’re not having you lot pull her into your goddamn war!”_ Dennis retorted.

 _“You two asked me to talk to her, I did. The girl feels like she’s useless! Throw her a bloody bone at least,”_ Sirius exclaimed. _“The more information she has, the safer she’ll feel. It doesn’t have to be tactically useful information,”_ he told them, as Crookshanks flitted down the stairs, seemingly still exploring the house.

 _“How touchingly paternal, Black, perhaps Granger will grow up to be a felon just like her godfather,”_ the voice of one Severus Snape grated out of the ear.

“Snape’s part of the Order?” Ariadne hissed, frowning. Snape was a Death Eater, wasn’t he? Her question was answered by an irritated growl from Ron, his nostrils curling as he listened.

 _“Stay out of this, Snivellus. I don’t care what Dumbledore says about your supposed reformation, I know better,”_ Sirius snarled.

 _“So why don’t you tell him?”_ Snape sneered.

 _“Look, whatever schoolyard bullshit you two have got going on should have been left at the door,”_ Valerie growled, prompting Ginny to suppress laughter. _“So stop calling each other juvenile names and act like adults.”_

“Oh my god your mum just told off Snape,” Ginny chuckled as Ron and the twins stifled a laugh and Hermione gasped. It was not, however, their mother’s actions she was gasping at, as she and Ron reared back from a shrill whining noise the ear started producing, as, below, Crookshanks had decided the extendable ear was his latest toy and was pulling on it with his teeth. George jumped and started tugging on the ear, as Ron started laughing and Hermione started tapping the railing.

“Get off it!” Fred hissed, trying to help George pull it up. Now, Ariadne may not have been the source of Crookshanks’ entertainment very often, but she was fairly certain that producing a bobbing, resisting movement would only spur the cat on. “Get it up!” he mumbled urgently, as Hermione leant over.

“Crookshanks! Stop it!” Hermione whispered urgently, batting at the railing as Crookshanks’ insistent meowing and gravelly playfulness sounded through the ear in response.

“Get off it you bloody cat!” George hissed, still tugging on it.

“Crookshanks! Leave it alone!”

 _Pop-plunk_.

Crookshanks had finally defeated the terrible terror that was the extendable ear, as he triumphantly detached it from its cord and vanished off into a hallway. The end they were all standing around fell silent immediately, and Ron stopped grimacing from the noises it had been producing.

“Hermione, I hate your cat,” Fred said disdainfully as George began reluctantly reeling the string back in. Ariadne sniffed in barely recognized amusement.

“Bad Crookshanks!” Hermione hissed as Ron laughed and Ariadne leaned over to the twins. “Probably knew we were eavesdropping.”

“Product requires expedient reel-in functionality,” she whispered to a snort from Ginny, while Ron frowned, coming around the stairwell to examine the floor intensely.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“Seeing if there’s somewhere right above ‘em I can just stick my ear to the floor,” Ron mumbled sheepishly, dropping to his knees in the hallway. “Ugh, it’s all dusty,” he grumbled, wiping his hands on the carpet before he rested his ear onto the floor.

“Can you hear them?” Ginny asked urgently, before immediately being shushed by Ron.

“Viktor and Fleur are here…” Ron murmured, frowning. “Bah, they’re leaving. I think they’re finishing up,” he grumbled, jumping at the cracking noises of several disapparations through the floorboards as somewhere to the rear of the building, a door opened and closed again.

“Go, go, go!” George hissed, ushering Ginny back toward the stairs and grabbing Hermione by the sleeve to tug her toward the stairs as well. Ariadne hurriedly moved to follow, before they heard the sound of the downstairs door opening.

“Kids!” Molly called up through the house as they all froze. “Down you come, dinner’s almost ready!”

“Coming, Mum!” Ginny called, ushering along Ariadne as they began filtering down the narrow staircases.

“Well. We’ll be eating down in the kitchen,” Molly again called as Ginny and Ariadne arrived at the downstairs landing where she was standing with a warm expression and her hands on her hips. 

CR-POP!

Ariadne hissed in a breath as she leapt back from the familiar - but no less frightening - appearance of Fred and George directly behind their mother, flinging her hands up in front of her as both Molly and Ginny exploded angrily.

“OH! JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN USE MAGIC NOW DOES _NOT_ MEAN YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERYTHING!” Molly yelled.

“ _STOP FUCKING APPARATING INSIDE, CAN’T YOU SEE IT’S BOTHERING HER?!_ ” Ginny screamed, making the twins freeze in their joking playfulness about their mother, Fred halfway through the doorway as Ariadne stood, trembling as she pushed back against the shock of sickening adrenaline that had shot through her arms and spine. Curious of what the commotion was, Arthur peered through the door as Ron and Hermione followed down the stairs.

“ _Language_ , Ginny!” Molly exclaimed indignantly. “Cut it out, you two! Ariadne’s got enough on her nerves already without you two ripping a hole in the world just to come down to the kitchen!” she half-yelled as Ariadne frowned, a realization dropping like a boulder into the lake that was her mind as Hermione quickly came over and put a hand on her back.

“A-a-are-are there-are there nnn-no an-ann-an-anti apparation wards here?” she asked worriedly as Arthur stepped to stand where Molly had before she’d quickly come over to Ariadne.

“What’s that dear?” Molly asked.

“She said there’s no anti-apparation wards on the house, Mum,” Ron told her, licking his lip anxiously.

“Good spotting, Granger,” Alastor grumbled from across the meeting room. “Sirius. We need to get that done.”

“Oh, after dinner, I’m famished,” Sirius said dismissively as he stepped out into the doorway behind Molly and Arthur.

“You all right, Ariadne? That gave you quite a turn,” Arthur asked cautiously.

“It was worse when they _apparated behind her IN OUR ROOM!_ ” Ginny told him, before yelling the rest into the kitchen pointedly. “Don’t scare my girlfriend again, you dickheads!”

“Ha! She’s a fierce one you’ve got! C’mere you,” Sirius said, grinning as Arthur and Molly parted to let Ariadne eagerly hug him, still shaking a little as he patted her on the back reassuringly, even as she noted Remus smiling warmly at her from behind him.

“When’d _you_ get a girlfriend?” an unfamiliar voice asked from the kitchen’s side door, where Ginny had one foot in and one foot out. It was only a few seconds before, after Sirius had released her, a tall figure with golden and red magic with flecks of blue stepped out to see her. “Wait, is your girlfriend Ariadne Granger?!”

“Isn’t she cute?” Ginny said snidely, beaming at Ariadne, before making her blush by feigning a kiss.

“Cute as a button. Bill Weasley, pleasure to meet you, Granger,” Bill said warmly, stepping over and offering a hand.

“Bill!” Ron exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were ‘ere!” he half yelled, almost running over in his eagerness to hug his brother, even preventing him from shaking Ariadne’s hand.

“Woah! Hey there Ron! When’d he become such a cuddlebug?” Bill chuckled as he lifted Ron off the ground for a second.

“May of last year,” Hermione chuckled under her breath, making Remus grimace as Ron burst out laughing.

“Oh shut up, Hermione,” Ron cackled.

“What’s so funny?” Bill asked, smiling curiously as he looked about them.

“You had to be there. Sorry, I’m getting in the way aren’t I?” Ron replied, before shuffling off. Bill, however, caught his arm.

“Woah, where’d you get that?” he asked, pointing at what had to have been the scar across Ron’s face. “Looks kinda wicked on you.”

“Oh, it’s not even cool,” Ron replied sheepishly. “Tripped over a chair leg.” Bill snorted at that, half chuckling for a moment.

“I mean, this is a good look though! The scar, the sorta ponytail, it suits you man!” Bill said as Ron started off, pointing generally at him. “Be there in a sec. Where was I? Nice to meet you, Ariadne,” he added, turning back to her and once again offering his hand.

“A-and you,” Ariadne stammered, taking his hand and forcing a smile even as she tried to convince herself that nobody who couldn’t be trusted would be able to Apparate into the house thanks to the Fidelius charm. Well, she wasn’t sure if Snape could be trusted, to be fair, which only poked more holes in her waning feeling of safety that was starting to resemble swiss cheese as they made their way through the short hallway to the kitchen.

“Oh! Ariadne!” Sirius piped up as they stepped into the kitchen, where Ariadne was surprised to encounter an individual, a ways taller than her, whose hair was glowing yellow. “Say hello to Dora, your cousin through me if you care to consider that valid.”

“Don’t call me Dora!” the woman exclaimed even as she stepped over to greet her. “Merlin Sirius, you make me sound like a twelve year old!”

“I thought you preferred it to Nymphadora!” Sirius protested as Ron shuffled over to sit between Remus and Bill.

“Tonks will do. I’ve heard a lot about you, Ariadne, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Tonks said with a smile. “I don’t mind adding another cousin, I’ve got heaps. Half of them are married to each other though, these pureblood families are like Hapsburgs!” _That_ broke Ariadne’s apprehensive shuffling as a burst of air escaped her mouth in mirth, Hermione bursting out laughing across the table beside the twins as Kingsley Shacklebolt sat down.

“You too, Tonks,” she eventually said, recovering from her giggles as Hermione explained who the Hapsburgs were to Ron across Bill. “Your hair’s all yellow?” she added, with a curious look.

“Bloody hell, I’m a blonde to her!” Tonks exclaimed. “It’s actually purple, but I _can_ make it yellow,” she said, shaking it about as the magic fluctuated and Hermione gasped. To Ariadne’s surprise, it had also grown longer and gained a little volume

“You’re a metamorphmagus!” Hermione said, as Tonks sat down opposite her.

“Bingo! Comes in handy as an Auror,” Tonks said, pointing to Hermione.

“That’s not a bad look on you, Tonks,” Sirius said.

“Yeah well, it’s not my style,” Tonks replied, flicking her hair back with another bubble of magic making it recede back to the length it had started as. “That’s not all I can do,” she said mischievously, before wiggling her nose into the shape of a pig’s snout with a glow of further yellow magic. A moment later, as Ginny started giggling, her nose and mouth morphed into a duck’s beak as Ariadne sat down near Sirius and opposite Remus, noting a void-like surface within her glass.

“Kingsley. Best show her, she’ll find out soon enough,” Moody said abruptly to the wizard beside her, standing in the corner pensively.

“Only reason you didn’t know already is ‘cos we don’t get the _Prophet_ anymore,” Dennis said from opposite Kingsley as Shacklebolt flipped out what sounded like a newspaper, handing its blank green-marked surface to her. “Oh, can you not see the headline? It’s animated,” he asked, noting her curious frown roving about the table. She shook her head.

“The headline is _The Girl Who Lies_ ,” Remus said sadly. Ariadne couldn’t say she was surprised. The press had long since turned against her, she was more surprised it had taken Voldemort’s return for them finally start calling her a liar.

“He’s been attacking Dumbledore as well,” Sirius added. “Fudge is using all of his power, including his influence at the _Daily Prophet_ to smear anyone who claims the Dark Lord has returned.”

“Whi-bu-I- I gave him the memory?” Ariadne mumbled with a horrified frown.

“The Minister’s dismissing it as a fabrication,” Remus sighed. “He thinks Dumbledore’s after his job,” he said, shaking his head glumly.

“Wh-.. what?!” Ariadne hissed. “Wh-why-why-why-why-why would he-”

“Fear,” Remus replied. “Him and those like him are terrified of change, of losing their positions. Now, fear makes people do terrible things, Ariadne, the last time Voldemort-” Ariadne flinched ever so slightly. “-gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear. Now he’s returned, I’m afraid the Minister will do almost anything to avoid facing that terrifying truth.”

“We think Voldemort wants to build up his army again,” Sirius told her, watching her curiously as she twitched at the name and she put the paper down. 

“Th… tha-that-that-that-that makes sense,” Ariadne mumbled.

“Fourteen years ago, he had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all manner of creatures.” An air of tangible tension had filled the room, as Molly stopped cutting up whatever vegetable Ariadne couldn’t identify and her parents gave a steely, stern look toward Sirius. “He’s been recruiting heavily, and we’ve been attempting to do the same, but gathering followers isn’t the only thing he’s interested in.” Moody, standing behind Sirius, cleared his throat pointedly. “We believe Voldemort may be after something.”

“Sirius,” Moody grumbled.

“Something he didn’t have last time,” Sirius said, as Ariadne frowned. Clearly, Sirius was skirting around whatever they’d been debating telling her.

“What… what didn’t he have last time?” Ariadne muttered, as Valerie leaned forward.

“That’s quite enough, Sirius,” she barked. “What did I say about dragging my children into your godforsaken war?!”

“You tell her much more and you might as well induct her into your little bloody Order!” Dennis exclaimed, as Hermione drew back and started tangling her hands anxiously. “I’m perfectly happy to come here and discuss things, but she is _not_ getting involved! She’s fifteen for pete’s sake!”

“You two…” Sirius grumbled. “Like it or not, Ariadne is a target. You’re _all_ targets, all four of you! Voldemort knows that he can get to her through you two or Hermione. It’s a good thing she and Ginny haven’t been more public, else he’d be going after the Weasleys even more!” Ariadne shrunk back into her seat, bottom lip wobbling even as her mind raced, a shock going through her as he mentioned her relationship with Ginny.

“She is not fighting in any fucking war!” Valerie yelled. “Not if I have anything to say about it!”

“We’re not the ones dragging you into it!” Sirius exclaimed. “Voldemort has _already_ dragged you into it, we don’t get to change that! We’ve already spotted Dementors in Surrey, he knows how vulnerable she is to them and is trying to get to her!”

“I hate to say it, but I have to agree with Sirius,” Remus grumbled. “Your family is a part of this, Valerie, whether any of us like it or not. What’s done is done, all we can do is move forward.”

“Would… would it keep me safe?” Ariadne asked hurriedly, the room going silent as everyone snapped to look directly at her - Ron literally so, as his neck cracked loudly.

“Ariadne, no. You’re not joining the Order,” Dennis said.

“Compromise,” Moody called harshly, getting everyone’s attention. “ _IF_ the Grangers are to join the Order, the girls are to be _strictly_ noncombatant members,” he growled. “Her magic sense can be an invaluable resource at times, as I well know, but under no circumstances are they to fight. They’d be given any information they need, and it makes it easier for us to keep you lot safe if you’re in the loop. Ginevra and Ronald too.”

“Wha-” Ron spluttered, looking up suddenly.

“No! They’re just children!” Molly exclaimed indignantly. “It’s bad enough we’re even _considering_ letting the girls join, let alone them!”

“They’re both close to Ariadne,” Moody explained. “He _will_ try to get to her through them. All of them strictly noncombatants, we can revisit that question when they’re of age.”

“I’m… I’m good with that,” Ron said hesitantly, clearing his throat.

“Same,” Ginny added, nodding.

“Well I’m not!” Molly told them. “You’re far too young for this!”

“If he’s gonna try kill her, I want to get in his way!” Ron exclaimed belligerently, to a concerned look from Remus as he pointed at Ariadne. Ginny, meanwhile, nodded emphatically.

“What part of _noncombatant_ did you not understand, Ronald?” Remus grumbled, at which Ron made a face.

“I suppose you’re okay with this insanity?!” Molly exclaimed, looking to Arthur.

“I’m on the fence, love,” Arthur replied, his voice dripping with uncertainty. “Both have their pros and cons,” he added, looking piercingly between Ariadne, who was increasingly trying to be absorbed by the wooden chair at the conflict she’d inadvertently created, her parents and his own youngest children. “Let’s… table this, until everyone’s had a chance to think it through, okay?” Despite the evident ceasefire over the clearly divisive topic, it seemed Dennis and Valerie were still quietly discussing it between themselves and the cloud of tension remained over the table as Molly passed everyone food and Ariadne’s confused ponderings were interrupted by Ginny trying to make small talk as they ate.

“So, you two are..?” Ginny mused with a mischievous smile, taking a sip of what, if their beverages were the same, was probably orange juice as she pointed to Sirius and Remus. Remus looked down at his plate bashfully as Sirius reached over past Arthur to rub his shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah, we are,” Sirius replied, smiling at Remus, who looked up at him warmly before kissing the hand that rested on his shoulder. “Tonks and I have been bullying him into taking better care of himself,” he chuckled, taking out his wand as Remus ate. “Look, reflective eyes again,” he said, lifting a _lumos_ to Remus’ face, before Remus squeezed his eyes shut and reeled back, his exaggerated motion gladly distracting from Ron looking away as Remus batted Sirius’ wand down.

“Oh, stop that Pads,” Remus grumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Oh, good! Good for you,” Valerie said, smiling at him. “Hey um… I’m sorry to bring this back up, but Dennie and I have come to a decision,” she announced seriously. Hermione stopped eating, as Ariadne faced up. She hadn’t expected them to bring it up again. “Hermione, Ariadne. As long as the conditions Alastor laid out are adhered to, as long as you are kept away from any fighting and we are asked first before you’re taken on any missions or what not, we are… willing, but not happy, to allow it to be your decision. Under those conditions, you may join this Order thing if it would make you feel safer.”

“You don’t have to come to a decision tonight, but talk to… whoever they have to talk to? If you decide to. And let us know,” Dennis added, his expression grim. “So, you two give that some thought.”

“Okay. We’ll think about it, Dad,” Hermione said, grimacing.

“All right. If you decide to, come up with codenames, you two,” Arthur told them, his expression haggard. “Tell me what it is, and I’ll keep you informed. Just in case owls get intercepted, that sort of thing,” he said. Ariadne nodded, awkwardly stewing in the renewed attention as her mind roved through the new information. She was definitely going to join them, that much she was unerringly certain of, but what her codename should be was certainly something to think about.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods I enjoyed some of the changes to that scene. This story is going more and more off the rails and it’s so much fun to see how.


	154. Safe House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arrangements are made to outfit the Grangers’ house with magical defences, and several letters arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the old faithful hyperfixation starts coming back! Now we’re getting back into the flow of the story rather than time padding, brain’s getting back into gear.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

Ariadne grumbled lightly as she rolled over on her pillow, lying on her side to face Hermione, who lightly snored. It wasn’t that she couldn’t fall asleep in the old, creaky, dusty house, the problem was she could not remain so. It had been at least the seventh time she’d jumped awake, met only by the flushing of a toilet or someone moving around upstairs, or simply the wind and the trees of the park across the road, or perhaps an irritatingly loud car. Seven blobs of green magic hovered around her sister, chilling charms placed by Molly to accommodate her need for both cool air  _ and _ the heavy blanket, while Ginny lay only partially covered by her own blanket with her gently pulsing magical core among the only things marking the darkness around Ariadne.

At least the day before, after she and Hermione had resolved to join the Order with the codenames Lightning and Helen respectively, Sirius had assured her that the house had been bestowed with anti-apparation wards before he’d asked the twins to demonstrate, setting them clutching at their stomachs nauseously at the apparently rough process of attempting to get through the ward. That much, at least, she was glad of, and it had helped her feel a little safer.

Her restless paranoia, however, was not all that was keeping her up. She’d had strange dreams, imagery that eluded her upon her return to the waking world. Returns. Some sort of geometric pattern had lingered with her, but what shape it was had long vacated her waking mind, and at least she hadn’t dreamt of the graveyard again. That morning, however, what woke her as she noticed subtle birdsong outside, was not her dreams, but a voice, accompanied by footsteps down the nearby stairs as a door closed. That of Remus Lupin.

“Oh, good morning Ronald. It’s a bit early, isn’t it?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ron’s voice replied quietly, yawning. “You know how it is.”

“Hmph.” It couldn’t have been  _ that _ early, birds were chirruping outside. Ariadne frowned, and grabbed the gently glowing watch off her side table. Running a finger across its face revealed it to be just past six in the morning. Perhaps it wasn’t worth trying to go back to sleep.

“What?” Ron grumbled. “You’re giving me a look, what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Lupin said. “Ugh, fine.” Something creaked outside, likely a baluster, as Ariadne sat up. “It’s been a little while. You’ve changed. A lot. You even move differently. I don’t know.”

“Great change, huh?” Ron mused. “Divination, that popped up in my cup before that day,” he explained. “It’s fine. It’s actually kinda wicked, you know?”

“No, I don’t.” Ariadne frowned, pulling her glowing glasses on and flipping her hair out from under the chain before she tapped it with her wand, an immediate blue pulse revealing the room around her, as well as the bundle that was a cozy Hermione and Ginny’s messy sprawl, half covered in blanket with a sliver of her tummy showing under her partially upturned pajama shirt. Ariadne was glad her sister and her girlfriend both had some semblance of peace, so she elected not to wake them as she smiled gently at Ginny’s serene messiness. Ron and Remus, however, did not seem to have much in the way of peace as it seemed Remus’ voice had taken on a slightly argumentative tone. “It’s a curse, Ron, it’s not cool or whatever. And it’s my fault.”

“I mean… I’m fine with it,” Ron said. “It hurts but… I mean, I’ve got potions, it’s all good for me. Can smell things, hear things. It’s neat. And it’s not your-”

“ _ Neat _ ?! How can that be neat? Isn’t that a constant reminder?” Remus hissed. “Ever since Sirius has been… I can smell everything again, I hate it.”

“‘Mione can hear lightbulbs too,” Ron said dismissively. “It’s not that weird, I’m used to it. Sirius is right, you know, you gotta take better care of yourself, especially ‘cos you don’t need to hide it anymore,” he told him. “Mooney still got those creepy bloody thumbs?” It was at that moment the door creaked open at Ariadne’s hand and she stepped out, rubbing her eyes of sleep under her glasses, making both werewolves jump. “Ariadne.”

“Morning,” Ariadne grumbled blearily, still holding her wand idly as she stepped out in her too-big pajama trousers and singlet.

“We didn’t wake you, did we, Ariadne?” Lupin, who was leaning on the staircase railing, asked gently as Ariadne pulled the door closed again.

“It’s all right,” she mumbled. “Can’t sleep either.”

“Wanna come have breakfast?” Ron asked, to an immediate frown from Remus. “I’m starving.”

“Your mother’s not even awake yet,” Remus said.

“You’re not Traced, you could…  _ alohomora _ that padlock on the pantry,” Ron hissed to Remus, a mischievous smile on his face. “You  _ did _ say we were the New Marauders.”

“How  _ dare _ you successfully appeal to my troublemaking nature?” Remus spat humorously, before swiping his wand out of the pocket of his own baggy pajamas. “Come along, Red, Whites,” he said, smiling and swinging down the stairs with the pair in tow. “How… how do you even manage to hide what you are?” Remus asked Ron, frowning as he turned to look at him. “You’re still a healthy boy and it’s like you’re doing nothing to hide it, you’ve got a big damn scar across your face, and no offense but you look pale, how-?”

“Glamours and sensory jinxes,” Ron replied matter-of-factly. “‘Mione taught me some. Can’t do ‘em here, but…”

“I… I didn’t even think of that,” Remus spluttered, as if questioning his entire existence. “Makeup spells. So obvious, I just… well, you’ve seen Mooney. Vestigial thumbs and all.”

“You hid it by hurting yourself,” Ron said glumly. “Hiding from yourself, not just them.”

“No, I… well. I suppose, looking back, that is true. Hiding from yourself...” Remus sighed, stopping in the silent lobby of the house. “You’re right,” he said, his mouth open slightly in thought. “Might be a privileged pup, never been feral a night in your life, but you’re right. I did that to myself, because I hated… I wasn’t just hiding from everyone else, I was hiding from myself. Merlin… I… I lost… I lost my entire childhood to my own self-hatred, didn’t I?” he spluttered, his expression darkening in a sort of lamentous desperation as he tore his whole life apart in his own mind. “I… I’m sorry, I’m tired, thats.. That’s a lot to drop on you, I’m sorry. Pantry foolishness, come on,” he muttered, slipping into the kitchen hallway with a squinting shake of his head. “All right…” he murmured, leading the pair to the back of the kitchen, where Ariadne allowed herself the tiniest smirk at the immediate problem she could sense in their plan. “ _ Alohomora _ ,” Remus whispered, the green wave dissipating off the blue slab that was the padlock.

“W-w-w-wa-war-warded,” Ariadne whispered, to a tiny growl from Remus, at which Ron smiled. Leaning back, clearly thinking with a gently gleeful smile on his face, Remus put his wand away.

“Sirius has a Muggle lockpicking kit…” he murmured. “Give me a minute.”

\--

Molly had been entirely unsurprised to find the three of them surrounding one Sirius Black attempting to pick her lock when she came downstairs, however Ron had somehow convinced her not to leave them nothing but toast for breakfast as they sat around the table, happily eating pancakes and bacon with apple juice. Bill had had to leave early to go to work, but he’d been given a warm goodbye from those who were awake, and Ron had lamented his departure.

“We’ll start with the basics,” Remus told Valerie and Dennis. “First, we’ll ward the locks-” Sirius snorted. “Pff. First, we’ll ward the locks, put up intruder charms, that sort of thing. Now, we’ll also have to permanently disconnect the house from the Floo network, that’s a hole and someone crafty enough can circumvent the password,” he added.

“Oh, that’s annoying,” Dennis grumbled. “That came in handy.”

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “I’ll come pick the girls up in the car if they’d like to stay at ours?”

“Sounds good,” Valerie replied, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Is this all being done with the Burrow as well?”

“It is, and at quite a wide radius so Red’s not in any danger,” Remus replied. “Now, the more advanced defences will take some time, for example the anti-apparation wards are a little tricky and need to extend a bit out from the house. And a Fidelius charm would take a number of days, and is potentially a little more problematic for your house than here.”

“How so?” Valerie asked.

“Well, you have jobs, your employers, family friends, relatives, all know your address, etcetera,” he replied. “It’s a complicated charm, and you’ll need to identify Secret Keepers, who will end up the only people even capable of knowing your address unless you tell them. Yourselves and the girls, obviously, the Weasleys probably, Dumbledore, perhaps a few others like Pads here.” Ron and Remus jumped at a tap on the window.

“How does that work if nobody knows about this place?” Dennis asked, pointing as Molly hurriedly let in not one, but five owls with eleven envelopes between them - two each to the first four, and three by the last. The letters were suddenly deposited onto the table as Hermione ducked at the sudden arrival of the flock of birds of prey, with an odd  _ clunk _ to some. Ariadne frowned, seeing that one of the three letters was to her in magical ink, as was one of the larger clump.

“Hogwarts letters,” Sirius replied, smiling as he peered at the oddly bulky letters Hermione and Ron had received - Ron, it seemed had received two, but only one of them was thicker than the rest. “Dumbledore’s a Secret Keeper for here, so they come through, and I think  _ that _ one got routed through McGonagall,” he said, pointing to the second of Ariadne’s while Molly tried to herd the chaotic owls back outside. Presuming the letter that had been with everyone else’s was her school list, she savaged the envelope of the last letter first.

> _ Ariadne _
> 
> _ Hey there Wonder. I know you’ve gone through some shit what with the Tournament and all, so I don’t know if you’ll want to, but I’m not about to lose the best Seeker Gryffindor’s ever had as soon as I actually get to be Captain without at least asking. I’m figuring out tryouts, so far I only need to replace Oliver and a few substitutes but we’ll see what the others have to say. _
> 
> _ So, to avoid being unnecessarily wordy, can you confirm if you will be staying on as Gryffindor’s Seeker? _
> 
> _ Yours, _
> 
> _ Angelina Johnson, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team _
> 
> _ (Forwarded by Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House) _

“What the-” Ron exclaimed, distracting Ariadne from her immediate yearning for the relative normalcy Quidditch would be as he dove to the floor after something that had tumbled from his envelope, Hermione gasping as she suddenly looked to her own bulky envelope. Whatever it was had hit the ground with a metallic clang, and Ron suddenly drew back up with it in his hand. A shield-shaped badge, which Ariadne recognized immediately with a thrill as she realized that not only did Ron have one, but clearly so too did Hermione. Ron immediately pulled out the letters themselves, shuffling to the second piece of parchment. “Merlin… I’m a bloody Prefect!” The entire Weasley troupe looked up in surprise as Molly gasped.

“Oh! Oh that’s wonderful Ron! Just wonderful!” Molly cried, running from where she’d finished shooing the owls away as Sirius started clapping to wrap her arms about her youngest son and shake him from side to side. “I knew you’d do well, I just knew it my boy!” she crooned, before kissing the top of his head as he sat there, almost stunned by the revelation. “That makes the whole lot of you save for Fred and George!”

“You’d think she weren’t proud of us or something,” Fred sneered.

“Oh you two are going into business already, you’ve got plenty of your own achievements, you rascals,” Molly replied warmly.

“There’s our boy!” Arthur added gladly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Better be a better example than you were this morning!”

“I was hungry!” Ron protested even as he looked down embarrassedly at the attention. “Wait, but I’m- I’m a- won’t that cause problems?”

“You won’t be the first werewolf Prefect Gryffindor’s ever had, Ron,” Remus told him, smiling welcomingly.

“You were a Prefect?”

“Indeed he was,” Sirius replied. “Best damn Prefect we’ve ever had. Night patrols? All nighters prowling around in the dark are you lot’s thing.” Remus snorted.

“ _ Out for a little walk… in the moonlight, are we? _ ” Remus chuckled, drawling in an imitation of Professor Snape. “I was Prefect, but James was Head- ah, Hermione as well!” he exclaimed, seeing Hermione, her face one of shocked awe, pull her own Prefect badge from her letter and hold it up.

“Well done Hermione!” Valerie exclaimed, leaning over to look at the badge. “Dennie, our daughter’s a role model.”

“Yeah, well done!” Ariadne added, beaming at her across the table.

“Yeah!” Ron cried, holding up a hand for a high five which Hermione immediately accepted with a resounding CLAP. “I figured it’d be one of you two, but why  _ me _ ?”

“Well, you’re clearly adaptable, obviously due to your having adapted to your lycanthropy so well, as well as helping Ariadne with the Triwizard Tournament and you did pretty well academically too,” Hermione replied. “ _ And _ , by asking to switch to Muggle Studies, you’ve proven you’re willing to put in extra work.”

“B- Wh… What about Neville?” Ron pointed out, almost laughing at the idea of himself being a model student. “Or Dean, or Seamus?”

“Neville’s forgetful, and Dean’s not got as clean a record as you,” Hermione told him, absently pinning her Prefect badge onto her shirt collar. “Although, it helps that you were Petrified for most of second year, in that regard.” Ron snorted.

“I was just glad to get outta classes until ‘Adne started forcing me to study,” Ron laughed as Ariadne faced away bashfully. “Hang on, this one’s from Dumbledore…” he murmured, frowning at the other letter before tearing it open. His frown only grew as he unfolded it, before his face fell.

“What is it?” Hermione asked worriedly, leaning forward.

“Wh… fu… bloody kidding me…” Ron murmured, the coating on his eyes flicking about as his magic flickered anxiously. “Dolores Umbridge,” he said, his voice shaky. Ariadne felt her face go shock white as Hermione jumped. “She’s… she’s taking Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” Hermione yelled, gaping at him as she almost threw herself backward in her seat. “How could Dumbledore have-”

“Wasn’t his decision, Fudge did it,” Ron told her, pointing into the letter. “Fudge issued some decree and put her on before Dumbledore could replace Moody.”

“Merlin, he didn’t did he?” Remus said, a haggard breath escaping his lips as Ron showed him the letter.

“Good news is, the Governors have mostly forgotten about me,” Ron added, examining the small piece of parchment again. “But if Umbridge finds out, she’ll make a stink and he won’t be able to stop the Governors from demanding um, my expulsion.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Molly hissed, with a concerned expression. “They can’t expel you, surely, you haven’t done anything wrong? It’s not as if you’ve bitten anyone either. And they didn’t expel Remus,” she pointed out.

“Hogwarts had different Governors back then,” Remus said. “Your status as a Prefect will hopefully sweeten the deal for them, it shows the staff trusts you, but… with people like Lucius Malfoy still holding seats, it’ll be a tight situation if you’re exposed.”

“That’s not exactly news,” Ron grumbled.

“No, but unlike other staff, Umbridge has power within the Ministry and pulls a lot of strings in werewolf legislation,” Sirius pointed out. “She’ll come crashing down on you  _ hard _ if anything happens.”

“Could we put a Fidelius charm on  _ him _ ?” Hermione asked urgently. “That way nobody  _ could _ do anything.”

“No,” Remus replied, after thinking about it for a moment. “Fidelius charms on aspects of people don’t last, it’s too abstract. You could try Fidelius-ing say… when Ariadne came out, but it wouldn’t take much for it to be broken. They work best on whole people or places.” Hermione slumped, grimacing. “It was a good thought though, Hermione.”

“You’ll just have to be careful, Ron,” Arthur said seriously. “Keep working on those glamours. Remus, any tips for him you’ve not shared?” he asked.

“Well, as we discussed earlier, most of my concealing strategies were on the self-destructive side,” Remus sighed. “Honestly, he’s doing better than I did at his age,” he added with a smile. “Obviously, make sure you’re not seen heading to the Willow-”

“I usually go with Hagrid, actually, in the forest,” Ron said, interrupting him.

“Oh, good for you. In that case, make sure you’re not seen going to Hagrid’s, or that you have an alibi,” Lupin continued. “Oh, break up the regularity of your illness. Make it seem like you’re sick when you’re not, throw them off. Don’t do anything that hurts you, but perhaps one of the Grangers knows a few jinxes that can make his voice sound hoarse and give him a cough? Make it look like he has a cold on a new moon?” he asked, turning to Hermione and Ariadne.

“Nothing comes to mind, but we’ll look into it,” Hermione replied. “And make sure to mask when he  _ is _ actually ill?”

“Of course. Don’t take Pepperup too close to the full moon, but try to avoid actually looking ill during that time. Don’t miss classes. In fact, it might be wise to just find a cozy spot in the forest and go to sleep, or use… I don’t know if it’ll still be there, but there might still be a tattered old sofa in the Shack,” Lupin said. “Regular exhaustion’s a telltale sign. Oh, and remember to use that de-fleaing spell I taught you.” Sirius snorted loudly as Ariadne frowned.

“Boys dorm had a bit of a flea problem in our first year, didn’t know why at the time,” Sirius chuckled, ruffling Remus’ shoulder. “Something you’ve got to consider as an Animagus as well, the fleas are murder. Come to think of it, how d’you handle that over the holidays?” he asked Ron, who looked at his mother awkwardly.

“I take care of it,” Molly replied, as Ginny started laughing.

“It’s kinda funny, he’s just standing there in Mum’s old dressing gown with all twigs in his hair waiting for Mum to boop his head with her wand so he can come in,” she giggled as Ron laughed self-consciously.

“Why don’t you just go get a flea treatment from a vet?” Dennis asked with a bemused expression. “Just tell them you’ve got a big Husky at home. That reminds me, we need to get Crookshanks’ done.”

“It’d be good for Red, but hazardous to Ron,” Hermione told him. “If it comes into contact with human skin, you’re supposed to wash it off thoroughly.”

“Oh, true.”

“Hmph. On a lighter note, would you like to come over to mine next week, Ron?” Remus asked. “Sirius’ll be there, I managed to finance some Wolfsbane.” Ariadne suppressed the pang of guilt that reminded her that she could very easily pay for it for him if only he’d allow it. “Nice little spot out in the forest. And yes, Mooney still has those  _ creepy bloody thumbs _ as you put it, but… but I’ll work on that,” he admitted sheepishly.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao that opening scene was mostly unplanned. Onward!


	155. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers and Weasleys make their way back to Hogwarts for the new school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s see what happens, shall we? >:)  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

Ariadne idly ran a finger along the tail of the phoenix keychain that dangled from her bag alongside Sirius’ thunderbird as she sat in the middle of the incredibly packed car, trying to figure out how much further they had until King’s Cross Station in the miniature precession that was comprised of the Grangers’ 1993 Toyota Previa in the centre, surrounded by Tonks and Moody in the heavily enchanted Mini belonging to Kingsley Shacklebolt - a Mini that, for all Ariadne knew given the rainbow of colours about it, might have been capable of siege warfare - and the Ford Anglia bringing up the rear, packed full of Weasleys. Sirius hadn’t been lying when he’d said that protecting her and her family was a priority for the Order of the Phoenix, and Ariadne had to admit she was mildly entertained by the ramshackle convoy even if the implication of their necessity was a little worrying.

Worrying had become a constant state of Ariadne’s in the past half-month since she and Hermione had joined the Order, her magic occasionally flickering ever so slightly with it. She had been allowed vague information, but according to Shacklebolt, much more was above her clearance. However, she had been given the codenames of various Order agents to contact should she have to, and she was apparently to be told of anything she would need to be. So far, all that had meant was that she knew that there was a publicity campaign against her in the Ministry thanks to Cornelius Fudge, and that there were unverified reports of Dementors in Surrey, possibly looking to attack her.

“Here we are,” Dennis announced gladly, as Ariadne felt the car turn suddenly and come to a halt before her father pulled up the handbrake.

“Right. I’ll stay with the car,” Remus said, sitting in the right backmost seat behind Sirius, the seat to his left folded down to accommodate the two large trunks that were stacked atop one another along with Ariadne’s guitar. “Do try to have a good term, you two. Focus on your classes, and your hobbies. Leave all this business to us, we will let you know if you need to be aware of anything,” he said softly, leaning over after undoing his seatbelt and patting Ariadne’s shoulder as she took her glasses from her nose to lay them atop her collarbone. “Do not let these dark events change you. Continue to be those incredibly intelligent young women brimming with potential I met in 2003. Don’t let Voldemort take that from you,” he sighed, almost turning to Ariadne, who nodded wordlessly.

“Stay safe, Mister Lupin,” Hermione replied quietly, smiling to him. 

“And you. Be careful around Hogsmeade, if you go at all. Take care of each other,” he replied. “Have a good time, Grangers.”

“All right. C’mon Crooks,” Hermione murmured as she hoisted Crookshanks’ carrier off her lap and hopped out of the car. “Hang on, I’ve just got to put you down,” she added, setting him down on the concrete to retrieve her bag from the footwell. Ariadne, meanwhile, followed from the centre of the car as Sirius also stepped out, carrying Hermes’ cage. Standing in the carpark, Ariadne unfolded her collapsible cane and snapped it together. She’d grown a bit since she’d last needed it much outside of the non-magical public, and she found as she stepped out that it was in fact too short for her after a few years of being used for Statute compliance rather than as an active disability aid. It wasn’t long before they’d fallen into the formation Moody had insisted upon - he and Tonks were to walk ahead of them, while Sirius walked with the Grangers, pushing Ariadne’s trolley as she swept the now too-short cane in front of her and the Weasleys took up the rear much like they had on the journey there, walking across King’s Cross toward the familiar magical barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Ariadne’s chest was tight as they got near, as she internally eyed every speckled grey figure that marked non-magical people, every colourful blob that denoted a witch or wizard as her magic warbled about anxiously. She could have sworn that she kept sensing flecks of flickering black and white among them, a robed figure coated in blue, but just as quickly as she thought she’d sensed it she’d realized it was nothing. A trick of the angles. Her imagination, she assured herself, but it didn’t help that it was exactly those same strange blobs within her own magic that were buzzing in worry.

“All right, I guess we’ve got to leave you now,” Dennis lamented as they reached the pillar in question before offering Ariadne a hug. Ariadne clung to her father like her life depended on it. She almost didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to leave the safety of her home and her family to once again face the castle that had put her life in danger so many times. “I’ll miss you too, princess. Hey.” Her father let her go, before looking her right in the face. “Take care of yourself, Ariadne. So much has happened, to you more than anyone else. You’re going to be okay, and we’re always here for you. Always,” he assured his tense daughter, rubbing her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Valerie added, patting Ariadne’s back as she stood, slumped forward a little. “We love you. Stay safe dear,” she told her, a worried tone filling her voice even as she too embraced Ariadne. “You’re gonna do great,” she added, smiling. “The both of you. Good luck as a Prefect, Hermione. Remembered your badge?”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione replied, holding it up from her pocket as the Weasleys trundled up.

“Good. Well, you two’d better get going, train’s leaving soon,” Valerie said, checking her watch. “Good luck to you both, we love you.”

“See you!” Hermione called as she set her trolley toward the barrier, as Sirius let Ariadne take her own.

“Keep in touch, Ariadne,” Sirius said. “Have fun.” Ariadne nodded, surreptitiously placing her cane onto the trolley.

“B-... b-bye,” Ariadne stammered, smiling artificially before she too followed Hermione through the magical barrier into the cacophony that was Platform 9 ¾, magic surrounding her as a rush of air met her ears and the hiss of the steam locomotive filled the air. Getting out of the way as quickly as she could, she pulled her glasses back up onto her face and stopped her trolley so she could fold her cane back up and put it in her bag.

Despite her small stature and deliberately unobtrusive stance, she was being watched, she knew she was.  _ The Girl Who Lies _ was what she was to them now. Children and some of their magical parents looked at her with gently disdainful expressions as they walked past, some few frowning curiously or simply glancing at her as she relinquished her trunk, Hermes, and her guitar case to the porters, gladly staying beside Ginny as they found their way aboard. She didn’t want to be visible, to be seen or to know just how deep Fudge’s campaign had run, and so she was relieved at how quickly her girlfriend had found an empty compartment for the four of them, the twins splitting off to a group of their classmates.

“Crookshanks, you’ve  _ got _ to stop being so nasty to Ron,” Hermione said as they sat down and closed the door, as the cat reared back from him in the case. “He’s perfectly harmless.”

“Yeah, promise,” Ron said with a smile. “Pig got used to it, I can’t be  _ that _ smelly,” he added with a chuckle.

“Pig’s a menace,” Ginny replied. “Even Errol hates him, and I don’t think Errol even  _ noticed _ you’re a werewolf. D’you suppose we’re allowed to use magic on the train?”

“Yeah, that’s allowed,” Ron replied, just as Hermione said effectively the same thing with a surprised look to the boy. “I’m a Prefect, we’re supposed to know-” he said, as Ginny punched the air happily and swiped her wand out.

“ _ Mimblewimble! _ ” Ginny exclaimed, jabbing the orange tongue-tying curse at Ron with an evil grin, causing the boy’s tongue to immediately cease to produce comprehensible sound and instead his sentence devolved into aimless grunting.

“Ugh…” Ron managed to intone. “HmMM-mm’mmm?” he hummed, turning to Hermione with a questioning look.

“You’re never going to stop using the puppy-dog eyes, are you?” Hermione asked with a chuckle. Ron only deflated slightly and heightened his deliberately endearing expression. “Oh all right.  _ Finite Incantatem _ ,” she said, a wave of silver magic bathing Ron’s jaw before Ron immediately pulled out his wand.

“ _ Mimblewimble! _ ” he cried, tongue-tying Ginny with his own orange flash. “Before she starts getting inventive,” he added with a snort as Ginny indignantly made an incomprehensible noise. Ariadne expressionlessly pulled out her own wand.

“ _ Finite Incantatem, _ ” she mumbled, flicking her wand at Ginny to alleviate the tongue-tying jinx.

“Thanks babe,” Ginny whispered, kissing Ariadne on the cheek. “Not very  _ prefectly _ behaviour, Ronald,” she added with a smirk.

“We’re not at school yet, I can do what I like,” Ron retorted, nudging Hermione, who smiled mischievously.

“ _ Mimblewimble! _ ” Hermione exclaimed.

\--

“God’s sake, Ron, you’re supposed to be a role model,” Hermione grumbled disdainfully as Ron reopened the door to them, the train’s brakes already starting as Ariadne leaned on the wall, Ron’s face glimmering with glamours. “Where’s your cloak?”

“It’s too bloody hot for a cloak!” Ron replied indignantly. “You know I get hot.”

“Then put a chilling charm on it,” Hermione told him shortly, straightening her own cloak. “We’re supposed to be examples, so at least look the part,” she said, as they rejoined him in the compartment.

“Oh all right,” Ron mumbled, rustling through his bag as he piled his casual clothes onto the seat beside him before pulling his cloak out. With a clatter, something else hit the floor, dislodged as the train shuddered to a halt.

“What-what’s that?” Ariadne asked curiously, as Ron leant down with a groan to pick it up.

“Flute,” Ron replied simply, before giving it a high-pitched toot. “Was full moon on Christmas so I forgot about it. Think I might give it a go,” he explained as he stood, wrapping his cloak around himself. “What was the bloody charm?  _ Alsius _ ,” he muttered, sending a golden gleam over his cloak with a shiver. “All right, let’s be off.” With that, Ginny - having remained in the hallway - led the group of four into the small crowd that had gathered around the exit.

“Maybe we should start a band,” Ginny mused. “I play the drums, ‘Adne plays the guitar, ‘Mione plays the piano and you can play the flute.”

“Oh hey Neville,” Ron called. “What’s that you’ve got there?” he asked, pointing to the bulbous cactus-like plant Neville held, shifting slightly with a blue glow.

“Hi guys,” Neville replied. “Mimbulus Mimbletonia. It produces Stinksap when threatened!”

“Nobody poke it, then,” Ginny laughed to a wry nod from Ron.

“Wait- you got Prefect?” Neville spluttered, noticing the badge that sat ever so slightly crookedly on Ron’s shirt. “That’s great! Congratulations,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks man,” Ron replied. “You’ll love the password for this term.”

“Why, what is it?” Neville asked, frowning as he carefully stepped down off the train.

“Mimbulus Mimbletonia,” Ron told him. “Seriously, no joke.”

“Oh great!” Neville exclaimed. “I’ll be able to remember this one!” he added, as Ariadne groaned at the password. “What’s wrong, Ariadne?”

“Mim-mim-mimb-b-mimb-mimbu…” she stammered demonstratively, making a face at him before stepping down to the platform after Ginny. The Fat Lady had a habit of producing passwords that twisted her larynx into a knot.

“That’s all right, I’ll open it for you,” Ginny said with a sweet smile, before Ariadne drew back as she noticed Draco Malfoy striding down the platform to their side, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Their parents had undoubtedly been busy that holiday.

“Ugh, they’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel for Gryffindor this year,” he spat, puffing out his chest to show off his own Prefect badge. “But I suppose they don’t really have any alternatives.”

“Not really prefectly behaviour, Draco,” Ron called back snidely. “Did ol’ Lucius ask Snape to give you a leg up?” he asked, as Ariadne tried to stay on the opposite side of Ginny from Draco. “Y’see, neither of us had to  _ buy our way in _ ,” he added, smiling to Hermione as Draco made a face and strode on and ignored them as he gave the veritably cowering Ariadne a strange look before leaving them behind. “Bloody prat,” Ron said as they walked onward. “You all right Ariadne? You look like you’re trying to disappear.” Ariadne nodded mutely, her magic still just as weirdly wobbly as it had been all afternoon.

“How was your holiday, Neville?” Hermione asked as they descended the steps from the platform toward the carriages and their glowing Thestral steeds, Ariadne’s glasses creating odd shadows amongst the shifting leaves and trunks of the trees and low-lying foliage.

“Pretty good, all things considered,” Neville replied. “My great-uncle Algie gave me this for my birthday,” he added, holding up the plant. “Oh, Ariadne, um, I believe you, by the way. I know all the papers are going after you, but I believe you. So does my gran.”

“Thanks,” Ariadne mumbled, smiling at the boy even as she hung her head.

“Oh, hey Luna!” Ginny called to a figure sitting alone in a waiting carriage. “Mind if we join you?”

“I don’t mind,” the girl replied in a wafty tone, shuffling to the side slightly without raising her head from the thin book she was reading.

“C’mon,” Ginny said, pulling herself up onto the carriage to sit by Luna, as Ariadne sat down beside Ginny, frowning as she wondered where she’d heard the name before. “Everyone, this is Luna, Luna Lovegood. We take Care of Magical Creatures together, she’s actually really good at it. Never got to talk to you much though,” Ginny said, prompting the long-haired girl to look up from the book as the others sat down. The girl sat in her robes, however she was wearing roughly spherical earrings and a necklace with a cylindrical charm hanging from it.

“Hello Ginevra,” Luna said, her eyes a little wide. “Ariadne, Hermione, Neville, Ron.”

“Oh, you’re the Quibbler editor’s daughter, aren’t you?” Hermione asked. “They’re the only ones being nice to Ariadne,” she explained to Neville.

“Not daughter. Just child will do,” Luna replied. Ariadne tilted her head curiously, a tiny smile flickering through her anxiety. Was she not the only trans student at Hogwarts?

“So you’re not a girl?” Ron asked from beside Luna, frowning.

“No, I’m not,” Luna replied, as Neville too frowned.

“So you’re a boy? Like Ariadne but the other way around?” Ron continued, pointing to Ariadne as she smiled and the Thestral started pulling the carriage.

“Not quite,” Luna said, being gently jostled by the trundle of the wheels. “I consider myself neither. Or both, some days. Most people don’t understand, but I suppose you might if you’re friends with Ariadne.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were non-binary, sorry,” Hermione said, to a small smile from Luna.

“That’s quite all right,” Luna replied.

“Wait, so if you’re… non-binary, then do I call you a he, a she, or…?” Ron asked earnestly, frowning with his mouth open a little.

“He, she, they, I don’t particularly mind,” they said. “Dad likes to mix it up sometimes, use all three in the same sentence.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ginny said, smiling at them before contorting her neck to look at the book Luna was reading upside down. “Oh, the Quibbler?”

“Yes. Dad likes to get a second opinion, so I help him proofread it,” Luna said, holding up the pamflet.

“Upside down?” Hermione pointed out.

“I prefer it,” Luna said simply, folding up the issue as Ariadne kept a roving mental eye about the forests surrounding them, taking note of Zhou and her friends in the carriage ahead of them. “Oh, have you not got your bracelet anymore, Ginevra?” Ginny jumped.

“No! It’s great!” Ginny exclaimed, beaming at Luna as she rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll be able to cast spells again, properly!”

“That’s nice,” Luna said, looking about them and not seeming to know how to react as she looked down again, an air of awkwardness hanging about the carriage as Ginny smiled happily.

“That’s an interesting necklace?” Hermione said, trying to breach the bubble of social din that had smothered the group as she pointed to the cylindrical piece, wringing her hand gently.

“It’s a charm, actually,” Luna replied. “Keeps away the Nargles,” he explained, leaning forward.

“What’s a Nargle?” Ron asked curiously. “We didn’t study those last year.” Luna immediately span to him, evidently eager to explain as she launched into discussion.

“Oh! Nargles are these mischievous little sprites, they often infest mistletoe,” they said, wiggling their fingers as they spoke, something Hermione immediately noticed with a gentle tilt of her head. “Butterbeer corks can keep them away. They stole my socks once,” she added, holding up the charm with a smile. Ariadne frowned. She’d never sensed any pinpricks of magic amongst mistletoe when Hogwarts had been decorated with it, but to be fair, perhaps the creatures weren’t inherently magical, or they were just too small. Although, if they were, there would need to have been a lot of them to steal even one sock, let alone a pair. Luna frowned. “Hungry. I hope there’s pudding.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘twas fun seeing y’all in the discord theorize of what I’d do with Luna - we got our nonbinary Luna! Let’s slap that there enby in the tags!  
> xD I love how in the start of the movie they’re going “it’s the hottest summer on record!” but as soon as they go to Hogwarts at like the tail end of summer they’re all wearing thick jumpers.


	156. Fifth Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne grapples with her return to a very different climate at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that’s 60,000 hits. Jeez.   
> I also posted a little Werewolf!Ariadne AU version of the third Triwizard Task called “Princess,” which is why this was published today and not yesterday. Enjoy! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627760  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

Ariadne sat pensively beside Hermione as she picked at a bowl of raspberry crumble noncommittally. Her appetite had only waned upon entering the Great Hall, and in truth even before then, as they’d ascended to the Hall and she took in the stares. The subtle glares, the shaking heads. Even Lavender had seemed to be keeping her distance as Ariadne had walked sullenly behind Hermione, and even as Ariadne chewed a mouthful of mushy raspberry, Seamus to her left was giving her a fairly wide berth, space for two people between the pair.

He wasn’t the only one. It seemed many a student had something to say about her, as she sensed briefly turned heads, mutters reaching even her ears as a tidy-haired fourth year Hufflepuff boy stared at her, expressionless. She almost wished she couldn’t sense in a sphere, that her sense were restricted like everyone else’s so she didn’t have to know when each and every child shot her a disdainful face as Ron took another slice of apple pie, Hermione giving him a pointed look.

“What? I’m hungry,” Ron muttered, digging his fork into it. “Barely eaten all day.” This was definitely true - Ariadne could almost hear his stomach grumbling even through the cacophony of the Hall and every catching-up group of friends. Even Ginny was sitting with Clarabelle and her other dormmates, happily wearing her sleeves rolled up pointedly. Unfortunately, Ariadne did not share Ron’s gusto as she barely touched her own dessert.

“Just don’t make yourself sick, we’ve got things to do,” Hermione told him reproachfully.

“I know, I know,” Ron replied as she sensed Professor Dumbledore stand from the head table. It was strange - not only was there the unfamiliar red and green core of who she presumed had to be the woman setting Ron on edge, but Hagrid’s massive form was also missing.

“Good evening, children,” Dumbledore called, immediately catching the Prefects’ attention as the chattering Hall slowly fell silent. “Now, we have two changes in staffing this year. We’re pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank,” he announced, gesturing to the old woman who sat on his left. “Who’ll be taking Care of Magical Creatures, while Professor Hagrid is on temporary leave.” Ariadne frowned, as Ron jumped.

“Wh… what am I gonna-” Ron muttered, as Hermione looked about anxiously. With Hagrid gone, Ariadne knew immediately the problem that was presented to Ron - the boy had not particularly enjoyed being cooped up in the Shrieking Shack on the odd occasion he’d been forced to be, feral or no, he needed space. Ariadne, meanwhile, had another concern. Care of Magical Creatures was going to be particularly lonely if she could neither talk to Ron, who would be taking Muggle Studies with Hermione after having incredulously received an Exceeds Expectations for his exam thanks to Hermione’s assistance,  _ or _ Hagrid.

“Talk to Professor McGonagall, she’s an Animagus,” Hermione replied under her breath. Ron nodded, as Dumbledore kept talking.

“We also wish to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge. I’m sure you’ll all join me in wishing the Professor  _ good luck _ ,” Dumbledore continued, as Ron turned up his nose. Ariadne was glad to sense that his disdain was also not singular - almost a third of the students Ariadne could sense had glared at the new Professor in some way, eyes tightened and lips curled. Remus had been a favourite. She suspected Umbridge wouldn’t be. “Now, as usual, our caretaker Mister Filch has asked me to remind you-” Dumbledore was interrupted by a bubbly, sweet clearing of Umbridge’s throat as the woman put her bag up on the table. The Headmaster blinked disdainfully, turning to her as if to chastise an unruly student as Umbridge stood. Even Professor Snape was looking at her as if she’d just produced the worst Hair-Raising Potion he’d ever seen. Nevertheless, the woman, whose fuzzy outfit looked very strange as Ariadne’s glasses attempted to show off its fluffy shape, made her way around the front of the head table, smiling smugly. She wore a sort of tiered coat dress with four pockets on its front, an embellished collar and large fluffy cuffs on its sleeves, and a green bubble marking what looked like an enchanted brooch on her chest above a pocket. Atop her head sat a knitted hat of some description, which made her head look rather tall to Ariadne.

“That’s her,” Ron whispered, as the unwelcoming expressions about the Hall intensified about them.

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those  _ kind _ words of welcome,” Umbridge announced as she walked slowly to stand just before him, obfuscating the owl plinth Dumbledore stood behind. “And how  _ lovely _ to see all your bright,  _ happy _ faces smiling up at me,” she added, smiling at them all as the Great Hall responded with perhaps the dreariest response they’d ever had to a Professor - many doing quite the opposite of smiling, as Ron remained stony faced and an air of contempt bathed the Hall. Ariadne supposed Ron probably wanted to at least  _ appear _ neutral, Prefect and all, but Ariadne could see the wobbles of anger in his core as he sat perfectly still, staring at her. “I’m sure we’re all going to be  _ very _ good friends,” Umbridge said.

“That’s likely,” Fred and George murmured sarcastically in unison down the table, to the tiniest flick of an eyebrow from Ron.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of  _ vital _ importance,” Umbridge announced, beginning to pace to the side as it seemed she had a speech to give. “Although each new Headmaster has brought something… new to this historic school…” she said, turning to Dumbledore expectantly, as the Headmaster nodded with an artificial smile, as if to tell her to get it over with. “Progress for the sake of progress  _ must _ be discouraged.” Ariadne sat up, her eyebrows furrowed.  _ That _ was a familiar tone. “Let us preserve what must be preserved. Perfect what  _ can _ be perfected, and prune practices that ought to be…  _ prohibited _ ,” she finished, with a tiny chuckle as a chill ran down Ariadne’s arm. Dumbledore expressionlessly brought his hands up to clap her off the raised section of the floor, an irritated look visible on his face even to Ariadne as the student body reluctantly joined in politely.

“ _ Thank you _ , Professor Umbridge. That really was most illuminating,” he called. “Now, as I was saying. As usual, our caretaker Mister Filch…” Dumbledore resumed.

“That didn’t sound very friendly,” Ron mumbled.

“Bet… bet you a hundred galleons she’s a massive transphobe,” Ariadne whispered, blinking gravely at how identically Umbridge had matched their paternal grandfather’s tone, as Dumbledore explained that magic was forbidden in the corridors, to Ginny’s seeming disappointment.

“The Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts,” Hermione murmured. “It must be part of what Kingsley told us about, they’re trying to discredit Professor Dumbledore. Poke holes in how he runs the school.” Ariadne nodded glumly, sighing as Dumbledore continued to announce the minor start of term notices. It wasn’t long, however, before Professor Dumbledore announced that it was time to head to the Common Rooms, and Ron and Hermione sprang up.

“Right, right, um, you want me do most of the talking?” Ron asked as he looked around wildly.

“Yes please,” Hermione replied, standing beside him. “We’ll see you later, ‘Adne, just got to show the first years the way,” she said. Ariadne nodded and started off on her own.

“First years! Gryffindor first years, over here please!” Ron called over the chatter beckoning them with his arms in the air, about two dozen small students - small being relative, as some were taller than Ariadne - shuffled past her on their way to the Prefects. She’d lost Ginny in the crowd somewhere, and so Ariadne avoided bumping into everyone as she lagged back, letting the bulk of the crowd go first. “C’mere c’mere c’mere. Okay! I think that’s all of them, right ‘Mione? Eighteen first years, good. There’s a lot of ya this year,” Ron said. “So! I’m Ron, Ron Weasley, this is Hermione Granger, and we’re your Prefects for the year. Maybe next year too if we’re good at it. I’m new to this, so go easy on me,” he announced in a friendly tone, eliciting a laugh from the 11 year olds. “It’s our job to show you to the dorm, and to answer any questions, so feel free to sound off. Apparently there’s a map in the Common Room now, so that’ll show you where your classes are. We didn’t have that in our first year, so I was late on my first day. Don’t make my mistake!” he told them jovially, smiling as Ariadne made her way from the Great Hall.

She had to admit, it was pleasant to be back at school, but walking up to the Gryffindor Common Room alone left her melancholy as her magic flickered in anxiety, watching everyone around her cautiously as various Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs made their ways to where Ariadne presumed their Common Rooms were. She was tired. The return to Hogwarts had been exhausting socially, and so she simply wanted to go and lie down, perhaps read a book before going to bed.

Ariadne grimaced as she approached the Fat Lady’s green-glowing portrait, gratefully letting her legs rest as she stopped at the landing.

“Mimimimimim… Mimbuh-mim-bimim-b-mim…” she stammered, tensing her face at her inability to speak the password. How could it be so hard?! Why was  _ speaking _ so hard?!

“It’s all right, take your time,” the Fat Lady said gently from the flat green surface. Ariadne blinked resentfully. It was the Fat Lady’s fault she was having trouble, she could have chosen an easier password.

“B-mimim-mimbumim… ugh,” Ariadne grumbled. “Mim...bu...lus… Mim...ble…to...ni-a,” she slowly said, tapping her bag reflexively with each syllable she struggled through.

“There you go, in you come,” the Fat Lady said, her portrait swinging out and revealing the porthole of the Gryffindor Common Room which she quickly stepped into with a ragged sigh. A cheerful chatter was bubbling through the door, and she was warmly happy to return, even if her immediate destination was her bed. Slight chagrin met her mind as she remembered she’d have to climb  _ five _ flights of stairs just get there, not including the one to the balcony which brought it to six. Stairs, stairs and more stairs, it seemed had been the motto of the Hogwarts architects. Sally-Anne, Dean, Lavender and Seamus sat around a small table, holding a newspaper with multiple green images glimmering on its surface, while Ginny sat on a sofa with Clarabelle. The twins too sat on a nearby sofa, and the room was littered with conversations. Or at least, it had been only moments ago.

Ariadne stopped walking, standing between Seamus and the twins, frowning as she realized the room had gone quiet. Gazes met her as her shoulders tensed together as she ‘looked’ around, her expression going slack as she tried to shrink in on herself. Awkward was not a strong enough word to describe the pit her stomach had dropped into. Perhaps the Chamber of Secrets’ slide was a good analogy. Ariadne swallowed.

“La-laven-lavender. Sss-Sally-Anne,” she spluttered, shaking slightly, as she spoke softly. “Did-did-did-did… did you have a good holiday?” she asked, spinning her head about curiously again as many a gaze stayed on her. What was happening?

“Yeah, it was all right,” Lavender replied with a tight expression. “Better than his,” she added, tilting a head at Seamus without moving her eyes from where they must have pointed at Ariadne. Ariadne grimaced, confused but sympathetic before she jumped as Seamus slapped the paper down on the table and stood up.

“Me mam didn’t want me to come back this year,” Seamus said loudly, as Ariadne took an uncertain step back, the fear in her magic growing with a flaring warble as she flinched.  _ Oh dear. _

“Wh-w-w-w-ww-ww-wh-whw-why not?” Ariadne asked quietly, as Ginny straightened up, clearly staring at Seamus’ back with a steely expression. Behind Seamus, the door to the Common Room opened again, and the lycanthropic core of Ron led the small column of first-years into the Common Room.

“Let me see, er, because of you!” Seamus snapped, making Ariadne back away again, her bottom lip quavering as she swallowed. Ron’s attention was immediately distracted from his task, as he span to see what was happening. “The  _ Daily Prophet _ ’s been saying a lot of things about you Ariadne, and about Dumbledore as well.”

Ron said something quickly to Hermione before he began walking over slowly, eyeing Seamus.

“Tha-that’s not exactly news, they-they-they’ve been after my hide sin-sp-ever since I defefefefe-defended-defended Remus. Does… does your mum believe them?” Ariadne stammered, her ability to speak waning as her chest tightened and her arms went numb, curling in on herself as if to hide from the eyes that looked to her.

“Well, nobody was there when you say You-Know-Who came back,” Seamus spat, eliciting an incredulous scowl from Ron, who leapt forward.

“ _ Nobody was there?! _ ” Ron exclaimed belligerently, almost stalking past Seamus. “Half a dozen people saw her get bloody kidnapped you tosspot!” he barked. “Hermione, her mum and dad, Sirius,  _ my _ dad, Ginny, Cedric, Fleur and Viktor, they all watched it happen!” he listed angrily, bringing himself to stand between Seamus and Ariadne as Ariadne cowered back from the growing conflict. Seamus frowned.

“ _ You _ didn’t,” Seamus spat, pointing at him. Ron froze, and Ginny and the twins tensed up as if to prepare for a fight - Ginny even put her hand to her wand - as Ariadne’s blood went cold. “Where were  _ you _ that night, huh?” he demanded.

“That’s personal,” Ron said quietly, his magic jumping about fearfully as his jaw went tense.

“No, I want to know where you were in all this!” Seamus snarled, clearly having seen Ron’s reaction if not those of his family behind him, and prodded even more. “Y’see, you  _ left _ before Krum even went in the maze, nobody saw you until the next day! Where  _ were  _ you?” he demanded, punctuating himself with wild hand motions.

“Maybe the Prophet knows, ask your stupid mother,” Ron spat back immediately. Ariadne couldn’t sense his face from her angle as she backed even closer to the staircase, but she could have sworn he was on the verge of baring his teeth at Seamus.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ talk about my mother like that!” Seamus yelled.

“I’ll have a go at anyone who calls Ariadne a liar!” Ron yelled back, stepping forward and causing Seamus to back down a bit at his furious expression, which, combined with the scar across his face, must have been rather fearsome.

“So you believe the rubbish she’s coming out with about You-Know-Who?” Seamus spat disdainfully.

“Yeah, I do. Because  _ unlike you _ , I’ve seen her freak the bloody hell out because those two Apparated!” Ron exclaimed, pointing at Fred and George, who looked away sheepishly. “Nearly blew their bloody heads off. Now has anyone  _ else _ got a problem with Ariadne?” he snarled, looking about the Common Room, veritably scaring off the staring onlookers. Nobody spoke. “Good.” Ron turned to Ariadne. “Just head up, get some sleep yeah?” he murmured gently, patting her on the back as she was already a step up on the staircase. Ariadne gratefully hurried up, as she heard Ron stride across the Common Room again to go back to the First years, where Hermione was happily explaining what the SPEER badge underneath her Prefect one was and what SPEER was. “Another rule, first years. You harass anyone, you answer to me. Seamus, twenty points from Gryffindor, I’m allowed to do that now,” he growled, before smugly turning to Seamus as Ariadne reached the top of the stairs and her glasses revealed the wider room again.

“Wha- but we don’t even  _ have  _ any points yet!” Seamus protested, spreading his arms.

“Then enjoy being the one who put us into the negatives,” Ron spat, before turning to the new students and explaining the dorms to them as Ariadne hurried up the stairs, breathing heavily as her heart hammered through her ears and chest. There were  _ so many _ stairs between her and her bed, and the sweating girl finally reached the fifth-year dorm. She didn’t even care about how it compared to that of the fourth years, as she scrambled to the bed accompanied by her trunk, broom and guitar case, and tore the curtains shut, not even bothering to take her shoes off as she huddled in a ball on the bed, shivering in fear. Unpacking did not even enter her disintegrating mind.

Even her classmates hated her. Seamus had just been the one to make it obvious, but Lavender’s blue-coated expression had hardly been welcoming. Even the people who would be sleeping in the same room as her.

_ The Girl Who Lies, the Girl Who Lies, the Girl Who Lies, the Girl Who Lies _ rang through her head as Ariadne started crying, rocking on her mattress as tears began to soak into her skirt and run down her face, her sniffling sobs echoing through the empty room. Why did this have to happen to her?! Why couldn’t it have happened to someone else, or ideally,  _ nobody _ . WHY?!

Ariadne was quickly wishing she was just in her bedroom, sleeping peacefully after a day of classes in a non-magical secondary school, where she wasn’t being torn into by what was effectively the state media apparatus.

Even if not being a witch would have meant she’d never have had a magic sense, at least she could have been herself.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that was… significantly less fluffy than “Princess,” literally and figuratively.


	157. Under The Radar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne, Hermione and Ron face their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson under now-Professor Dolores Umbridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the angst begin! Or rather, continue.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: Transphobia, deliberate misgendering, ableism.

> _ Straight, white lines of mortar between bricks in circles and arches, reflective black slabs sliding past her. Sculptures of dragon heads stretching on and on forever. An ever so slightly dusty floor, that she slithered along hungrily. _
> 
> _ “Harry.” A hand, long-nailed and pale. Voldemort’s. _
> 
> _ A door. Blue wood, with a large brass circle set into it, bearing the logo of the Ministry of Magic, the door to the Department of Mysteries. Spheres, blue and white flashing into her mind. _
> 
> _ Voldemort. _

Ariadne stomped glumly up the hill as she walked back to the castle from Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Grubbly-Plank, a slight headache plaguing her as she struggled to remember the dream she’d woken from that morning. It had been a repeat of the geometric shapes she kept dreaming about, that much she knew, but she couldn’t remember anything else. Whatever it was, it had been enough to send her jumping awake soaked in her own sweat, so she was almost glad she couldn’t remember it.

Not that Care of Magical Creatures had done much to distract her, not from her dream nor from her predicament. Their first lesson of the year had regarded Bowtruckles, and many students had been glad to lose the chaotic nature of Professor Hagrid’s lessons in favour of Professor Grubbly-Plank’s more leisurely, procedural style. Admittedly, her style suited Ariadne’s anxious nature, even as she lost concentration frequently to the disdainful looks stabbing at her across the blue-coated lawn, but Ariadne was lonely. Normally, she’d have had Hagrid to laugh with, or Ron to reassure her she was doing okay despite her stress because of the Triwizard Tournament the term before, and to laugh with him about how little the creatures trusted him.

That day, she’d been alone. Even those among her dormmates who took the subject didn’t want to work with her, as Draco Malfoy frowned at her shaking attempts to feed a Bowtruckle wood lice. She was glad the adorable little creatures were inherently magical, or she’d have had trouble even finding a branch to work with.

Regardless, Ariadne was mutely glad to rejoin Ron and Hermione on their own way to their next class, one that filled them with dread. Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Umbridge. Despite having been allegedly enthralled by the use of the internet he’d been allowed in their first Muggle Studies lesson of the year, Ron had quickly gone quiet as they’d approached the classroom. Ariadne too found herself tense, and not just for the danger Ron was in. Umbridge was, by all accounts, a horrible person and not just to werewolves. Anything she viewed as a half-breed or as unnatural qualified for her bigotry in her eyes, and Ariadne fully expected that attitude to bring about a resurgence of what she’d experienced in primary school as they stepped into the oddly bare classroom. Under all three of the previous teachers - and one impostor - who’d used the room, it had been decorated with various oddities related to their focuses, but it seemed Professor Umbridge had no interest in doing so. The room was bare, the projector standing at the back, as what had to be a blackboard stood beside the teacher’s desk, upon which a bell, several stacks of books, and an hourglass stood.

Ariadne and Hermione sat beside one another among the far right of the classroom on the third row of desks, while Ron took the seat in the middle column nearest. Behind them sat Dean and Seamus, as the classroom quickly filled up and conversational chatter rang through the rafters. It wasn’t long before the usual shenanigans of waiting for the teacher began, as Parvati gave a folded up piece of paper a final flourish with her wand and it levitated into the air, unfolding itself into the form of a bird. In front of them, someone called for it, and the paper bird - still linked to Parvati’s wand by a thin golden thread - swooped around the front of the class before the girl who’d called for it blew a gust of air under its wings, giving it more altitude as it flew over Ariadne’s head.

“Go on, Seamus, hit it!” Dean suggested, grinning as Seamus leaned slightly to catch it. Meanwhile, Ariadne was wondering why the class hadn’t listed a textbook in their Hogwarts letters, as she got out her fountain pen, well of blue-glowing magical ink, and an exercise book. Seamus leapt into action, swiping at it with his right arm and a slap of paper before it fluttered up and away from both him and the Slytherin boys behind him that tried to follow his motion, escaping up into the rafters and about a chandelier that had replaced the ornamental dragon skeleton that had previously hung there. After a brief swirl, it came back down about their heads to be immediately hit by a pellet sent flying at it by a slingshot Vincent Crabbe had inexplicably produced, as the boys around him laughed before it flew over Ron’s head, the boy eyeing it as it returned to the air above Padma and Parvati, flying up.

The door at the back of the classroom opened silently to reveal the red and green blob that was Dolores Umbridge, her garb thankfully not as fuzzy as Ariadne’s glasses pulsed. However, somewhat less thankfully, the woman raised her wand and made Ariadne jump as a bolt of red stabbed out at the enchanted paper bird, halting its enchantment entirely as a burnt crunching sound accompanied its immediate fall back to Parvati and Padma’s desk. Hermione span, as did the rest of the class save for Ariadne, who didn’t need to, to see their Professor standing smugly in the doorway.

“Good morning, children,” Umbridge called in a warm, albeit infantilizing tone, as she started walking through the gap between the left and centre columns of desks, raising her wand again. “Ordinary… Wizarding… Level…  _ examinations! _ ” Umbridge recited, a blue light tracing what Ariadne could at least tell from the motion had to be the same words onto the board as Ron glared at her, albeit subtly. “O! W! Ls! More commonly known  _ as _ … Owls!” she explained coming to a halt before her desk, as Ariadne raised an eyebrow. They were fifteen, not five, but Umbridge either did not know the difference, or didn’t care about the distinction. Perhaps both. Regardless, she clearly thought them stupid. She’d known what OWLs were since before she’d come to Hogwarts thanks to having been read a book. “Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be… severe.”  _ Oh no, some students might have to retake exams. What a horror _ , Ariadne thought sarcastically, before Umbridge flicked her wand to the side with a pursed expression and yellow tendrils branched out to pick up the four stacks of books, which pendulously hovered down the aisles and deposited a book on each students’ desk. Ariadne frowned. Evidently the textbook was to be supplied then. Shrugging, Ariadne supposed she wasn’t going to complain about a free book as she let her wand slip out of her sleeve.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” Ariadne whispered as Hermione opened the book, to be welcomed with the entire cover blaring out blue. Typical. She’d have to ask what the title was. Hermione, meanwhile, was already flipping through it and taking particular note of its table of contents as she looked through the book, her brow furrowing more and more. Opening it herself, Ariadne could tell why. The title was luckily printed on the inside cover.  _ Dark Arts Defence - Basics for Beginners _ .

“Your previous instruction in this subject has been disturbingly... uneven,” Umbridge stated disdainfully as she let her spell do its work and deposit books before everyone. “But you’ll be pleased to know, from now on, you’ll be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic.” Hermione frowned and raised her hand. “Yes?”

“There’s nothing in here about using defensive spells?” Hermione said questioningly, lowering her hand again as Umbridge turned to her. Hermione did not appear to be alone in her worry, as Ariadne continued to flip through the book with a sinking heart, and even Seamus, among others including, inexplicably, Draco Malfoy, frowned at Umbridge.

“ _ Using _ spells? Ha ha!” Umbridge exclaimed in mirth, as if Hermione’s question were absurd and she’d just grown cat ears or something. Ron grimaced at the high-pitched chuckle Umbridge exuded, before the woman stepped forward slightly. “Well, I can’t imagine why you would  _ need _ to use spells in my classroom,” she said condescendingly, as Hermione gave her an odd look and Ariadne faced up, frowning. Defence Against the Dark Arts was, and had almost always been, a class where practical experience was  _ key _ . Well, save for under Lockhart, but not only did Ariadne feel she’d gained quite enough practical experience in the Chamber of Secrets, but he had been well understood to have been completely incompetent. At this rate, Umbridge would have been competing for Lockhart’s crown. The whole  _ point _ of the class was to learn how to defend one’s self, and if the entire last year of her life had been anything to go off, practice was  _ essential _ .

“We’re not gonna use magic?” Ron asked with a perplexed expression as he too seemed to mirror her thoughts, holding the book in his hand almost in disgust.

“You will be  _ learning _ about defensive spells in a secure, risk free way,” Umbridge explained, her tone never varying from the same condescending croon that was quickly getting on Ariadne’s nerves as she retreated into her chair, screwing up her face slightly in an extremely skeptical scowl.

“Well wha’s the point of that?” Ron grumbled, giving her a foul eye. “It’s no use if we haven’t got any experience  _ using _ them,” he said, Ariadne’s heart tightening as he protested far too much for someone who was supposed to be keeping a low profile.

“Students will raise their hands before they speak in my class,” Umbridge snapped, turning and striding back up to the raised desk. Ron made a face as Ariadne watched the coating of magic on his eyes roll. “It is the view of the Ministry that a  _ theoretical _ knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about.”

“What if you wanna become an Auror? There’s a practical for that, how’s theory gonna prepare  _ anyone _ for what’s out there, Auror or not?” Ron grumbled, raising his hands in faux confusion as Ariadne turned her face to him slightly.  _ Stop, you idiot, stop talking. _ An Auror wasn’t even something Ron was  _ capable _ of being, not unless certain laws around lycanthropy were changed, certain laws Umbridge herself had instated.

“There is  _ nothing _ out there dear!” Umbridge droned incredulously, as if Ron were being ridiculous. Ariadne had to admit, she agreed with Ron even if she wished the boy would shut his mouth before the Professor got too inquisitive about the scar across his face. “Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?” she asked, as if there were no answer and Ron were being an idiot.  _ Don’t answer that you impulsive idiot! _

“Oh I dunno, how about the bloody Death Eater that kidnapped her last term and brought You-Know-Who back?” Ron spat sarcastically, throwing his arm at Ariadne, who grimaced and internally groaned. This was not going to go well. The room went silent as Umbridge’s face went stony, her smile becoming hesitant as she looked about the room.  _ That _ had not been quite so supported by everyone, and although Ariadne was glad that he wasn’t getting stared at as if he were insane, her heart was hammering as Umbridge stepped forward.

“Now let me make this… quite plain,” Umbridge hissed, somehow still retaining that horribly condescending tone of voice as she walked into the aisle between Hermione and Ron, as Ariadne cowered slightly. “You have been told… that a  _ certain dark wizard _ … is at large once again. This. Is. A. Lie,” she declared, as Ariadne winced. She wasn’t exactly surprised, as the name  _ The Girl Who Lies _ rang through her mind again.

She was, however, surprised as Ron’s magic blared in anger.

“It’s not a lie!” Ron shouted indignantly. “She fought him, she nearly got bloody killed getting  _ back here! _ ” he yelled, slamming his book down onto his desk as Hermione’s eyes went wide and she stared at him.  _ That _ was getting perilous to say the least as Ariadne’s blood ran cold.

“Detention, Mister Weasley!” Umbridge yelled, spinning and striding back toward the front.

“ _ Oh what, do you think she cut up her own arm for shits and giggles?! _ ” Ron yelled, standing suddenly as Ariadne shook.  _ FUCKING STOP, RON! _ she screamed internally, her mouth hanging open in terror as he stood over his desk, fury burning on his face. Defence of herself she was happy with, but not when he was being so fucking reckless! 

“The injury upon her arm-”

“ _ D’YOU THINK SHE’S BLOODY PLAYING AT BEING TRAUMATIZED?! _ ” he bellowed, as Ariadne tried to vanish into her seat so the argument would stop, Ron’s voice echoing in her ears as her heartbeat thumped and thumped and THUMPED and became all she could hear.

“ENOUGH!” Umbridge screamed, snapping her arms down angrily. Ron flinched, seeming to have suddenly realized what it was he was doing as he shakily sat down, eyes wide. Ariadne shook as Ron creakily sat back into his chair, breathing heavily as every pair of eyes in the class, from the way the magic was moving, followed him in awe, but not in a good way. “Enough. See me later, Mister Weasley. My office,” she said, becoming almost menacing in the scintillating smile she gave, following her instruction with an almost sarcastic bubbling laugh for which she didn’t even open her mouth - almost more like she was clearing her throat than laughing. Ariadne was almost relieved that Umbridge didn’t bring it up again, as she resumed her saccharin explanation of what they’d be learning, before going on to explain quite literally everything there was to possibly know about what an exam was. Even Ariadne was bored, despite Ron’s outburst and the terrifying consequences it could have had, and so she flipped the textbook open to review just how placid and ineffectual Umbridge’s class was going to be.

“ _ Aurum _ ink,” she murmured, facing up at Umbridge even as she flipped through childish explanations of what pixies were, of ridiculous hex-defences and of nearly plausible descriptions of other tiny creatures. Somehow,  _ iguanas _ had made it in there. What a terrifying dark beast.

“Wand away, Mister Granger,” Professor Umbridge called. Ariadne’s heart jumped. She’d expected such from Umbridge, but not as quickly. Not as immediately. Defiantly, Ariadne let a frown flicker across her face as she left her wand in her hand over the book. “ _ Wand away, Mister Granger _ ,” she repeated, louder that time and at a slower cadence, as if she were speaking to a small child. Ariadne deepened her frown.

“I… I’m sorry, Professor? Who are you speaking to? We don’t have a brother,” Ariadne asked slowly, deliberately pretending Umbridge was just being stupid, as half the students in the class glared at Umbridge, her dormmates openly so. At least she could trust them to back her up on her gender.

“You, Mister Granger,” Umbridge replied simply, retaining her infantile tone and volume. Ariadne frowned, lopsidedly this time as she looked at Umbridge as if she too were being monumentally dull.

“I’m not-I’m not-I’m not-I’m not a boy, Professor,” she told her simply, raising her eyebrows to subtly introduce her own condescension.

“Yes you are, Mister Granger. Wand away,” Umbridge replied dismissively, turning from her and breathing in to continue her droning lecture.

“D’you want her to read the book or not? She can’t read without it,” Ron snapped angrily, not even looking up at Umbridge. Umbridge huffed and span to face him.

“I should think his  _ glasses _ provide that functionality?” Umbridge spat, beginning to turn again.

“That’s not how  **_her_ ** glasses work, I know because I made them,” Hermione said loudly, almost growling the correct pronoun as she glared at Umbridge.

“Then you made them incorrectly,” Umbridge laughed, smiling in mirth, before frowning at Hermione. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to Hermione. Hermione frowned, before holding up her ballpoint.

“A  _ pen _ , Professor Umbridge,” Hermione replied, channeling the same hostile tone Umbridge had directed at her.

“If you did not bring a quill and ink, I can provide you with them,” Umbridge snapped. “You will use the correct listed equipment, not some silly Muggle device.”

\--

> _ Mum and Dad _
> 
> _ 05/09/02 _
> 
> _ Thought I should let you know, our first day went… not well. Turns out that not only is Umbridge a massive arse to werewolves, but she’s a transphobe as well. Ron yelled at her for calling me a liar (unrelated), he’s in detention already. Hopefully nothing happens. _
> 
> _ Luckily she hasn’t pulled any strings to force the other teachers to, but in her class, she refers to me as a boy and as Mister Granger. I can’t do much, but I thought you should know in case you want to send a complaint to the school - angry parents do more than angry students. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Ariadne. _

Ariadne grumbled irritatedly as she blew on the ink of her quickly written letter, waiting for it to dry before she folded it up. She hated when the world was contradictory as it was that afternoon, as rebellious wizarding rock blared from a small radio and Fred and George had unveiled their newest product test for volunteers - Skiving Snackboxes, something Ariadne wasn’t sure she could condone as a stakeholder, but something to which she was willing to turn two very much blind eyes to. The Common Room’s atmosphere was pleasant, even happy, all around as Hermione, beside her, rubbed her fingers and fiddled with the dangling ties of her jacket anxiously at the scratching feeling Ariadne knew Hermione could probably still feel after doing her best to take as few notes as possible in the remainder of Defence. At least she had some Transfiguration homework to take a look at on simple Vanishment. Ginny, meanwhile, was sitting on the other side of her from Hermione, filling out a quiz Professor Flitwick had given his fourth year Charms class.

She and Hermione hadn’t had the chance to speak to Ron since his outburst - after class, he’d hurriedly shuffled his way to Umbridge’s office, muttering something about being quiet. As such, Ariadne was glad to face up as she finally sensed the lycanthropic core of her friend scurry into the Common Room, his hands in his pockets - odd for Ron, who usually didn’t like doing so - as he swiftly made his way over.

“Hey guys,” Ron said, his expression blank even as he tugged off his cloak and sat down on it cross-legged on the floor in front of them. “Whatcha working on?” he asked, as he dug into his bag, to a frown from Hermione, who leaned forward slightly.

“Writing home,” Ariadne replied simply. “‘Bout Umbridge.” Ron nodded.

“Yeah, she was bang out of order. Bloody horrible, saying that to you,” Ron snarled, still plunging his hand into the rustling depths of his bag. “Oh come on, I know you’re in here somewhere,” he muttered, before pulling out a small bottle, leaving his bag in front of him as he put the bottle down between himself and the backpack, the sound of a cork popping out ever so slightly reaching Ariadne’s ears.

“What’s that?” Ginny asked, trying to peer over at his hidden hands.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ron muttered, not looking at them. Hermione, however, was not convinced.

“Ron. What’s wrong with your hand?” she asked, leaning over.

“Nothing, see,” Ron replied, holding up his right. Hermione squinted at him.

“Your  _ other _ hand,” she said, unceremoniously jumping forward and tugging his left arm up, before her eyes bulged at the back of his hand. Ariadne frowned. She couldn’t sense much different, save for what might have been some scabs. Ron sighed darkly, shaking his head.

“That quill of hers is nasty,” he hissed. Ariadne’s eyes went wide, as she realized that the raised skin on the back of his left hand was whatever lines he’d been told to write. She’d heard of such quills before, they had even been used at Hogwarts before, but never  _ recently! _ “It’s all right, I’ve had worse,” Ron said dismissively, pulling his hand back before dipping a finger into the bottle and smearing whatever was in it onto the scar. “Murtlap. Never actually had to use this before,” he sniffed amusedly.

“You’ve got to tell Dumbledore,” Hermione hissed with a horrified expression.

“Nah, I’ve got it,” Ron replied nonchalantly. “Don’t wanna give her the satisfaction anyway,” he shrugged.

“R-Ron… she’s  _ torturing  _ you!” Ariadne exclaimed, leaning down to him. “If your mum and dad knew?!”

“Ron, you’ve got to report this!” Hermione added, staring at him incredulously. “It’s perfectly simple-”

“No, ‘Mione, it’s not!” Ron growled back suddenly. “I can’t draw  _ any _ more attention to myself. I was angry and I can’t let it happen again. If she gets a  _ whiff _ of what I am, I’m  _ done _ .” Hermione swallowed, recoiling at that realization as Fred and George eagerly jogged over with a thick book.

“Ariadne!” Fred called, distracting them. “Thought you might like to take a look at our  _ market research _ ,” he said, sitting down beside Ron with the book.

“Skiving Snackboxes?” Ariadne asked, to a nod. “Okay,  _ Aurum _ ink,” she muttered, opening the page of questionnaires as Hermione leaned over.

“Obviously as a Prefect I don’t approve of this behaviour but… could you make something mild? For Ron?” Hermione asked urgently under her breath. “Just to give him sniffles and a cough, maybe?”

“To break it up like Remus said?” George whispered back. Hermione nodded, as Ron smiled slightly. “We’ll look into it,” he told her, patting Ron’s shoulder.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw some very fun speculation about how that would go for Ariadne, but ah, it wouldn’t. Thought I’d give Ron the heart attack >:)


	158. Not My Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne struggles to maintain a sense of normalcy amongst the chaos of their first week back at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Umbridge is a Horrific Mess for the New Marauders.  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

“Remember, students, that your sheets on Switching Spells are due on Friday!” Professor McGonagall called over the ruckus that had erupted at the ringing of the bell, as Ariadne stood, folding up her parchment and corking her ink vial. “They will almost certainly be part of your Transfiguration OWL and as such it would behoove you to refresh your memories on what you have studied previously,” she added, as students began filtering out of the classroom. “And keep practicing your Vanishing spells!”

“Not coming, Ron?” Hermione asked, frowning as she started toward the door beside Ariadne. Ron hadn’t started toward the door, far from it, in fact, he was wavering on the spot beside where he’d been sitting.

“Er, um…” Ron spluttered, attention divided as he looked to Hermione. “Um, I’ve er… I’ve got to talk to Professor McGonagall,” he said sheepishly, looking away from them awkwardly.

“Oh,” Hermione said, drawing back as Ariadne pursed her lips and nodded. Not a subject to discuss out loud, if she were correct in her presumption that he meant to ask McGonagall about her Animagus ability. “Um, should we stay here?”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Ron said. “Go have some lunch, I’ll catch up,” he told them, before swinging his satchel onto his shoulder and gently pushing his way through the small crowd of their classmates toward the Professor.

“All right. See you Ron!” Hermione called, turning with Ariadne with a wave to the boy before they left the classroom, joining the echoing voices of the hundreds of students going to lunch and going about their days. “You know, I hadn’t expected Vanishing to be quite so easy, it really is only reducing the subject down to its atomic components and dispersing them,” she said, eliciting a snort from Ariadne. The pair had been quite literally the only students in the class to manage to Vanish the snails conjured for them, albeit on Hermione’s third and Ariadne’s second tries - Ariadne had been able to successfully Vanish its shell on her first attempt, but not the rest of the snail. “And snails aren’t really particularly complex in terms of what they’re made of.”

“But-to-butobutbutbut- but to be fair, how-how how many of them know much about atoms?” Ariadne asked with a smile. “Chemistry and physics aren’t really taught here, closest is Alchemy in seventh year.”

“True,” Hermione scoffed. “It’s no wonder Conjuration is such a difficult branch, it’s not creating anything at all, it’s Transfiguration down to the atomic level.  _ Aguamenti _ is easy because the components are already there, it’s just hydrogen and oxygen, but to create a whole animal like the snails? Even a snail is complex, let alone a large mammal,” she rambled, punctuating her thoughts with wild hand motions as they walked down to the Great Hall. “I mean,  _ obviously _ Vanishment doesn’t  _ actually _ make things stop existing, that would violate the laws of physics!”

“Exactly, conservation of mass and energy!” Ariadne agreed, slapping her own hand emphatically. 

“If you tried to do that, the amount of energy released would be like a thermonuclear bomb!” Hermione exclaimed wildly. “Oh! Hi Ginny!” she spluttered, as Ginny arrived beside them suddenly, a beaming smile on her face.

“Hey Hermione, ‘Adne!” Ginny said happily as they walked into the Hall. “Just had Charms,  _ Merlin _ it’s fun to be able to actually DO things!” she cried, spinning about happily before dizzily sitting down beside Ariadne, who allowed herself the flicker of pride for Ginny’s happiness as she sat down. At least there was one person whose life was going well. “ _ Accio _ toast!” she exclaimed, flicking her wand at a few pieces of bread which zoomed onto her plate with a swipe of yellow.

“One point from Gryffindor,” Hermione said, her words accompanied by the briefest little flicker of blue over at the point-tanks at the front of the Hall. “No magic in the corridors, Ginny,” she added.

“We’re not in a corridor,” Ginny snorted. “Does that rule apply to the Great Hall?” Hermione frowned slightly, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“One point  _ to _ Gryffindor, for _ technically _ following the rules to the letter,” Hermione sniffed, before spinning suddenly on the bench opposite Ariadne. “Oh! Luna?” she called as Luna skipped into the Great Hall. Luna stopped abruptly, looking to her, eyes wide.

“Did I do something wrong, Hermione Granger?” they asked concernedly, frowning confusedly.

“No no, I um, I just wondered if you’d like to come sit with us?” Hermione asked politely. Luna thought about if for a moment, taken aback.

“All right,” Luna said, a cheery tone contradicting the blank one that inhabited the same words, before she sat down beside Hermione. “Hello,” he said, clearly a little unused to being invited to sit.

“Hey Luna,” Ginny said, waving. “Enjoy Charms?” she asked.

“I do,” Luna replied. “Professor Flitwick is very nice, and my mother was always very interested in it. You?”

“Well, I can  _ do _ it now, so, fuck yeah!” Ginny replied eagerly. “Oo, may I?” she added, pointing to something Luna had put on the table, which Ariadne couldn’t quite make out from her angle.

“Of course,” they said, handing Ginny what looked to be a copy of the Quibbler. “Dad’s finished with this issue, it’s in print now. We both believe you, by the way,” he said, turning suddenly to Ariadne, who was in the middle of a slice of toast as she raised her eyebrows curiously. “That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and you fought him. And the Ministry and the Prophet are conspiring against you and Dumbledore. You know, he actually wanted to interview you before term, but you never got back to him,” Luna explained.

“Oh, sorry,” Ariadne replied sheepishly, recoiling from the responsibility. “M-m-mos-mo-mo-most of my p-po-mail goes to Hogsmeade, I didn’t get it,” she explained quickly. “You guys must be some of the only ones.”

“That’s all right,” Luna replied as Hermione neatly took a knife to a sausage. “And I don’t think that’s true. It just feels that way because it’s in the papers. There are more of us than you’d think.”

“Clara believes you too,” Ginny said, leafing through the Quibbler absently. “Oo. ‘Adne, Puddifoots is doing a sale this month, there’s coupons. Mind if we take these, Luna?”

“The-” Ariadne spluttered, emotionally whiplashed between the solemn discussion to the sudden revelation that a tea shop in Hogsmeade was doing a sale. “The tea shop, the one in Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah,” Ginny replied thoughtfully, turning to her with a strange look. “Maybe we should stop by on Sunday, have a nice cuppa, just the two of us.” Ariadne felt her cheeks go pink as she realized what Ginny was suggesting, given Ron’s observations on Percy’s antics with Penelope Clearwater there.

“Wh-what, like… like a… like a date?” Ariadne asked quietly as Hermione gave them an adoring look.

“We haven’t really had a chance to lately, I wanna do something nice,” Ginny replied, smiling at her as Ariadne felt one of Ginny’s hand gently brush against her own arm under the table.

“Sure,” Ariadne said, with a surprised, slightly wobbly smile, her heart just as wobbly. She hadn’t expected that. Ginny beamed, teeth being coated in blue as she leaned over and put her head on Ariadne’s shoulder for a second or two.

“You know, tea is very good for you,” Luna told them, leaning over her plate. “It’s good for your heart and some kinds can help ward off Wrackspurts. Black tea attracts them though,” they elaborated, smiling.

“Hmm. Neat,” Ginny said, nodding as Ariadne sensed the yellow and blue glimmer of Ron walking in the great doors, before his arm shot up and effortlessly caught an enchanted frisbee flying across the entrance hall.

“Oi! Take that outside, if I see it inside again it’s going to Professor Sprout,” Ron called irritably, tossing it back to whoever had thrown it. Sending the evidently Hufflepuff kids scurrying outside, Ron shook his head as he walked on over to the glowing table where they were sitting, Ariadne enduring her brain’s inversion at the arrival of more food on the next table. “Hey guys,” he grumbled, sitting down beside Luna and immediately stacking sausages on his plate. “Oh, hey Luna.”

“Hello Ron,” Luna said.

“Didn’t know you were such a stickler for rules. He’d better not become another Percy because of you, Hermione,” Ginny laughed. Ron scoffed. “Where were you anyway?”

“Oh, had to talk to Professor McGonagall, it’s nothing,” Ron replied nonchalantly, tearing into a sausage.

“What’d she say, is she going to  _ help out _ ?” Hermione asked across Luna, her head tilting ever so slightly to them at that last bit.

“Huh?” Ron grunted, his chewing stopping as he looked back at her in confusion. Hermione wordlessly pointed her head at him, raising her own eyebrows pointedly as she nodded at him. “Oh! Ugh, forgot,” Ron groaned, his forehead meeting his knuckle in frustration.

“How did you forget  _ that?! _ ” Hermione hissed, as Luna looked between them curiously, leaning back in perplexment.

“I... wh-” Ron spluttered before jumping and turning to face the door to the Great Hall again, his expression suddenly alert. “Blimey, that was quick.” It wasn’t long before Ariadne heard the voices too, the voices of Professor Umbridge and Professor McGonagall, in clearly heated discussion. She wasn’t the only one, as heads turned all over the Hall and Ginny leaned as if about to get up. Hermione frowned slightly, before looking to Ron in relief. McGonagall’s ability to transform into a cat was not what he had asked about.

He’d told her about the quill, Ariadne realized as she and Hermione stood in unison, Ron already starting to stroll in the direction of the argument.

“Pardon me, Professor, but what exactly are you insinuating?!” Umbridge asked sharply as Ariadne’s glasses pulsed into the entrance hall and Ron carefully stepped through the door as if creeping up on a dangerous animal.

“I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students, you conform to the  _ prescribed _ disciplinary practices,” McGonagall spat disdainfully, the pair climbing the stairs together as Ron blinked and averted his gaze. Others had followed them out of the Hall, and a small crowd had gathered.

“So silly of me, but it  _ sounds _ as if you’re questioning my authority in my own classroom,” Umbridge replied haughtily, as she took a punctuated step up so her shorter stature could meet McGonagall’s eye. “Minerva.”

“Not at all,  _ Dolores _ ,” McGonagall said, her tone even more dangerous than it had been before as she matched Umbridge’s ascension to once again be standing over her. “Merely your  _ medieval _ methods!” she implored.

“Ugh. I am sorry dear,” Umbridge announced solemnly. “But to question my practices is to question the  _ Ministry _ , and by extension, the Minister himself!” Ariadne frowned incredulously at her downright fascistic attitude, a scowl quickly forming on her face. Not only did Umbridge clearly not understand that she was  _ not _ some faceless representative irresponsible for her own actions, nor did she seem to understand that questioning the Ministry was not a crime, and in fact was something to be encouraged in any case of such occasions. “I am a tolerant woman,” Umbridge continued.  _ No, you bloody well aren’t _ , Ariadne thought. “But the  _ one thing _ I will not stand for is disloyalty.”

“Disloyalty,” McGonagall said, in a tone Ariadne recognized far too well to be that of utter disgust as she stepped back down. Umbridge took another step up, clearly having noticed the crowd.

“Things at Hogwarts are far worse than I feared!” she declared dramatically, her voice echoing through the halls and the gleam of blue over her eyes shifting as she looked to the students. “Cornelius will want to take immediate action.” With that, Umbridge swept around and ascended the stairs with an angry clack of her heels as she swiftly departed.

“That didn’t go how I thought it would,” Ron muttered hoarsely as the silent crowd looked about each other in stunned alarm. Not at all how anyone had expected it to, evidently.  _ Nobody _ talked back to Minerva McGonagall. Even Professor Snape knew better than to question the deputy Headmistress. Ariadne didn’t know what was more disturbing - the idea that Umbridge may have had a death wish to challenge her, or that she was  _ not  _ currently being berated by the presumably irate Scot. Either McGonagall was allowing her wrath to be silent,  _ or _ she could not risk a response.

If Professor McGonagall’s reaction was anything to off, Dolores Umbridge was a threat to be reckoned with - and not just for herself and Ron.

\--

Hogwarts had questioned the Ministry, and the Ministry had answered quickly, as, that Friday, the news had arrived, blaring across the Prophet and nailed high up to the wall outside the Great Hall by Mister Filch;  _ Dolores Jane Umbridge Has Been Appointed to the Post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor _ . Ariadne felt as if she were trying to swim in custard as her focus helplessly roamed between the various stressors of their return to Hogwarts. The need to study was an ever-present nag, as always, but it had quickly taken on a new edge. It almost compared to her experiences in time travel as she and Hermione could near always be found in the Common Room surrounded by parchment. How Hermione dealt with having to make sure no-one was out of bed at night would have been beyond Ariadne if she hadn’t overheard a whispered discussion between her and Ron as they’d sat beside her - assuring her that “all nighters prowling around in the dark” were his thing, he’d managed to get her to agree that over the new moon, he would take her rounds, and over the full, she his. On top of the essays, quizzes and tests that had swarmed them, there had been a constant reminder. Their OWL exams would influence their career prospects, and in the hectic insanity of the Triwizard Tournament and then the return of You-Know-Who, what sort of  _ career _ she wanted had taken a far back seat in her mind. And then on top of all of that, every time they neared Professor Umbridge had brought with it the stress of enduring both her bigotry - which had not abated, and Ariadne was unsure if her parents had had an opportunity to make some sort of complaint - and simultaneously her piercing eye as Ron feigned a minor flu, at the same time avoiding any and all attention.

She had also spent much of what should have been her meager relaxation time worrying. Not about classes, not about You-Know-Who - although he too featured - not about Umbridge. No. About Sunday. The tea date.

She didn’t want to disappoint Ginny. Under no circumstances. She’d already failed to get her anything for her birthday. But as the days rolled ever sluggishly by, she found herself tired. Just… tired. Exhausted. Aching and slow. She had work to do, she was already skipping Music that day, she was lucky Quidditch practice wasn’t on that week to conflict as Angelina was still organizing tryouts to select their new Keeper, and yet despite all of what she had on her plate, what was stressing her out was the one thing she should have been looking forward to.

“Ready to go, ‘Adne?” Ginny asked gently, coming about the sofa with a sweet smile. Hermione had already left for Music, and had dragged Ron and his flute along to it, and so Ariadne had largely been on her own in the mostly empty Common Room. Ginny, meanwhile, had put on a cute knitted vest over her t-shirt, and had a spring in her step as her skirt twirled a little in her motion.

“I.. I-I- yeah,” Ariadne spluttered, having forgotten the time as she hurriedly put away the book she’d been reading and stood, putting her wand back into her pocket. Was what she was wearing all right? Ginny had added to her outfit, should she go upstairs and put on something nicer than the jeans and button-up she was wearing? It might not have been summer anymore, but it was still somewhat warm, so she didn’t exactly want to layer up just yet. She also didn’t feel up to jogging up six flights of stairs just to worry over her outfit. On top of that, she really didn’t have the energy for  _ anything _ as she stood up sluggishly.

“I’ve got the coupons- hey, what’s up?” Ginny asked, frowning ever so slightly as she seemed to have caught Ariadne’s apprehensive look.

“It-it’s-s-s-st-st-st-s-ss-snn- it’s nothing,” Ariadne stammered awkwardly, shaking her hanging head before Ginny caught her chin gently and peered under her forlorn head.

“‘Adne…” Ginny whined. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not,” she implored, the tiniest tinge of anger in her voice that made Ariadne’s heart jump, and not in the good way. She didn’t want to disappoint Ginny. “Something’s wrong, you’ve been all bleh all week. What’s wrong?” Ariadne shrugged half-heartedly, quavering.

“I… I ‘unno,” Ariadne mumbled, shrugging as she tried to fold in on herself like a book. “I don’t know, I’m sorry,” she whimpered, tears forming in her eyes as her mind started attacking itself and her face contorted. She didn’t deserve to be with Ginny, she was a horrible girlfriend to her. She’d neglected a birthday gift, and now she was breaking their plans? Why would Ginny even want her around, let alone so close? She was horrible.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ginny grumbled, leaning into her and holding her shoulders. Ariadne wished she could look away in shame, but the infernal fact of her omnidirectional sense was not one that ceased. “We don’t have to go if you’re not up to it?” she suggested, grimacing concernedly. “Hey, it’s okay,” Ginny whispered. Ariadne disagreed as she shook her head, a groaning whimper in her throat. It was in no way okay! “We can do this another time, when you’re feeling better. In fact, you know what?” Ginny said, before pulling her back to the couch delicately, a bewildered expression filling Ariadne’s face. “We don’t even need to go to Hogsmeade to have a tea date. Sit your pretty butt down, we’ve got teabags right here. I’ll be back,” she announced, before dancing off to the side nook that was the kitchenette in the Gryffindor Common Room and clattering about with a pair of mugs. “ _ Incendio _ ,” she said, lighting a little fire under the kettle with a giddy little jump.

It wasn’t long before Ginny returned to her stewing, anxiously glum girlfriend with a pair of mugs that she carefully kept level before tilting down slowly to let Ariadne gratefully take hold of one of them. Ariadne smiled slightly as she sat, cross-legged on the sofa with the mug held above her lap and Ginny sat down beside her with her own.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” Ginny said, as Ariadne moved to take a sip. “Oh-that’s still hot-!” Ginny spluttered as the tea burnt into Ariadne’s mouth and she spluttered on the extremely bitter tea, nearly spilling much of what left of the void-like fluid onto her lap as she suddenly recoiled and gulped at the heat. “Um…  _ Inalgesco _ ,” Ginny murmured, putting her own mug down and flowing a gentle golden wave over Ariadne’s mug. Recognizing the mild chilling charm, Ariadne took another sip of the now lukewarm tea.

Ginny had most definitely not put  _ any _ sugar in it, Ariadne realized as Ginny repeated the same spell onto her own. Her tongue had been burnt by the tea’s original heat, but she could still tell it was  _ very _ bitter.

“It’s good,” Ariadne lied quietly.

“No it’s not, I can see you hate it,” Ginny chuckled. “What should I do next time?”

“Um…” Ariadne hummed, feeling odd making such a request. “More sugar?” she asked questioningly.

“Got a sweet tooth, huh? Mum would kill you,” Ginny laughed. “Although, dentists, suppose you of all people know how to take care of your teeth.” Ariadne smiled gently, as Ginny curled her free arm around her and leaned onto her shoulder. “I love you, you know that right? You don’t have to pretend to be happy for me, we’ll do something when you feel up to it, okay?” Ariadne grimaced, nodding, as Ginny took a sip of her tea. “Bleargh! Goddammit, I made mine cold. Bugger,” Ginny spat, recoiling from her tea in disgust, enciting a chuckle from Ariadne. “Wonder what it’d be like properly chilled instead of just, like, room temperature.  _ Glacius _ ,” she added curiously, jabbing her wand at it. Ginny frowned suddenly, holding her mug up and looking into it. Humming concernedly, she tapped it against the coffee table, where Ariadne heard a tiny crunch. Frowning even more, Ginny upturned her mug over the floor. Nothing happened. “Whoops.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galaxy brain: transfiguration is nuclear physics shorthand.  
> Took me a hot sec to write this one thanks to really not knowing how to do that last scene, and I had things to do for a couple days.


	159. Tryouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Angelina’s great annoyance, Quidditch training and tryouts are interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to New Zealand having been in level 1 at the time (although level 3 now, stay home folks), I went to my second Pride march! I also have zero concentration though, so this one took a second too. Curse movie montages giving me so little to work with!  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.

> _ Sirius _
> 
> _ (17/09/05) _
> 
> _ How are you and Remus doing? It’s starting to get a little chillier here, winter’s definitely on the way - Ron sounds like a typewriter right now whenever he moves. You’ll be glad to know we’re sticking together. Hermione, Ron and Ginny have been fussing over me like you wouldn’t believe, and we’ve all been fussing over Ron. I don’t think he minds.  _
> 
> _ Umbridge is a worry - she’s been putting up new rules like crazy. Ron’s been sitting at the back, trying not to be very visible, and it seems to be working. She’s not even mentioned him since our first class, which is a relief for him. Hermione and I have been doing the same, partially to keep him company and partially because Umbridge doesn’t misgender me as much if she just doesn’t speak to me. _
> 
> _ Ariadne _

“This is way too big for me,” Ginny complained as they strolled down the hill to the Quidditch stadium, Cleansweep in hand as she nearly tripped on the spare Quidditch robe she wore.

“It’s only one size bigger than Ariadne’s, isn’t it?” Ron asked, nudging his head at the tiny sixteen-year-old, also wearing spare robes as he leaned heavily on the school-owned broom he’d borrowed for the occasion, grumbling slightly with each evidently difficult step, his joints crunching painfully with the imminent full moon the next day.

“Yeah but she’s teeny,” Ginny replied reproachfully. “Any smaller and she’d be Flitwick’s size. Which,  _ to be fair _ , does mean she’s adorable,” she added suggestively, making Ariadne go pink. “And I’m  _ guessing _ her trousers might a size up, huh?” she added even more suggestively, as Ariadne leapt forward a few paces as Ginny’s hand suddenly made contact with her rear, a shock running through her at the brazen interaction.

“Wh-er-” Ariadne spluttered, her cheeks going crimson as Ginny giggled at her. “N-non-not in public!” she exclaimed, only slightly able to vocalize her concern for Ginny’s safety if their relationship were public knowledge even as she half-laughed in flustered embarrassment.

“Bah, there’s no-one around,” Ginny snickered. “So I get to be as much of a connoisseur of Madam Pomfrey’s work as I like when we’re alone?” she asked with a smirk and a wink. Ariadne could only let out an embarrassed burst of air as she somehow blushed even more, tensing with a lip-biting smile she couldn’t keep off her face. She wasn’t  _ complaining _ , she just didn’t want Ginny hurt for being with her.

Voldemort would already be trying to target her family. It was far too much to imagine him coming after the Weasleys too, fear contaminating what should have been playful silliness.

“Oh quit embarrassing her,” Ron grumbled, grimacing at a pain in his back as he walked along behind the pair. “It’s revolting.”

“Don’t pretend I haven’t caught you staring at ‘Mione’s arse,” Ginny snapped back gleefully, making Ron jump as Hermione half-span with a disturbed look, her magic jumping a little.

“I- I do  _ not _ ,” Ron replied tiredly, shaking his head.

“You’re doing it right now.”

“I’m looking at the ground!” Ron protested indignantly. “Don’t want to twist my bloody ankle or anything,” he added. Ariadne suspected he might have flown there if Umbridge hadn’t banned flight outside of Quidditch and practice.

“Are you going to be okay trying out for Keeper?” Hermione asked concernedly, frowning at him. “It’s really not a good time for you.”

“Funnily enough, Hermione, I know that,” he replied. “Agh. I’ll be all right,” he added, cracking his neck with a twist as they passed under the wooden gap into the stadium, where Ariadne could sense the familiar cores of Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Fred and George standing in a bunch, as well as numerous other Gryffindors nearby, standing around and chatting.

“Ariadne! There’s the White Eyed Wonder!” Angelina called, beaming over with a clipboard under one arm. “See you brought me some fresh meat?”

“Pf-Ha! Yes,” Ariadne replied, smiling back as Angelina linked arms with her triumphantly, their armguards clacking together.

“Good, good. ‘Adne says you’re a dab hand on a broom, Ginny,” Angelina said, shaking Ginny’s hand before making Ron switch hands with the broom he was using as a walking stick to shake her hand. “You all right, Ron?”

“Back’s playing up,” Ron replied with a wry smile. “Does this all the time, I’ll be fine in the air,” he added.

“All right, well, you’re trying out for… Keeper, yeah?” Angelina said, leafing through her clipboard. “Won’t be doing those for a bit, so you go sit down yeah, rest that back of yours. Ginny, you’re… okay, substitute tryouts, we’re doing those first so come on, over here. Ariadne, you probably just need some practice, Snitch is out there somewhere, go find it while I take these folks through some drills,” she told them, ushering Ginny over to the larger group as Ron patted Ariadne’s shoulder before limping off to sit on the bank with Hermione.

“You’re gonna do great, Ginny,” Ariadne said proudly as Ginny waved back and she mounted her Firebolt.

Oh how glorious it was to  _ finally _ take off on a Quidditch pitch again, Ariadne marvelled as she burst into the air at the tiniest command of the eager broomstick, the four twinned orange corkscrews of its magic spinning like a roaring engine as she came to a twisting halt near one of the towers. Below, the prospective recruits were cheering, as were Hermione and Ron as she was greeted by the familiar blue-pulsed shape of the Hogwarts Quidditch stadium. She had missed that long oval of towers, it was like a pair of old boots that still fit her perfectly as she took in a relieved breath of the chilly air before smiling as she went about her familiar role; looping about the stadium as she scanned about for the Snitch. She was, however, a little rusty after having let her Firebolt gather dust for the year before, the last time she’d played having been when she’d won the Cup for Gryffindor under Oliver, and so it took her a minute or two to get back into the groove of her curious patrol of the pitch, casting her mind about the arena as Angelina organized the latest “fresh meat” to greet her. Ariadne had to admit she was a little distracted as Angelina started taking the applicants through similar drills to those Oliver had had her do, admiring her girlfriend’s evident skill, so her ability to concentrate on more than one zone of her magic sense came in handy.

As she jolted, sensing the purple glimmer of the Snitch around a column near the goalposts, it was as if the Firebolt revved eagerly. It had been denied its purpose, but now? Ariadne shot forward, hair billowing behind her in the wind as she leaned forward, the Snitch detecting her charge and doing its best to flee. But as always, that gap was closing, as for perhaps the first time in a while, that rush of chilly air roaring in her ears filled Ariadne with an exhilarating joy that bubbled within her as she leaned into her momentum even more, a grin smearing itself across her face as her right arm extended forward, the feathery ball hurrying away. But they’d need to invest in a faster Snitch if it was to escape the Firebolt and Ariadne Granger, and so within seconds, she was curling to a euphoric halt, the Snitch in her hand as it surrendered to her grasp and she held it up happily.

“An-aa-a-ana-ange-ana-Angelina!” Ariadne called gladly, holding it up.

“All right, good, good! Oh- Nice! Let that go for a few minutes and then get back to it, yeah?” Angelina called back, turning from her trainees. Nodding, Ariadne squeezed the Snitch and chucked it into the air haphazardly, letting its wings take it again as it flitted away. Ariadne patiently sat back on her broom and waited, happy to float over near Ron and Hermione to watch.

“Having fun, Ariadne?” Ron called up before holding a hand to his stomach with a grimace.

“Yeah!” Ariadne called back with a happy pant to her breath, watching as Angelina had the two dozen students begin a second round of drills, this time to do with formation flying. It was a nice day, and that was all Ariadne really had to say about it. The sun was shining, and even if she could not see its light she could feel its warmth upon her face. It wasn’t too windy, it wasn’t too cold. She was on a broom, as she should have been for the year before. Ginny’s magic, resplendent and glorious was tethered to the Cleansweep Eight with an iron-wrought grip, her commands warbling through it in immediacy as its own magic arched and glowed to her direction as Ginny effortlessly followed Angelina’s formation.

Everything was right with the world. And yet, nothing was.

Voldemort was back, quietly amassing followers as she hung in the air, her friends playing Quidditch like nothing was wrong. They should have been working,  _ she _ should have been working to stop him. How could she be playing Quidditch when the secret world she dwelled in was on the verge of a new war, the likes of which had only been seen before her memories began, the likes of which had been her responsibility to stop? She had to stop Voldemort, didn’t she?

The Snitch flitted past as Ariadne sulked, and she jumped, not having paid attention to her surroundings. Shaking her head, Ariadne leapt into motion, Remus’ assurances ringing in her ears.  _ Focus on your classes, and your hobbies. Leave all this business to us, we will let you know if you need to be aware of anything _ . She  _ was _ doing what she was supposed to to help stop Voldemort, she assured herself even as she blasted after the Snitch once more. Staying out of the way so the more qualified adults could take care of it, and waiting on their word to do anything they needed of her.

“Woo! Go Ariadne!” Ron cried as she whooshed away, beside a happily clapping Hermione, Ariadne’s robe flapping out behind her as she jetted away. Annoyingly, the Snitch was on its way toward the substitute tryouts, possibly intending to lose her within them as she barreled toward them.

With a rush, Ariadne blasted over the formation, her sense set upon the purple snitch even as she swerved over Ginny’s head, the taller girl beaming at her in glee as she exploded past, having had to detour around the tryouts and subsequently having lost her gains on the Snitch. However, it didn’t take long for Ariadne to flex her old Seeker muscles and catch the Snitch again, before giving it another smug squeeze to reactivate it and chucking it into the air.

Resettling into that routine, however, did not settle her nervous bristling. Just because she was supposed to wait and let the Order handle the important things did not mean she wasn’t restless, did not mean she didn’t feel pointless, and her mind lingered on that each time she waited to let the Snitch retreat. Couldn’t she be put to work researching? Studying new spells that would help her? She had no doubt that between them all, she could learn plenty from the Order. She was, however, once again distracted by a change in her environment as a golden-blue and red core sidled up to her on a Cleansweep Eight, while Angelina gave new instructions.

“Okay, apologies to anyone who didn’t make it, but hey! Maybe next year, eh?” Angelina called to the evidently disappointed crowd of applicants. “Keepers! Get off your arses and get over here!” she yelled to the bank of lounging students, as Ginny reeled in beside Ariadne.

“Guess who’s on the team!” Ginny exclaimed, cutting off Ariadne’s vigil with an eager smile.

“Oh my god you-” Ariadne burst, as Ginny nodded wildly.

“Yeah! So if you get your sorry arse hurt, I can do all this for you,” Ginny replied deviously.

“Well done Ginny! That’s amazing!” Ariadne told her, happily distracted from her practice  _ and _ her doomful gloom.

“Thanks,” Ginny said, a little breathless. “Johnson says I’d make a good Chaser, but for now I’m generalizing. Told me to come practice with you before we start giving the Keepers trouble,” she told her, smiling at herself before giving Ariadne a pat on the arm. “So where’s this Snitch then?”

“Take a look around,” Ariadne replied smartly, as she gently began swooping around sideways to sweep about.

“Hmm,” Ginny hummed, eyeing her as she followed. “How d’you think Ron’ll do?” she asked, making pleasant conversation as she looked around. “He seems a little out of it.”

“He’s fine,” Ariadne said, peering at him behind her as he followed Angelina’s directions diligently. “Besides, he only has to catch a ball, and I’d be surprised if he was  _ bad _ at that,” she added, grinning both mischievously and at the fact that she was handily guiding Ginny  _ away _ from the Snitch in their little competition. Ginny, meanwhile, snorted.

“Pfff. Who knows, maybe he won’t let us have it back,” she snickered, before frowning. “Kinda cheating, if he’s on the team, isn’t it?”

“No more than having me on the team, I can see in every direction,” Ariadne replied. “Don’t just follow the other Seeker. I’ve-I’ve-I’ve-I’ve been leading you away from-fr-from-from it for the last five minutes,” she added, sticking her tongue out for a brief second as Ginny gaped at her before she rocketed backwards and flipped over herself to rocket toward the unsuspecting Snitch, leaving Ginny floundering as she tried to figure out where the Snitch  _ was _ as she hesitantly moved to follow before breaking into a charge herself upon the Cleansweep as she must have pinpointed the glimmering ball Ariadne was hot on the heels of. Ariadne could have pushed the eager Firebolt harder if she’d really wanted to, but she thought it worth giving Ginny at least  _ some _ chance to catch up with her as she let the cackling girl on the Cleansweep start to gain on her a little, making sure she was still catching up the Snitch. Regardless, however, Ginny’s valiant effort proved wasted as once again, Ariadne’s fingers slipped about the winged ball and captured it.

“You bloody minx!” Ginny exclaimed as she caught up, swinging around and behind Ariadne, who chuckled evilly. “Why did you have to be the smartest bitch I know?” Ariadne, however, frowned, as far below, the red and green core of Dolores Umbridge - which, upon learning its colours, Ginny had once described as “festive” - had stepped onto the pitch, as the woman regarded the grass beneath her heeled shoes with some disdain and beckoned Angelina over. Frowning, Angelina landed softly and approached the short woman with a concerned expression.

“Oh no, what’s this?” Ginny murmured as Umbridge handed Angelina a sheet of parchment snappily and shuffled out of the stadium again, not stopping to explain nor discuss whatever it was as Angelina unfolded it slowly.

“Whatever it is, it’s not good,” Ariadne replied, descending slowly as Angelina scowled at Umbridge’s back, fury on what of her expression Ariadne could sense. That impression only grew as as soon as the Professor had departed, the seventh-year Captain kicked the grass in rage and planted the front of her broomstick into the ground. “What is it, Angelina?”

“Hhh… All right, let’s pack up,” Angelina snarled with a ragged sigh. “Everyone say hello to Educational Decree number thirty-two,” she announced angrily, holding up the parchment. “ _ The Hogwarts Quidditch tournament and all associated activities are cancelled until further notice _ ,” she told them before furiously folding it up and stuffing it in her pocket.

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” Ginny yelled, gaping at Angelina.

“My sentiments exactly,” Angelina retorted as she kicked the gear box with a TWHACK! “All right, give me that,” she grumbled to a forlorn sixth year boy who’d also evidently qualified as a substitute alongside Ginny, who tossed her the Quaffle. “All right, fan out everyone, gotta put the Snitch back in here.”

“Got it here,” Ariadne told her glumly, holding up the stationary ball.

“Oh, nice,” Angelina mumbled, taking it from her and sticking it in its little slot inside the box, before slamming the box shut. “Mind giving me a hand with this, Granger?” she asked, beckoning Ariadne over to take the other end of it. Ariadne nodded, stepping over diligently. “All right. Go entertain yourselves, everyone, party’s over,” she yelled, swooping her arm around to the entrance before pulling the case into the air with Ariadne’s help.

“Has she bloody cancelled Quidditch?! Again?!” Ron exclaimed, hurrying painfully over.

“Yeah! Bloody bitch!” Angelina exclaimed. “The one  _ fucking _ year I get to be Captain and she cancels it!” Ariadne was far from  _ forced  _ to agree with her. Quidditch had been perhaps the only thing she’d looked forward to at Hogwarts that year, and now it had been taken from her.

“Oh yeah, ‘cos you’re a seventh year, aren’t you?” he said, leaning on his broom.

“Yeah! I’m not gonna be here next year. Hopefully Um-bitch isn’t, so you guys can play for a  _ bit _ . Two years in a row without Quidditch, for heaven’s sake,” she spat, making Ginny snort at the makeshift epithet of Umbridge’s name as Hermione joined them alongside Ron.

“That’s… irritating,” Hermione said pensively. “The Quidditch tournament is… a way to…”

“Hermione Granger lost for words?” Angelina laughed. “We really are fucked.”

“No, I-” Hermione spluttered, laughing involuntarily. “It’s… people enjoy it. It’s good for morale, it won’t help matters to cancel it,” she elaborated, Ariadne catching her brief glance at her.

“D’you suppose you’ll still be allowed to use the Prefects’ bathroom?” Ron asked curiously, frowning. “I mean, you’re still Captain, right?”

“What’s the bloody point if we can’t play?” Angelina grumbled. “It’s just a big fancy tub with too many bubbles anyway.”

“Yeah, we don’t use it either. Seriously, who needs that many taps?” Ron told her, stepping away a bit. “I’ve gotta go talk to McGonagall about, er, some stuff,” he told them, umming about his broomstick before Hermione extended a hand.

“I’ll put it back for you,” Hermione offered. Ron nodded and handed it to her. “I’m guessing this is about…” she said, giving him a piercing look before he nodded again. “God’s sake Ronald, I’d have thought you of all people would know better than to leave things to the last minute.” Huffing with a tiny smile, Ron hobbled off toward the castle, as Hermione shook her head at him. “See you, Ron,” she called.

“Hmm?” Ron turned back, face blank enough that he’d only partially comprehended what she’d said. “Um, see ya ‘Mione,” he said, smiling as he awkwardly waved before he returned to his walk back to the castle, seeming to have twisted his hip as he’d turned around as he pressed a hand to it. Hermione, meanwhile, spent the walk to the Quidditch sheds tossing Ron’s spare broom between her hands idly.

“Ugh. Thanks Ariadne,” Angelina groaned as the pair of them put down the crate. “Merlin I hope  _ until further notice _ means some time this term, it’ll be a shame to have to dust this place out  _ again _ ,” she added as Ariadne stretched the arm it had been hanging from. “All right, see you guys, I’ll make sure everyone puts their brooms back,” said, waving them off. With that, Ariadne tiredly trailed behind Ginny as they made their way back to the castle. If she couldn’t play Quidditch - a fact Ginny was vocally put out by, as she complained of how they were neither allowed to fly _ nor _ use magic particularly frequently - Ariadne supposed she should probably use the time to take care of the mountain of homework that had been glaring at her over the week and she hadn’t had the energy to complete.

Returning, it seemed Hermione had had the same idea as she dug out her Transfiguration textbooks and began poring over them and the parchment she had been writing upon, with significantly more concentration and gusto than Ariadne did. Ariadne was, however, a little confused by Hermione asking her for help verifying answers frequently. Hermione knew the answers, surely. At least they were working on the same things, and so it didn’t disturb her own work as she toiled away exhaustedly at the Transfiguration assignments.

\--

> _ Dearest Ariadne _
> 
> _ So sorry we’ve taken a bit to get back to you. We hope your first couple of weeks back have been a bit better? _
> 
> _ We’ve been trying to make a complaint about Professor Umbridge misgendering you, but Hogwarts isn’t exactly the most modern school to try and contact. We’ve been collaborating with Molly and Arthur - apparently that detention you mentioned included a quill that writes in your own blood?! They really aren’t happy about that - but they’re stressing that we can’t draw too much attention to Ron or his friends, so we have to be careful. Not only that, but complaints have to go through the Governors. AKA, Lucius Malfoy and Co. _
> 
> _ We’re doing our best, but unfortunately two Muggles and a pair of parents who can’t push too hard don’t have much power in this situation. _
> 
> _ All our love, _
> 
> _ Mum and Dad _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware #32 is not a canonical decree in either film or book - the films are inconsistent and don’t make sense, so I chose 32 as it makes the most sense and doesn’t contradict anything. The movie doesn’t have Quidditch, and thanks to a montage, doesn’t actually explain that.


	160. Professor Trelawney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Umbridge’s actions become more and more serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curse montages! Back to somewhat useful content. I may or may not have procrastinated writing this by doing Incorrect Quotes of KG in the discord and deciding that in KG, wizarding streets in New Zealand are accessed via dairies rather than a pub (which is not a goddamn farm you uncultured non-NZers, it’s a quaint little family-run convenience store with sweets, ice cream and staples).  
> Recurring TW: This fic will be dealing with narratives of PTSD manifesting in depression and paranoia.  
> Specific TW: Transphobia - misgendering.

In the month since Professor Umbridge’s really rather rude interjection upon the Quidditch pitch, her reign of authoritarianism over Hogwarts had been... trying at best. More and more rules in house-like cases had been piled atop pegs in the entrance hall, to the point it looked as if the wall were covered in windows for Ariadne, and she felt as if it were only a matter of time before Umbridge tried to weaponize Educational Decree #45, which mandated proper dress and decorum at all times, against her. So far, Umbridge had been content to allow her to wear the same uniform as her dormmates. At the very least, she hadn’t mentioned it, and Ariadne kept her distance, hoping that would remain the case so long as she did exactly what Ron was doing - avoiding the High Inquisitor’s attention.

And so, Ariadne had sullenly sat at the back of the class, making sure she not ask or be called upon to answer questions. Not that there were many questions to answer, with how irritatingly dull Umbridge’s lessons were. Even Gilderoy Lockhart had proven a better Defence teacher, Ariadne thought. In fact, Umbridge’s lesson on pixies had been significantly less informative than her predecessor’s, to the point of being downright incorrect. Worst of all, perhaps, was her insistence on a specific tactic. Flight. Not flight as in to mount a broom, but flight as in to flee. From everything. Even a singular pixie. Indeed, Ariadne felt, this surely rendered her lessons quite the opposite of a class on defence, but needled by the need to remain unremarkable, she grumblingly turned in every incredibly boring essay. The only skill she was learning was patience, and perhaps the technique of casting spells with her wand still in her sleeve, pressed against her arm as she quietly kept her books legible.

Gladly, Defence Against the Dark Arts was not their only class, and while the teachers had been forbidden from imparting knowledge not related to their own subjects - fortunately, Music had not been cancelled and so Ron’s passable skill playing simple ditties on the flute was growing, even if Ariadne frequently neglected to attend - Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology and History of Magic greeted her like a warm blanket of familiarity. Potions and the lonely Care of Magical Creatures, however, failed to do so - Snape was his own warning even as Ariadne excelled despite his attitude, but Ariadne wasn’t sure about Professor Grubbly-Plank. The smokey-smelling old woman was clearly competent, perhaps even more so than Hagrid, and even friendly to Ariadne - particularly after the unicorns they’d worked with had adored her, now that she wasn’t working with a werewolf in the class - but she was not herself Professor Hagrid. After a while, Ariadne simply felt neutrally about Hagrid’s replacement, not particularly liking her but certainly not disliking her. She’d take Grubbly-Plank over Snape or Umbridge any day, by a country mile.

“You’d think she’d have better things to do than swan into other teachers’ lessons, y’know?” Ron grumbled, grimacing at his hip as he walked alongside Ariadne and Hermione, having been collected from his Divination lesson quickly after the ringing of the bell in the Grangers’ Arithmancy lesson. “I mean, I’m not Trelawney’s biggest fan, but she can’t teach if that fluffy pink toad’s interrupting her,” he grumbled. “Waste of bloody time.”

“Divination’s already a waste of time,” Hermione laughed, to a frown from Ariadne.

“It’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Ron replied reproachfully. “Just because you and Ariadne don’t get along with her. Oh, hey Ginny,” he jumped, as Ginny jogged over from the direction of the Transfiguration classroom, as Hermione gave Ron a tiny scowl.

“Hey guys! Hey ‘Adne,” Ginny replied, smiling widely as she gently took Ariadne’s hand.

“Hey Gin,” Ariadne said, returning the smile with a warmth in her chest. Ginny, having no such requirement to avoid Umbridge’s wrath, had taken a very different approach to the rule on proper dress and decorum than Ariadne’s prim adherence to the girls’ uniform. Ginny wore her tie loose, her top button undone, and a pair of trousers rather than the usual skirt, which, albeit not unusual itself as trousers were an optional element of the girls’ uniform, were a bit tatty and old, and were a little too short in the leg. While she wore her cloak for its necessary warmth, she did not wear her cardigan.

Ariadne had to admit, it suited her.

“What’s this about Divination?” Ginny asked cheerfully, leaning to look to Ron curiously.

“Oh, Umbridge  _ evaluated _ her like what she did with Snape, and like Flitwick in Music,” Ron replied, clearing his throat.

“Flitwick in Music?” Ariadne asked, frowning. She must have missed that.

“Yeah, she popped in the other week while you were in the Common Room. Bloody measured the bloke!” Ron explained with a tinge of anger in his voice. “How bloody rude is that?! But yeah, she turned up in Divination as well, just at the start. Swans in like she owns the place and starts nagging Trelawney,” he told them, his face screwed up a little in disgust. “She can’t teach with someone all blabbing at her, interrupting like that, she’s like ‘Adne, all anxious like. No offense,” he said, before hurriedly apologizing. Ariadne shrugged before he continued. “ _ Oh, how long you been here,  _ blahdy blah,  _ what’re you teaching _ . Then she asked for a bloody prophecy!”

“She what?” Hermione laughed. “I suppose she didn’t give her one.”

“Well of course she didn’t, that’s not how it works,” Ron grumbled. “ _ Just one teensy little prophecy _ , no you hag, it’s not a thing she can just  _ do _ ,” he said, his imitation of Umbridge only deteriorating as he spluttered a little. “She said something about something dark, is all.”  _ Speak of the devil _ , Ariadne thought, as she sensed Umbridge snapping down the corridor, almost in a rush to her curious frowning. What was she in such a hurry for?

“You sound like you’re enjoying Divination,” Hermione said, almost in amusement.

“Well it can’t be that bad if it got  _ great change _ right,” Ron replied simply. “Been starting to actually see stuff in the crystal-” Ron was cut off as an explosion of movement erupted beside him. The explosion of movement, in fact, had been Ariadne.

As just as Umbridge had approached, a beam of magic had flashed toward Ariadne and Ginny, and, with her heart suddenly leaping into her throat, her brain exploding into panic, Ariadne had fallen into slow motion. Had she been thinking straight, she might have recognized the magic as the same warbling blue of the spell Umbridge had been using to separate couples left right and centre at Hogwarts, but she wasn’t, and so she didn’t.

Instead of letting the harmless spell detach their hands, Ariadne had let go of her own accord, her wand in her hand, flicked out of her sleeve faster than one could blink.

“ _Pro-ega!_ ” she squeaked. _PROTEGO!_ Detonated through Ariadne’s mind as she threw her wand up, spinning to face her assailant, a shock of adrenaline running through her and sending nauseous spikes through her as the shimmering green shield shot up before her and a dull thud marked the spell being deflected in some direction, Ariadne wasn’t sure where as she stood, shaking like a leaf and hunched over slightly, her wand in front of her face as the shield disappeared and the corridor went silent, everyone staring at the scene as Umbridge’s face went dark.

“No magic in the corridors, Mister Granger,” Umbridge spat, almost with a chuckle. “Thirty points from Gryffindor,” she added smugly, before flicking her wand at Ginny and sending a similar beam at her undone button and tie. “Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley.” With Ginny grimacing at the sudden tightening of her tie, Umbridge strode past with a smug flick of her eyebrows and a squeaky  _ hmhm! _ before she disappeared off down the hallway, leaving Ariadne catching her breath and shuddering a little as Hermione nudged Ron, who was glaring hatefully down at Umbridge with his lips curling, to stop the tiny growl emanating from him.

“Gh- sorry, couldn’t help it” Ron muttered, wincing at himself before leaning over to Ariadne. “You okay?”

“I’m-I’m-I’m-I’m good,” Ariadne mumbled as Ginny, after poking her tongue out at Umbridge’s back disdainfully, rubbed her back briefly in concern. Oddly, the corridor had not dwelt on her transgression, as the surrounding students instead went about the same weirdly energetic hubbub they had started with, and in fact were even more chaotic than they’d started. “Wh-what’s-what-what are they-what are they-” she stammered.

“I dunno,” Ron breathed, looking about with a frown as he began following the movement of the crowd, Hermione followed by Ginny and Ariadne in tow.

“Zhou, Cedric!” Ginny called as Zhou’s orange and purple core flitted into their vicinity, her form quickly illuminated by Ariadne’s spell as she and Cedric turned to see them. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Professor Trelawney,” Zhou replied quickly, not stopping even as Ron trailed painfully.

“What about her?” the boy asked quizzically.

“She’s been sacked,” Cedric replied in disbelief. “We… we just found out in the Hall, Umbridge sacked her,” he explained, shaking his head in horror as Ron gaped at him and Ariadne’s blood ran cold. Umbridge had started to sack teachers?!

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. “We just finished having a class with her!” he added as they followed the crowd out to the courtyard, where as Ariadne tried to let the limping Ron keep up with them as they vied for view, they were greeted by a truly miserable sight. In the centre of the courtyard stood Trelawney, surrounded by a number of cases as she sadly held a knitted bag to her stomach, chin wobbling as she fell back at the sight of Mister Filch bringing one final suitcase out. Trelawney whimpered, woodenly sitting down on one in shock as her magic leapt about in fear, as the large castle door’s hatch closed behind Dolores Umbridge, who seemed positively unperturbed by the event nor the attention as she walked out to meet Trelawney, who stood hesitantly among the despairing silence of the students about the courtyard.

The sound of Umbridge’s heels was interrupted by the sound of Trelawney’s knees hitting the case Filch had left as she hesitantly stood with a gasp and felt her way around it, Ariadne wincing at the familiar accident. While she had not exactly seen eye to eye with the Divination Professor, they did share a distinct lack of effective eyesight, and Sybil Trelawney was so short sighted even with her apparently absurdly strong glasses that Ariadne had once offered to teach her braille in solidarity.

“Six… Sixteen years I’ve lived and taught here!” Trelawney pleaded, her voice wavering in tandem with her core. “Hogwarts is my  _ home _ ! You can’t do this!” she cried, holding her bag in front of her almost defensively as she curled in on herself fearfully, and as Umbridge stood before her, uncaring and smug.

“Actually, I  _ can _ ,” Umbridge replied, with a smile on her face as she held up what Ariadne presumed to be an Educational Decree, and as Professor McGonagall, who’d just arrived, hurriedly pushed her way through them and swept out to embrace Trelawney, strangled syllables escaping the sobbing woman who fell into McGonagall’s arms as the head of Gryffindor House gave Umbridge perhaps the most scathing, enraged glare Ariadne had ever sensed on her face. “Something you’d like to say, dear?” Umbridge asked sweetly.

“Oh  _ there are several things I would like to say! _ ” McGonagall snarled in murderous anger, grief entering her own voice even atop her fury before she continued to attempt to comfort the bawling woman Umbridge was so callously ejecting.

CA-THUNK - CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The whole crowd, including Umbridge, McGonagall and Trelawney looked up and around in awe as the gigantic double doors of the castle flashed yellow and thunked inward, rumbling ominously as between them, just in the doorway as they swung open, stood Professor Dumbledore, regarding the scene with a stony, ancient disdain.

“Oh my-...” Hermione murmured, gaping at the Headmaster, who swiftly strode through the student body with an immediate purpose. “I didn’t think he was even in the castle, he hasn’t come to a Prefect meeting since our third day, nobody’s seen him.” Hermione whispered to Ariadne and Ginny, frowning incredulously as Ron too watched in surprise.

“Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore called resolutely. “Might I ask you to escort Sybil back inside?” he said, coming to a strolling halt before Umbridge, regarding his foe with almost no emotion showing on his face. Trelawney gasped, as McGonagall helped her along to pass Umbridge, her whimpers becoming surprised relief as she thankfully linked a hand into Dumbledore’s, eagerly thanking him as Dumbledore stared at the High Inquisitor.

“Dumbledore,” Umbridge spat as McGonagall led Trelawney back inside. “May I  _ remind _ you that under the terms of Educational Decree number 23, as enacted by the Minister, I-” she began haughtily.

“You have the right to dismiss my teachers,” Dumbledore snapped, cutting her off. “You do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the grounds,” he barked. “That power remains with the Headmaster,” he declared. Ariadne’s heart sank even as she was relieved to know Trelawney wouldn’t be thrown to the proverbial wolves, as a dark smile pierced Umbridge’s face.

“For now,” Umbridge said pointedly, smiling evilly at him. Dumbledore shifted slightly on his feet, before turning and beginning back to the castle proper, clearly unwilling to let Umbridge use the crowd of assembled students against him in a publicity stunt.

“Don’t you all have studying to do?” Dumbledore barked out disgruntledly across the silent courtyard, sweeping toward the door as the studentry rose up again in discussion.

“Fuck…” Ginny breathed as the four of them absently stepped back. “That’s not gonna go well,” she murmured, eliciting a shaking head from Ariadne and a raised eyebrow from Ron.

\--

“That foul, evil gargoyle!” Hermione exclaimed angrily as Ron groaned, sitting down on the couch by the fireplace in the empty Common Room uncomfortably after dinner, following a forlorn announcement on the part of Professor McGonagall at the meal that Professor Trelawney would not be teaching Divination anymore. “We’re not learning how to defend ourselves, how to pass our OWLs, or  _ anything _ ! And now she’s sacking teachers, she’s taking over the entire school!” she added, tapping her heels angrily as the radio nearby flickered something about security in Minister Fudge’s voice as he denied a number of disappearances, as he had been doing for weeks, as Ginny meanwhile lounged in the nook beside the fireplace itself.

“Yeah! It’s a good thing we studied ahead last year, or we’d  _ never _ pass our exams!” Ginny exclaimed. Ron nodded darkly as Ariadne flicked her eyebrows irritably. They shouldn’t have  _ had _ to study ahead the year before. Her attention was, however, immediately interrupted by a sudden flash of orange magic in the fireplace, accompanied by a gentle rush of flame.

“Ariadne!” Sirius’ voice called urgently as Ariadne jumped from her seat and Ginny stared into the fire incredulously.

“Sirius!” Ariadne replied, jogging to the fireplace as Hermione looked about in confusion before noticing the altered Floo communication. “What are you-what are you doing?!” she asked incredulously.

“Answering your letter,” Sirius replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You said you were worried about Umbridge. What’s she doing? Training you to kill half-breeds?” he asked concernedly.

“How’re you doing that?” Ginny asked, tilting her head at what had to be the image of his head in the flame.

“Little trick I picked up,” Sirius replied. Ariadne swore she could hear Queen music playing on Sirius’ end.

“She’s not  _ training _ us at all, we’re not even allowed to use magic most of the time,” Ron grumbled from a half lying down position on the couch, as Ginny scoffed angrily from the nook.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Sirius sighed. “The latest intelligence is that Fudge doesn’t want you trained in combat, not even against ‘half-breeds.’”

“Combat?” Ron scoffed, coughing. “What, does he think we’re forming some sort of wizard army?” he barked, a chuckle in his breath.

“What, like Dumbledore’s army or something?” Ginny added with an incredulous look.

“Well, that’s exactly what he thinks,” Sirius replied, making Hermione snort. “That Dumbledore is assembling his own forces to take on the Ministry,” he added grandiosely.

“Pfff. Look at Albus Dumbledore with his army of tweens,” Ginny declared sarcastically, laughing.

“Hmph. He’s becoming more paranoid by the minute,” Sirius told them. “You should know, things aren’t going at all well with the Order,” he reported, his voice becoming solemn. “Fudge is blocking the truth at every turn, and these…  _ disappearances _ he’s covering up are just how it started before. Voldemort is on the move.”

“Is-is there- is there-is there anything we can do, can we help?” Ariadne asked eagerly.

“You’re to be informed, not put on the field,” Sirius replied pointedly. “If we need that sense of yours, we’ll let you know, but for now at least, you’re on your own.” Ron jumped, frowning into the fire as Sirius paused. “Keep a bead on Snape for me would you? I don’t trust him,” he added. “Anyway, I need to go, Remus is calling me for dinner and you know how werewolves can get when dinner’s late,” he told them boyishly, getting a chuckle out of Ron. “Especially this close to the full moon. Well, er, have a good evening you lot,” he said, before they all jumped at a crash of thunder outside. “Oh, weather no good up there either? Remie will probably want to stay inside this week too, I’m at his right now. I- I’m bloody coming, you dog!” he called loudly.

“You’re the dog, not me!” Ariadne heard Remus yell back. 

“Ha! All right, see you all,” he told them, before the magical glow flitted out and Hermione leaned back, standing up and looking out the window. Ariadne frowned as she followed her pensive sister.

“He’s out there,” Hermione said simply, her face tense even from how poor an angle Ariadne had. “If he’s out there,  _ killing people _ , then we’ve got to be able to defend ourselves,” she declared, as Ariadne nodded glumly. “And if Umbridge refuses to teach us how, we need someone who will.”

“Maybe we should owl Remus and Mad-Eye, have them do some kinda extra-curricular thingy,” Ginny said, standing up out of the nook as Hermione turned back to them all, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I was thinking something slightly more direct,” Hermione replied, looking straight at Ariadne, who reeled back a bit as Ron and Ginny both looked to her as well.

“What?” Ariadne asked apprehensively, guessing just by implication that whatever Hermione had in mind would involve her in some way.

“Ginny’s right. It’s a good thing we all studied ahead last year.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, Ariadne by the way has not even NOTICED that Dumbledore is avoiding her lmao


End file.
